As d’Artagnan pursued his investigations, a more abundant and more icy sweat rolled in large drops from his forehead; his heart was oppressed by a horrible anguish; his respiration was broken and short. And yet he said, to reassure himself, that this pavilion perhaps had nothing in common with Mme. Bonacieux; that the young woman had made an appointment with him before the pavilion, and not in the pavilion; that she might have been detained in Paris by her duties, or perhaps by the jealousy of her husband.
Minél tovább nyomozott, annál bőségesebben gyöngyözött homlokán a hideg veríték; szívét szörnyű aggodalom marcangolta, lélegzete ki-kihagyott, de azért a maga megnyugtatására egyre csak azt mondta, hogy a pavilonnak talán semmi köze sincs Bonacieux-néhez; a fiatalasszony nem a pavilonban, hanem a pavilon elé hívta találkára, s talán a szolgálat vagy férjének féltékenysége marasztalta Párizsban.