The Three Musketeers

taken."
    Then Milady collected all her energies, murmuring in the depths of her soul the name of Felton—the only beam of light that penetrated to her in the hell into which she had fallen; and like a serpent which folds and unfolds its rings to ascertain its strength, she enveloped Felton beforehand in the thousand meshes of her inventive imagination.
    Time, however, passed away; the hours, one after another, seemed to awaken the clock as they passed, and every blow of the brass hammer resounded upon the heart of the prisoner. At nine o'clock, Lord de Winter made his customary visit, examined the window and the bars, sounded the floor and the walls, looked to the chimney and the doors, without, during this long and minute examination, he or Milady pronouncing a single word.
    Doubtless both of them understood that the situation had become too serious to lose time in useless words and aimless wrath.
    "Well," said the baron, on leaving her "you will not escape tonight!"
    At ten o'clock Felton came and placed the sentinel. Milady recognized his step. She was as well acquainted with it now as a mistress is with that of the lover of her heart; and yet Milady at the same time detested and despised this weak fanatic.
    That was not the appointed hour. Felton did not enter.
    Two hours after, as midnight sounded, the sentinel was relieved. This time it WAS the hour, and from this moment Milady waited with impatience. The new sentinel commenced his walk in the corridor. At the expiration of ten minutes Felton came.
    Milady was all attention.
    "Listen," said the young man to the sentinel. "On no pretense leave the door, for you know that last night my Lord punished a soldier for having quit his post for an instant, although I, during his absence, watched in his place."
    "Yes, I know it," said the soldier.
    "I recommend you therefore to keep the strictest watch. For my part I am going to pay a second visit to this woman, who I fear entertains sinister intentions upon her own life, and I have received orders to watch her."
    "Good!" murmured Milady; "the austere Puritan lies."
    As to the soldier, he only smiled.
    "Zounds, Lieutenant!" said he; "you are not unlucky in being charged with such commissions, particularly if my Lord has authorized you to look into her bed."
    Felton blushed. Under any other circumstances he would have reprimanded the soldier for indulging in such pleasantry, but his conscience murmured too loud for his mouth to dare speak.
    "If I call, come," said he. "If anyone comes, call me."
    "I will, Lieutenant," said the soldier.
    Felton entered Milady's apartment. Milady arose.
    "You are here!" said she.
    "I promised to come," said Felton, "and I have come."
    "You promised me something else."
    "What, my God!" said the young man, who in spite of his self-command felt his knees tremble and the sweat start from his brow.
    "You promised to bring a knife, and to leave it with me after our interview."
    "Say no more of that, madame," said Felton. "There is no situation, however terrible it may be, which can authorize a creature of God to inflict death upon himself. I have reflected, and I cannot, must not be guilty of such a sin."
    "Ah, you have reflected!" said the prisoner, sitting down in her armchair, with a smile of disdain; "and I also have reflected."
    "Upon what?"
    "That I can have nothing to say to a man who does not keep his word."
    "Oh, my God!" murmured Felton.
    "You may retire," said Milady. "I will not talk."
    "Here is the knife," said Felton, drawing from his pocket the weapon which he had brought, according to his promise, but which he hesitated to give to his prisoner.
    "Let me see it," said Milady.
    "For what purpose?"
    "Upon my honor, I will instantly return it to you. You shall place it on that table, and you may remain between it and me."
    Felton offered the weapon to Milady, who examined the temper of it attentively, and who tried the point on the tip of her finger.
    "Well," said she, returning the knife to the young officer, "this is fine and good steel. You are a faithful friend, Felton."
    Felton took back the weapon, and laid it upon the table, as he had agreed with the prisoner.
    Milady followed him with her eyes, and made a gesture of satisfaction.
    "Now," said she, "listen to me."
    The request was needless. The young officer stood upright before her, awaiting her words as if to devour them.
    "Felton," said Milady, with a solemnity full of melancholy, "imagine that your sister, the daughter of