uated between
the Rue Cassette and the Rue Servandoni.

D'Artagnan had just passed the Rue Cassette, and already perceived the
door of his friend's house, shaded by a mass of sycamores and clematis
which formed a vast arch opposite the front of it, when he perceived
something like a shadow issuing from the Rue Servandoni. This something
was enveloped in a cloak, and d'Artagnan at first believed it was a man;
but by the smallness of the form, the hesitation of the walk, and the
indecision of the step, he soon discovered that it was a woman. Further,
this woman, as if not certain of the house she was seeking, lifted up
her eyes to look around her, stopped, went backward, and then returned
again. D'Artagnan was perplexed.

"Shall I go and offer her my services?" thought he. "By her step she
must be young; perhaps she is pretty. Oh, yes! But a woman who wanders
in the streets at this hour only ventures out to meet her lover. If
I should disturb a rendezvous, that would not be the best means of
commencing an acquaintance."

Meantime the young woman continued to advance, counting the houses
and windows. This was neither long nor difficult. There were but three
hotels in this part of the street; and only two windows looking toward
the road, one of which was in a pavilion parallel to that which Aramis
occupied, the other belonging to Aramis himself.

"PARIDIEU!" said d'Artagnan to himself, to whose mind the niece of the
theologian reverted, "PARDIEU, it would be droll if this belated dove
should be in search of our friend's house. But on my soul, it looks so.
Ah, my dear Aramis, this time I shall find you out." And d'Artagnan,
making himself as small as he could, concealed himself in the darkest
side of the street near a stone bench placed at the back of a niche.

The young woman continued to advance; and in addition to the lightness
of her step, which had betrayed her, she emitted a little cough which
denoted a sweet voice. D'Artagnan believed this cough to be a signal.

Nevertheless, whether the cough had been answered by a similar signal
which had fixed the irresolution of the nocturnal seeker, or whether
without this aid she saw that she had arrived at the end of her journey,
she resolutely drew near to Aramis's shutter, and tapped, at three equal
intervals, with her bent finger.

"This is all very fine, dear Aramis," murmured d'Artagnan. "Ah, Monsieur
Hypocrite, I understand how you study theology."

The three blo