“And do you command nothing in your own name?”

“In my name,” said Mme. Bonacieux, with great emotion, “in my name I beg you! But listen; they appear to be speaking of me.”

D’Artagnan drew near the window, and lent his ear.

M. Bonacieux had opened his door, and seeing the apartment, had returned to the man in the cloak, whom he had left alone for an instant.

“She is gone,” said he; “she must have returned to the Louvre.”

“You are sure,” replied the stranger, “that she did not suspect the intentions with which you went out?”

“No,” replied Bonacieux, with a self-sufficient air,