ndicated, had an interest in not
being recognized.

They took the bridge. That was d'Artagnan's road, as he was going to the
Louvre. D'Artagnan followed them.

He had not gone twenty steps before he became convinced that the woman
was really Mme. Bonacieux and that the man was Aramis.

He felt at that instant all the suspicions of jealousy agitating his
heart. He felt himself doubly betrayed, by his friend and by her whom
he already loved like a mistress. Mme. Bonacieux had declared to him,
by all the gods, that she did not know Aramis; and a quarter of an hour
after having made this assertion, he found her hanging on the arm of
Aramis.

D'Artagnan did not reflect that he had only known the mercer's pretty
wife for three hours; that she owed him nothing but a little gratitude
for having delivered her from the men in black, who wished to carry her
off, and that she had promised him nothing. He considered himself an
outraged, betrayed, and ridiculed lover. Blood and anger mounted to his
face; he was resolved to unravel the mystery.

The young man and young woman perceived they were watched, and redoubled
their speed. D'Artagnan determined upon his course. He passed them, then
returned so as to meet them exactly before the Samaritaine. Which was
illuminated by a lamp which threw its light over all that part of the
bridge.

D'Artagnan stopped before them, and they stopped before him.

"What do you want, monsieur?" demanded the Musketeer, recoiling a
step, and with a foreign accent, which proved to d'Artagnan that he was
deceived in one of his conjectures.

"It is not Aramis!" cried he.

"No, monsieur, it is not Aramis; and by your exclamation I perceive you
have mistaken me for another, and pardon you."

"You pardon me?" cried d'Artagnan.

"Yes," replied the stranger. "Allow me, then, to pass on, since it is
not with me you have anything to do."

"You are right, monsieur, it is not with you that I have anything to do;
it is with Madame."

"With Madame! You do not know her," replied the stranger.

"You are deceived, monsieur; I know her very well."

"Ah," said Mme. Bonacieux; in a tone of reproach, "ah, monsieur, I had
your promise as a soldier and your word as a gentleman. I hoped to be
able to rely upon that."

"And I, madame!" said d'Artagnan, embarrassed; "you promised me--"

"Take my arm, madame," said the stranger, "and let us continue our way."

D'Artagnan, however, stupefied, cast down, annihil