“But,” continued Aramis, “Bazin is a well trained servant, and seeing that I was not alone he discreetly retired. Sit down, my dear friend, and let us talk.” And Aramis pushed forward a large easy-chair, in which D’Artagnan stretched himself out.
“In the first place, you will sup with me, will you not?” asked Aramis.
“Yes, if you really wish it,” said D’Artagnan, “and even with great pleasure, I confess; the journey has given me a devil of an appetite.”
“Ah, my poor friend!” said Aramis, “you will find meagre fare; you were not expected.”
“Am I then threatened with the omelet of Crevecoeur?”
“Oh, let us hope,” said Aramis, “that with the help of God and of Bazin we shall find something better than that in the larder of the worthy Jesuit fathers. Bazin, my friend, come here.”
The door opened and Bazin entered; on perceiving the musketeer he uttered an exclamation that was almost a cry of despair.
“My dear Bazin,” said D’Artagnan, “I am delighted to see with what wonderful composure you can tell a lie even in church!”
“Sir,” replied Bazin, “I have been taught by the good Jesuit fathers that it is permitted to tell a falsehood when it is told in a good cause.”
“So far well,” said Aramis; “we are dying of hunger. Serve us up the best supper you can, and especially give us some good wine.”