“My brother met some emissaries of the cardinal in the uniform of musketeers. You would have been summoned to the gate; you would have believed yourself about to meet friends; you would have been abducted, and conducted back to Paris.”

“Oh, my God! My senses fail me amid such a chaos of iniquities. I feel, if this continues,” said Madame Bonacieux, raising her hands to her forehead, “I shall go mad!”

“Stop⁠—”

“What?”

“I hear a horse’s steps; it is my brother setting off again. I should like to offer him a last salute. Come!”

Milady opened the window, and made a sign to Madame Bonacieux to join her. The young woman complied.

Rochefort passed at a gallop.

“Adieu, brother!” cried Milady.