"Well?"
"I would redouble the surveillance."
"Oh, he does not seem to wish to escape."
"You do not know what prisoners are."
"Has he any books?"
"None; they are strictly prohibited, and under Monsieur de Mazarin's own hand."
"Have you the writing still?"
"Yes, my lord; would you like to look at it as you return to take your cloak?"
"I should, for I like to look at autographs."
"Well, then, this one is of the most unquestionable authenticity; there is only one erasure."
"Ah! ah! an erasure; and in what respect?"
"With respect to a figure. At first there was written: 'To be boarded at fifty francs.'"
"As princes of the blood, in fact?"
"But the cardinal must have seen his mistake, you understand; for he canceled the zero, and has added a one before the five. But, by the bye "
"What?"
"You do not speak of the resemblance."
"I do not speak of it, dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux, for a very simple reason — because it does not exist."
"The deuce it doesn't."
"Or, if it does exist, it is only in your own imagination; but, supposing it were to exist elsewhere, I think it would be better for you not to speak about it."
"Really."
"The king, Louis XIV. — you understand — would be excessively angry with you if he were to learn that you contributed in any way to spread the report that one of his subjects has the effrontery to resemble him."
"It is true, quite true," said Baisemeaux, thoroughly alarmed; "but I have not spoken of the circumstance to any one but yourself, and you understand, monseigneur, that I perfectly rely on your being discreet."
"Oh, be easy."
"Do you still wish to see the note?"
"Certainly."
While engaged in this manner in conversation they had returned to the governor's apartments. Baisemeaux took from the cupboard a private register, like the one he had already shown Aramis, but fastened by a lock, the key which opened it being one of a small bunch of keys which
