“Do you know, monsieur, of whom you remind me this evening?”
“No! faith,” said Aramis, taking up his glass; “but I hope I remind you of a capital guest.”
“You remind me of two, monsieur. Francois, shut the window; the wind may annoy his greatness.”
“And let him go,” added Aramis. “The supper is completely served, and we shall eat it very well without waiters. I like exceedingly to be tete-a-tete when I am with a friend.” Baisemeaux bowed respectfully.
“I like exceedingly,” continued Aramis, “to help myself.”
“Retire, Francois,” cried Baisemeaux. “I was saying that your greatness puts me in mind of two persons; one very illustrious, the late cardinal, the great Cardinal de la Rochelle, who wore boots like you.”
“Indeed,” said Aramis; “and the other?”
“The other was a certain musketeer, very handsome, very brave, very adventurous, very fortunate, who, from being abbe, turned musketeer, and from musketeer turned abbe.” Aramis condescended to smile. “From abbe,” continued Baisemeaux, encouraged by Aramis’s smile—“from abbe, bishop—and from bishop—”
“Ah! stay there, I beg,” exclaimed Aramis.
“I have just said, monsieur, that you gave me the idea of a cardinal.”