woman inside drew a second handkerchief from her
pocket, and exchanged it for that which had just been shown to her. Then
some words were spoken by the two women. At length the shutter closed.
The woman who was outside the window turned round, and passed within
four steps of d'Artagnan, pulling down the hood of her mantle; but
the precaution was too late, d'Artagnan had already recognized Mme.
Bonacieux.

Mme. Bonacieux! The suspicion that it was she had crossed the mind of
d'Artagnan when she drew the handkerchief from her pocket; but what
probability was there that Mme. Bonacieux, who had sent for M. Laporte
in order to be reconducted to the Louvre, should be running about the
streets of Paris at half past eleven at night, at the risk of being
abducted a second time?

This must be, then, an affair of importance; and what is the most
important affair to a woman of twenty-five! Love.

But was it on her own account, or on account of another, that she
exposed herself to such hazards? This was a question the young man
asked himself, whom the demon of jealousy already gnawed, being in heart
neither more nor less than an accepted lover.

There was a very simple means of satisfying himself whither Mme.
Bonacieux was going; that was to follow her. This method was so simple
that d'Artagnan employed it quite naturally and instinctively.

But at the sight of the young man, who detached himself from the wall
like a statue walking from its niche, and at the noise of the steps
which she heard resound behind her, Mme. Bonacieux uttered a little cry
and fled.

D'Artagnan ran after her. It was not difficult for him to overtake a
woman embarrassed with her cloak. He came up with her before she had
traversed a third of the street. The unfortunate woman was exhausted,
not by fatigue, but by terror, and when d'Artagnan placed his hand upon
her shoulder, she sank upon one knee, crying in a choking voice, "Kill
me, if you please, you shall know nothing!"

D'Artagnan raised her by passing his arm round her waist; but as he
felt by her weight she was on the point of fainting, he made haste to
reassure her by protestations of devotedness. These protestations were
nothing for Mme. Bonacieux, for such protestations may be made with the
worst intentions in the world; but the voice was all. Mme. Bonacieux
thought she recognized the sound of that voice; she reopened her eyes,
cast a quick glance upon the man who had terrified her so, and at