Aramis did let go, not the bridle, but the horse's nose. Porthos released his hand, clapped spurs to his horse, which set off at a gallop. As long as he could distinguish Porthos through the darkness, Aramis followed him with his eyes: when he was completely out of sight, he re-entered the yard. Nothing had stirred in D'Artagnan's apartment.
The _valet_ placed on watch at the door had neither seen any light, nor heard any noise. Aramis closed his door carefully, sent the lackey to bed, and quickly sought his own. D'Artagnan really suspected nothing, therefore thought he had gained everything, when he awoke in the morning, about half-past four. He ran to the window in his shirt. The window looked out upon the court. Day was dawning. The court was deserted; the fowls, even, had not left their roosts. Not a servant appeared. Every door was closed.
"Good! all is still," said D'Artagnan to himself. "Never mind: I am up first in the house. Let us dress; that will be so much done." And D'Artagnan dressed himself. But, this time, he endeavored not to give to the costume of M. Agnan that _bourgeoise_ and almost ecclesiastical rigidity he had affected before; he managed, by drawing his belt tighter, by buttoning his clothes in a different fashion, and by putting on his hat a little on one side, to restore to his person a little of that military character, the absence of which had surprised Aramis. This being done, he made free, or affected to make free with his host, and entered his chamber without ceremony. Aramis was asleep or feigned to be so. A large book lay open upon his night-desk, a wax-light was still burning in its silver sconce. This was more than enough to prove to D'Artagnan the quiescence of the prelate's night, and the good intentions of his waking. The musketeer did to the bishop precisely as the bishop had done to Porthos - he tapped him on the shoulder. Evidently Aramis pretended to sleep; for, instead of waking suddenly, he who slept so lightly required a repetition of the summons.
"Ah! ah! is that you?" said he, stretching his arms. "What an agreeable surprise! _Ma foi!_ Sleep had made me forget I had the happiness to possess you. What o'clock is it?"
"I do not know," said D'Artagnan, a little embarrassed. "Early, I believe. But, you know, that devil of a habit of waking with the day, sticks to me still."
"Do you wish that we should go out so soon?" asked Aramis. "It appears to me to be very early."
"Just as you like."
"I thought we had agreed not to get on horseback before eight."
"Possibly; but I had so great a wish to see you, that I said to myself, the sooner the better."
"And my seven hours' sleep!" said Aramis: "Take care; I had reckoned upon them, and what I lose of them I must make up."
"But it seems to me that, formerly, you were less of a sleeper than that, dear friend; your blood was alive, and you were never to be found in bed."
"And it is exactly on account of what you tell me, that I am so fond of being there now."
"Then you confess, that it is not for the sake of sleeping, that you have put me off till eight o'clock."
"I have been afraid you would laugh at me, if I told you the truth."
"Tell me, notwithstanding."
"Well, from six to eight, I am accustomed to perform my devotions."
"Your devotions?"
"Yes."
"I did not believe a bishop's exercises were so severe."
"A bishop, my friend, must sacrifice more to appearance than a simple cleric."
"_Mordioux!_ Aramis, that is a word which reconciles me with your greatness. To appearances! That is a musketeer's word, in good truth!
_Vivent les apparences_, Aramis!"
"Instead of felicitating me upon it, pardon me, D'Artagnan. It is a very mundane word which I had allowed to escape me."
"Must I leave you, then?"
"I want time to collect my thoughts, my friend, and for my usual prayers."
"Well, I leave you to them; but on account of that poor pagan, D'Artagnan, abridge them for once, I beg; I thirst for speech with you."
"Well, D'Artagnan, I promise you that within an hour and a half - "
"An hour and a half of devotions! Ah! my friend, be as reasonable with me as you can. Let me have the best bargain possible."
Aramis began to laugh.
"Still agreeable, still young, still gay," said he. "You have come into my diocese to set me quarreling with grace."
"Bah!"
"And you know well that I was never able to resist your seductions; you will cost me my salvation, D'Artagnan."
D'Artagnan bit his lips.
"Well," said he, "I will take the sin on my own head, favor me with one simple Christian sign of the cross, favor me with one prayer, and we will part."
"Hush!" said Aramis, "we are already no longer alone, I hear strangers coming up."
"Well, dismiss them."
"Impossible; I made an appointment with them yesterday; it is the principal of the college of the Jesuits, and the superior of the Dominicans."
"Your staff? Well, so be it."
"What are you going to do?"
"I will go and wake Porthos, and remain in his company till you have finished the conference."
Aramis did not stir, his brow remained unbent, he betrayed himself by no gesture or word; "Go," said he, as D'Artagnan advanced to the door. "_A propos_, do you know where Porthos sleeps?"
"No, but I will inquire."
"Take the corridor, and open the second door on the left."
"Thank you! _au revoir_." And D'Artagnan departed in the direction pointed out by Aramis.
Ten minutes had not passed away when he came back. He found Aramis seated between the superior of the Dominicans and the principal of the college of the Jesuits, exactly in the same situation as he had found him formerly in the auberge at Crevec?ur. This company did not at all terrify the musketeer.
"What is it?" said Aramis, quietly. "You have apparently something to say to me, my friend."
"It is," replied D'Artagnan, fixing his eyes upon Aramis, "it is that Porthos is not in his apartment."
"Indeed," said Aramis calmly; "are you sure?"
"_Pardieu!_ I came from his chamber."
"Where can he be, then?"
"That is what I am asking _you_."
"And have you not inquired?"
"Yes, I have."
"And what answer did you get?"
