The Three Musketeers (Translated by Richard Pevear) - Alexandre Dumas [138]
The two men in black, who understood his intentions, shot d’Artagnan an almost threatening look; but d’Artagnan was not troubled by it.
“Perhaps I’m disturbing you, my dear Aramis,” d’Artagnan went on, “for what I see leads me to believe that you are confessing to these gentlemen.”
Aramis blushed imperceptibly.
“You, disturbing me? Oh, quite the contrary, dear friend, I swear to you! And as proof of what I say, allow me to rejoice at seeing you safe and sound.”
“Ah, he’s finally coming around,” thought d’Artagnan, “and a lucky thing, too!”
“For Monsieur, who is my friend, has just escaped from grave danger,” Aramis went on unctuously, indicating d’Artagnan to the two ecclesiastics.
“Praise God, Monsieur,” they said, bowing in unison.
“I already have, my reverend sirs,” the young man replied, returning their bow.
“You’ve come at a good moment, dear d’Artagnan,” said Aramis, “and in taking part in the discussion, you will cast your own light on it. The superior of Amiens, the curate of Montdidier, and I are arguing over certain theological questions, the interest of which has long since captivated us. I would be charmed to have your opinion.”
“The opinion of a man of the sword carries no weight,” replied d’Artagnan, who was beginning to worry about the turn things were taking, “and you can content yourself, believe me, with the knowledge of these gentlemen.”
The two men in black bowed again.
“On the contrary,” Aramis picked up, “your opinion will be precious to us. Here’s the question: the superior believes that my thesis must above all be dogmatic and didactic.”
“Your thesis? So you’re doing a thesis?”
“Of course,” replied the Jesuit. “For the examination preceding ordination, a thesis is strictly required.”
“Ordination?” cried d’Artagnan, who could not believe what the hostess and Bazin had both told him. “Ordination?”
And his stupefied eyes wandered over the three personages he had before him.
“Now,” Aramis went on, taking the same graceful pose in his armchair as if he was in a salon, and complacently examining his hand, white and dimpled as a woman’s, which he held up so that the blood would drain from it, “now, as you have heard, d’Artagnan, the superior would like my thesis to be dogmatic, while I, for my part, would like it to be idealist. That is why the superior is proposing this subject, which has never been treated before, and in which I acknowledge there is material for magnificent development: Utraque manus in benedicendo clericis inferioribus necessaria est.”
D’Artagnan, whose erudition we are familiar with, did not bat an eye at this citation, any more than he had at the one M. de Tréville had made to him concerning the presents d’Artagnan had received from M. de Buckingham.
“Which is to say,” Aramis continued, to make it easier for him, “‘Both hands are indispensable for priests of the lower orders when they give the blessing.’”
“An admirable subject!” cried the Jesuit.
“Admirable and dogmatic,” repeated the curate, who, being about as strong in Latin as d’Artagnan, carefully kept an eye on the Jesuit, in order to lock steps with him and repeat his words like an echo.
As for d’Artagnan, he remained perfectly indifferent to the enthusiasm of the two men in black.
“Yes, admirable! prorsus admirabile!”* Aramis went on. “But it demands a thorough study of the Fathers and of the Scriptures. Now, I have confessed to these learned ecclesiastics, and that in all humility, that the watches of the corps of guards and the service of the king have made me neglect my studies somewhat. I would thus find myself more at ease, facilius natans,** with a subject of my own choice, which would be to these tough theological questions what ethics is to metaphysics in philosophy.”
D’Artagnan was profoundly bored, as was the curate.
“What an exordium!” cried the Jesuit.
“Exordium,” repeated the curate, in order to say something.
“Quemadmodum inter cœlorum immensitatem.”†
Aramis gave d’Artagnan a sidelong glance and saw