Every instant Mme.Bonacieux expected to see Milady, but she did not return.

Several times, with terror, no doubt, the cold sweat burst from her burning brow.
At length she heard the grating of the hinges of the opening gates; the noise of boots and spurs resounded on the stairs.

There was a great murmur of voices which continued to draw near, amid which she seemed to hear her own name pronounced.
All at once she uttered a loud cry of joy, and darted toward the door; she had recognized the voice of d'Artagnan.
"d'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!" cried she, "is it you?
This way! this way!" "Constance?
Constance ?" replied the young man, "where are you?
where are you?
My God!" At the same moment the door of the cell yielded to a shock, rather than opened; several men rushed into the chamber.

Mme.Bonacieux had sunk into an armchair, without the power of moving.
D'Artagnan threw down a yet-smoking pistol which he held in his hand, and fell on his knees before his mistress.

Athos replaced his in his belt; Porthos and Aramis, who held their drawn swords in their hands, returned them to their scabbards.
"Oh, d'Artagnan, my beloved d'Artagnan! You have come, then, at last! You have not deceived me! It is indeed thee!" "Yes, yes, Constance.