But I understand nothing about it." "You believe your eyes, at any rate." "To tell me very plainly there is 'Marchiali.'" "And in a good handwriting, too." "'Tis a wonder! I still see this order and the name of Seldon, Irishman.
I see it.

Ah! I even recollect that under this name there was a blot of ink." "No, there is no ink; no, there is no blot." "Oh! but there was, though; I know it, because I rubbed my finger--this very one--in the powder that was over the blot." "In a word, be it how it may, dear M.Baisemeaux," said Aramis, "and whatever you may have seen, the order is signed to release Marchiali, blot or no blot." "The order is signed to release Marchiali," replied Baisemeaux, mechanically, endeavoring to regain his courage.
"And you are going to release this prisoner.

If your heart dictates you to deliver Seldon also, I declare to you I will not oppose it the least in the world." Aramis accompanied this remark with a smile, the irony of which effectually dispelled Baisemeaux's confusion of mind, and restored his courage.
"Monseigneur," he said, "this Marchiali is the very same prisoner whom the other day a priest confessor of _our order_ came to visit in so imperious and so secret a manner." "I don't know that, monsieur," replied the bishop.
"'Tis no such long time ago, dear Monsieur d'Herblay." "It is true.

But _with us_, monsieur, it is good that the man of to-day should no longer know what the man of yesterday did." "In any case," said Baisemeaux, "the visit of the Jesuit confessor must have given happiness to this man." Aramis made no reply, but recommenced eating and drinking.

As for Baisemeaux, no longer touching anything that was on the table, he again took up the order and examined it every way.