The countenance of Milady was illumined by so savage a joy that under any other circumstances Madame Bonacieux would have fled in terror; but she was absorbed by jealousy.

“Speak, Madame!” resumed Madame Bonacieux, with an energy of which she might not have been believed capable. “Have you been, or are you, his mistress?”

“Oh, no!” cried Milady, with an accent that admitted no doubt of her truth. “Never, never!”

“I believe you,” said Madame Bonacieux; “but why, then, did you cry out so?”

“Do you not understand?” said Milady, who had already overcome her agitation and recovered all her presence of mind.

“How can I understand? I know nothing.”