"Oh, my God!" said Mme. Bonacieux, "what is that noise?"
"That of either our friends or our enemies," said Milady, with her terrible coolness. "Stay where you are, I will tell you."
Mme. Bonacieux remained standing, mute, motionless, and pale as a statue.
The noise became louder; the horses could not be more than a hundred and fifty paces distant. If they were not yet to be seen, it was because the road made an elbow. The noise became so distinct that the horses might be counted by the rattle of their hoofs.