The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [136]
D’Artagnan, regardless of this eloquent discourse and in no mood to engage in polemic discussion with his friend’s valet, simply moved him aside with one hand and with the other turned the handle of the door to Room Number Five.
He found Aramis clad in a black gown, his head surmounted by a sort of round, flat, black headdress not unlike a skull cap; the musketeer was seated at an oblong table covered with scrolls of paper and huge volumes in folio. At his right sat the Superior of the Jesuits; at his left the Curé of Montdidier. The curtains, half-drawn, permitted only the most discreet subdued daylight to enter the room, a penumbral glow calculated to encourage the most beatific contemplations. Any worldly object that might generally strike the eye on entering a young man’s room—particularly when that young man is a musketeer—had disappeared as if by enchantment. Further, no doubt in fear lest the sight of his swords, pistols, plumed hat, embroideries and laces of all sorts might recall Aramis back to the follies of this world, Bazin had carefully put them away. Nothing of the normal equipment of a young man of fashion was visible; in the stead and place of such objects, D’Artagnan thought he perceived a whip for self-flagellation hanging from a nail on the wall.
Hearing the door open, Aramis looked up and recognized his friend. But to D’Artagnan’s immense surprise his appearance seemed to make but a slight impression on an Aramis lost in supraterrestrial speculation.
“Good day to you, my dear D’Artagnan,” Aramis said with utter calm, “believe me, I am happy to see you.”
“And I too,” D’Artagnan assured him, “although I am not yet quite certain that this is Aramis.”
“And why not, my dear friend?”
“I feared I had mistaken your room and walked in upon some churchman. Then when I saw these two Fathers by your side I suddenly thought you were dangerously ill.”
The two men in black, guessing at once what D’Artagnan meant, looked almost threateningly at him but this did not feaze him.
“Perhaps I am disturbing you, my dear Aramis,” D’Artagnan suggested. “Unless my eyes mistake me, you were busy making confession to these gentlemen—?”
Aramis blushed ever so slightly and:
“You are not disturbing me,” he assured D’Artagnan. “On the contrary, my dear friend, I vow I am delighted to note that you have come back from your travels safe and sound.” (D’Artagnan congratulated himself silently on the fact that Aramis seemed to have returned to earth; indeed he was coming around at last and high time, too!) “This gentleman is a friend of mine,” Aramis explained unctuously to the two clerics. “He has just escaped considerable danger.”
“Praise God!” and “God be praised, Monsieur!” the ecclesiastics intoned, bowing in unison.
“I did not fail to praise Him, Your Reverences,” D’Artagnan countered, returning their salutation.
“Your arrival is most timely, my dear D’Artagnan,” Aramis continued smoothly. “By taking part in our discussion you can perhaps shed some light of your own upon the subject we were discussing. Monsieur le Principal, Superior of the Jesuits at Amiens, and Monsieur le Curé of Montdidier and I are arguing about certain theological problems which have long fascinated us. I am sure I would welcome any contribution you might care to make to our discussion.”
“The opinion of a man of the sword can carry no weight,” D’Artagnan protested, somewhat uneasy at the turn the conversation was taking. “Surely the learning of these gentlemen can settle all your doubts?”
Again the two men in black bowed in unison.
“Not at all, my dear D’Artagnan, I know your opinion will be much appreciated,” Aramis pursued in honeyed tones. “Here is the point: Monsieur le Principal believes that my thesis ought to be very dogmatic and didactic.”
“Your thesis? You are presenting a thesis?”
“Of course he