“I do not enter the Church; I re-enter it.  I deserted the Church for the world, for you know that I forced myself when I became a Musketeer.”

“I?  I know nothing about it.”

“You don’t know I quit the seminary?”

“Not at all.”

“This is my story, then.  Besides, the Scriptures say, ’Confess yourselves to one another,’ and I confess to you, d’Artagnan.”

“And I give you absolution beforehand.  You see I am a good sort of a man.”

“Do not jest about holy things, my friend.”

“Go on, then, I listen.”

“I had been at the seminary from nine years old; in three days I should have been twenty.  I was about to become an abbe, and all was arranged.  One evening I went, according to custom, to a house which I frequented with much pleasure:  when one is young, what can be expected?—­one is weak.  An officer who saw me, with a jealous eye, reading the lives of the saints to the mistress of the house, entered suddenly and without being announced.  That evening I had translated an episode of Judith, and had just communicated my verses to the lady, who gave me all sorts of compliments, and leaning on my shoulder, was reading them a second time with me.  Her pose, which I must admit was rather free, wounded this officer.  He said nothing; but when I went out he followed, and quickly came up with me.  ‘Monsieur the Abbe,’ said he, ‘do you like blows with a cane?’ ’I cannot say, monsieur,’ answered I; ‘no one has ever dared to give me any.’  ’Well, listen to me, then, Monsieur the Abbe!  If you venture again into the house in which I have met you this evening, I will dare it myself.’  I really think I must have been frightened.  I became very pale; I felt my legs fail me; I sought for a reply, but could find none-I was silent.  The officer waited for his reply, and seeing it so long coming, he burst into a laugh, turned upon his heel, and re-entered the house.  I returned to the seminary.

“I am a gentleman born, and my blood is warm, as you may have remarked, my dear d’Artagnan.  The insult was terrible, and although unknown to the rest of the world, I felt it live and fester at the bottom of my heart.  I informed my superiors that I did not feel myself sufficiently prepared for ordination, and at my request the ceremony was postponed for a year.  I sought out the best fencing master in Paris, I made an agreement with him to take a lesson every day, and every day for a year I took that lesson.  Then, on the anniversary of the day on which I had been insulted, I hung my cassock on a peg, assumed the costume of a cavalier, and went to a ball given by a lady friend of mine and to which I knew my man was invited.  It was in the Rue des France-Bourgeois, close to La Force.  As I expected, my officer was there.  I went up to him as he was singing a love ditty and looking tenderly at a lady, and interrupted him exactly in the middle of the second couplet.