“A friend! oh!” exclaimed the chevalier, “I can hardly pretend to be that. A poor priest who has been favored by a generous protector, and whose heart is full of gratitude and devotion, is all that I pretend to be to M. Fouquet.”

“He made you a bishop?”

“Yes, duchesse.”

“A very good retiring pension for so handsome a musketeer.”

“Yes; in the same way that political intrigue is for yourself,” thought Aramis.

“And so,” he added, “you inquired after me at M. Fouquet’s?”

“Easily enough. You had been to Fontainebleau with him, and had undertaken a voyage to your diocese, which is Belle-Ile-en-Mer, I believe.”