The man in the mantle bowed as they passed him, and put a piece of money into the grave-digger's hand.
"Mordioux!" murmured D'Artagnan; "why that man is Aramis himself." Aramis, in fact, remained alone, on that side at least; for hardly did he turn his head than 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." And he began to laugh.
The conversation lasted for fully half an hour.

D'Artagnan could not see the lady's face, for she kept her back turned toward 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 that of love.

At the end of the conversation the lady rose, and bowed most profoundly to Aramis.
"Oh, oh!" said D'Artagnan; "this rendezvous finishes like one of a very tender nature though.