The same light shone a third time in the young man’s eyes, but died ineffectually away as before.
“You distrust me,” said Aramis.
“And why say you so, monsieur?”
“Oh, for a very simple reason; if you know what you ought to know, you ought to mistrust everybody.”
“Then do not be astonished that I am mistrustful, since you suspect me of knowing what I do not know.”
Aramis was struck with admiration at this energetic resistance. “Oh, monseigneur! you drive me to despair,” said he, striking the armchair with his fist.
“And, on my part, I do not comprehend you, monsieur.”
“Well, then, try to understand me.” The prisoner looked fixedly at Aramis.
“Sometimes it seems to me,” said the latter, “that I have before me the man whom I seek, and then—”
“And then your man disappears,—is it not so?” said the prisoner, smiling. “So much the better.”