He cared very little for being beloved by people who could be of no service to him.

Women, children, and old men, that is to say, the _cortege_ of ordinary pastors; was not the _cortege_ for him.
Ten minutes after the two friends had passed the threshold of the palace, Aramis returned like a triumphant conqueror; the soldiers presented arms to him as to a superior; the citizens bowed to him as to a friend and a patron, rather than as a head of the Church.

There was something in Aramis resembling those Roman senators who had their doors always surrounded by clients.

At the foot of the steps, he had a conference of half a minute with a Jesuit, who, in order to speak to him more secretly, passed his head under the dais.

He then re-entered his palace; the doors closed slowly, and the crowd melted away, whilst chants and prayers were still resounding abroad.