"Yes, pretty well. The coadjutor has given me dispensations from fasting on the jours maigres, on account of my health; then I have engaged as my cook the cook who lived with Lafollone--you know the man I mean?--the friend of the cardinal, and the famous epicure whose grace after dinner used to be, 'Good Lord, do me the favor to cause me to digest what I have eaten.'"
"Nevertheless he died of indigestion, in spite of his grace," said D'Artagnan.
"What can you expect?" replied Aramis, in a tone of resignation. "Every man that's born must fulfil his destiny."
"If it be not an indelicate question," resumed D'Artagnan, "have you grown rich?"
"Oh, Heaven! no. I make about twelve thousand francs a year, without counting a little benefice of a thousand crowns the prince gave me."
"And how do
