“Believe me, my dear governor,” said Aramis, drawing closer to Baisemeaux, “a young king is well worth an old cardinal. Youth has its suspicions, its fits of anger, its prejudices, as old age has its hatreds, its precautions, and its fears. Have you paid your three years’ profits to Louviere and Tremblay?”
“Most certainly I have.”
“So that you have nothing more to give them than the fifty thousand francs I have brought with me?”
“Nothing.”
“Have you not saved anything, then?”
“My lord, in giving the fifty thousand francs of my own to these gentlemen, I assure you that I give them everything I gain. I told M. d’Artagnan so yesterday evening.”
“Ah!” said Aramis, whose eyes sparkled for a moment, but became immediately afterwards as unmoved as before; “so you have seen my old friend D’Artagnan; how was he?”
“Wonderfully well.”
“And what did you say to him, M. de Baisemeaux?”
“I told him,” continued the governor, not perceiving his own thoughtlessness, “I told him that I fed my prisoners too well.”