."

Then, looking at the moon as it struggled through a heavy black cloud
which seemed to hang over Notre-Dame, he said: "It is nine o'clock. If
she comes, she will come, as usual, in an hour or an hour and a half;
then there will be time for all."

At this moment a noise was heard on the bridge. Rene applied his ear to
the orifice of a long tube, the other end of which reached down the
street, terminating in a heraldic viper-head.

"No," he said, "it is neither _she_ nor _they_; it is men's footsteps,
and they stop at my door--they are coming here."

And three sharp knocks were heard at the door.

Rene hurried downstairs and put his ear against the door, without
opening it.

The three sharp blows were repeated.

"Who's there?" asked Maitre Rene.

"Must we mention our names?" inquired a voice.

"It is indispensable," replied Rene.

"Well, then, I am the Comte Annibal de Coconnas," said the same voice.

"And I am the Comte Lerac de la Mole," said another voice, which had not
as yet been heard.

"Wait, wait, gentlemen, I am at your service."

And at the same moment Rene drew the bolts and, lifting the bars, opened
the door to the two young men locking it after him. Then, conducting
them by the exterior staircase, he introduced them into the second
compartment.

La Mole, as he entered, made the sign of the cross under his cloak. He
was pale, and his hand trembled without his being able to repress this
symptom of weakness.

Coconnas looked at everything, one after the other; and seeing the door
of the cell, was about to open it.

"Allow me to observe, my dear young gentleman," said Rene, in his deep
voice, and placing his hand on Coconnas's, "those that do me the honor
of a visit have access only to this part of the room."

"Oh, very well," replied Coconnas; "besides, I feel like sitting down."
And he took a seat.

There was unbroken silence for a moment--Maitre Rene was waiting for one
or the other of the young men to open the conversation.

"Maitre Rene," at length said Coconnas, "you are a skilful man, and I
pray you tell me if I shall always remain a sufferer from my wound--that
is, always experience this shortness of breath, which prevents me from
riding on horseback, using my sword, and eating larded omelettes?"

Rene put his ear to Coconnas's chest and listened attentively to the
play of the lungs.

"No, Monsieur le Comte," he replied, "you will get well."

"Really?"

"Yes, I assure you