D’Artagnan flew to his hole, laid himself down on the floor at full length, and listened.

Cries were soon heard, and then moans, which someone appeared to be endeavoring to stifle. There were no questions.

The devil! said d’Artagnan to himself. It seems like a woman! They search her; she resists; they use force⁠—the scoundrels!

In spite of his prudence, d’Artagnan restrained himself with great difficulty from taking a part in the scene that was going on below.

“But I tell you that I am the mistress of the house, gentlemen! I tell you I am Madame Bonacieux; I tell you I belong to the queen!” cried the unfortunate woman.

“Madame Bonacieux!” murmured d’Artagnan. “Can I be so lucky as to find what everybody is seeking for?”