"Oh, yes it is you indeed! From what he has told me, I know you now.

I recognize you perfectly." The poor young woman could not possibly suspect what frightful cruelty was behind the rampart of that pure brow, behind those brilliant eyes in which she read nothing but interest and compassion.
"Then you know what I have suffered," said Mme.Bonacieux, "since he has told you what he has suffered; but to suffer for him is happiness." Milady replied mechanically, "Yes, that is happiness." She was thinking of something else.
"And then," continued Mme.Bonacieux, "my punishment is drawing to a close.

Tomorrow, this evening, perhaps, I shall see him again; and then the past will no longer exist." "This evening ?" asked Milady, roused from her reverie by these words.
"What do you mean?
Do you expect news from him ?" "I expect himself." "Himself?
D'Artagnan here ?" "Himself!" "But that's impossible! He is at the siege of La Rochelle with the cardinal.

He will not return till after the taking of the city." "Ah, you fancy so! But is there anything impossible for my d'Artagnan, the noble and loyal gentleman ?" "Oh, I cannot believe you!" "Well, read, then!" said the unhappy young woman, in the excess of her pride and joy, presenting a letter to Milady.
"The writing of Madame de Chevreuse!" said Milady to herself.

"Ah, I always thought there was some secret understanding in that quarter!" And she greedily read the following few lines: My Dear Child, Hold yourself ready.