buried in five minutes. The grave having been filled up, the priests
turned away, and the grave-digger having addressed a few words to them,
followed them as they moved away. The man in the mantle bowed as they
passed him, and put a piece of gold into the grave-digger's hand.

"_Mordioux!_" murmured D'Artagnan; "it is Aramis himself."

Aramis, in fact, remained alone, on that side at least; for hardly had he
turned his head when a woman's footsteps, and the rustling of her dress,
were heard in the path close to him. He immediately turned round, and
took off his hat with the most ceremonious respect; he led the lady under
the shelter of some walnut and lime trees, which overshadowed a
magnificent tomb.

"Ah! who would have thought it," said D'Artagnan; "the bishop of Vannes
at a rendezvous! He is still the same Abbe Aramis as he was at Noisy-le-
Sec. Yes," he added, after a pause; "but as it is in a cemetery, the
rendezvous is sacred." But he almost laughed.

The conversation lasted for fully half an hour. D'Artagnan could not see
the lady's face, for she kept her back turned towards him; but he saw
perfectly well, by the erect attitude of both the speakers, by their
gestures, by the measured and careful manner with which they glanced at
each other, either by way of attack or defense, that they must be
conversing about any other subject than of love. At the end of the
conversation the lady rose, and bowed profoundly to Aramis.

"Oh, oh," said D'Artagnan; "this rendezvous finishes like one of a very
tender nature though. The cavalier kneels at the beginning, the young
lady by and by gets tamed down, and then it is she who has to