"Some lackey," murmured d'Artagnan. "Poor woman, poor woman, what have they done with you?"
"You have promised to be secret, my good monsieur?" said the old man.
"And I renew my promise. Be easy, I am a gentleman. A gentleman has but his word, and I have given you mine."
With a heavy heart, d'Artagnan again bent his way toward the ferry. Sometimes he hoped it could not be Mme. Bonacieux, and that he should find her next day at the Louvre; sometimes he feared she had had an intrigue with another, who, in a jealous fit, had surprised her and carried her off. His mind was torn by doubt, grief, and despair.
