At this moment the young man, supporting himself on his two elbows, drew close to Aramis’s face, with such an expression of dignity, of self-command and of defiance even, that the bishop felt the electricity of enthusiasm strike in devouring flashes from that great heart of his, into his brain of adamant.

“Speak, monseigneur. I have already told you that by conversing with you I endanger my life.

Little value as it has, I implore you to accept it as the ransom of your own.”

“Well,” resumed the young man, “this is why I suspected they had killed my nurse and my preceptor — ”

“Whom you used to call your father?”

“Yes; whom I called my father, but whose son I well knew I was not.”