Milady dreamed that she at length had D'Artagnan in her power,that she was present at his execution; and it was the sight ofhis odious blood, flowing beneath the ax of the headsman, whichspread that charming smile upon her lips.

She slept as a prisoner sleeps, rocked by his first hope.

In the morning, when they entered her chamber she was still inbed. Felton remained in the corridor. He brought with him thewoman of whom he had spoken the evening before, and who had justarrived; this woman entered, and approaching Milady's bed,offered her services.

Milady was habitually pale; her complexion might thereforedeceive a person who saw her for the first time.

"I am in a fever," said she; "I have not slept a single instantduring all this long night. I suffer horribly. Are you likelyto be more humane to me than others were yesterday? All I ask ispermission to remain abed."

"Would you like to have a physician called?" said the woman.

Felton listened to this dialogue without speaking a word.

Milady reflected that the more people she had around her the moreshe would have to work upon, and Lord de Winter would redoublehis watch. Besides, the physician might declare the ailmentfeigned; and Milady, after having lost the first trick, was notwilling to lose the second.

"Go and fetch a physician?" said she. "What could be the good ofthat? These gentlemen declared yesterday that my illness was acomedy; it would be just the same today, no doubt - for sinceyesterday evening they have had plenty of time to send for adoctor."

"Then," said Felton, who became impatient, "say yourself, madame,what treatment you wish followed."

"Eh, how can I tell? My God! I know that I suffer, that's all.Give me anything you like, it is of little consequence."

"Go and fetch Lord de Winter," said Felton, tired of theseeternal complaints.

"Oh, no, no!" cried Milady; "no, sir, do not call him, I conjureyou. I am well, I want nothing; do not call him."

She gave so much vehemence, such magnetic eloquence to thisexclamation, that Felton in spite of himself advanced some stepsinto the room.

"He has come!" thought Milady.

"Meanwhile, madame, if you really suffer," said Felton, "aphysician shall be sent for; and if you deceive us - well, it willbe the worse for you. But at least we shall not have to reproachourselves with anything."

Milady made no reply, but turning her beautiful head round uponher pillow, she burst into tears, and uttered heartbreaking sobs.

Felton surveyed her for an instant with his usual impassiveness;then, seeing that the crisis threatened to be prolonged, he wentout. The woman followed him, and Lord de Winter did not appear.

"I fancy I begin to see my way," murmured Milady, with a savagejoy, burying herself under the clothes to conceal from anybodywho might be watching her this burst of inward satisfaction.

Two hours passed away.

"Now it is time that the malady should be over," said she; "letme rise, and obtain some success this very day. I have but tendays, and this evening two of them will be gone."

In the morning, when they entered Milady's chamber they hadbrought her breakfast. Now, she thought, they could not longdelay coming to clear the table, and that Felton would thenreappear.

Milady was not deceived. Felton reappeared, and withoutobserving whether Milady had or had not touched her repast, madea sign that the table should be carried out of the room, ithaving been brought in ready spread.

Felton remained behind; he held a book in his hand.

Milady, reclining in an armchair near the chimney, beautiful,pale, and resigned, looked like a holy virgin awaiting martyrdom.

Felton approached her, and said, "Lord de Winter, who is aCatholic, like yourself, madame, thinking that the deprivation ofthe rites and ceremonies of your church might be painful to you,has consented that you should read every day the ordinary of yourMass; and here is a book which contains the ritual."

At the manner in which Felton laid the book upon the little tablenear which Milady was sitting, at the tone in which he pronouncedthe two words, YOUR MASS, at the disdainful smile with which heaccompanied them, Milady raised her head, and looked moreattentively at the officer.

By that plain arrangement of the hair, by that costume of extremesimplicity, by the brow polished like marble and as hard andimpenetrable, she recognized one of those gloomy Puritans she hadso often met, not only in the court of King James, but in that ofthe King of France, where, in spite of the remembrance of the St.Bartholomew, they sometimes came to seek refuge.

She then had one of those sudden inspirations which only peopleof genius receive in great crises, in supreme moments which areto decide their fortunes or their lives.

Those two words, YOUR MASS, and a simple glance cast uponFelton, revealed to her all the importance of the reply she wasabout to make; but with that rapidity of intelligence which waspeculiar to her, this reply, ready arranged, presented itself toher lips:

"I?" said she, with an accent of disdain in unison with thatwhich she had remarked in the voice of the young officer, "I,sir? MY MASS? Lord de Winter, the corrupted Catholic, knowsvery well that I am not of his religion, and this is a snare hewishes to lay for me!"

"And of what religion are you, then, madame?" asked Felton, withan astonishment which in spite of the empire he held over himselfhe could not entirely conceal.

"I will tell it," cried Milady, with a feigned exultation, "onthe day when I shall have suffered sufficiently for my faith."

The look of Felton revealed to Milady the full extent of thespace she had opened for herself by this single word.

The young officer, however, remained mute and motionless; hislook alone had spoken.

"I am in the hands of my enemies," continued she, with that toneof enthusiasm which she knew was familiar to the Puritans."Well, let my God save me, or let me perish for my God! That isthe reply I beg you to make to Lord de Winter. And as to thisbook," added she, pointing to the manual with her finger butwithout touching it, as if she must be contaminated by it, "youmay carry it back and make use of it yourself, for doubtless youare doubly the accomplice of Lord de Winter - the accomplice inhis persecutions, the accomplice in his heresies."

Felton made no reply, took the book with the same appearance ofrepugnance which he had before manifested, and retired pensively.

Lord de Winter came toward five o'clock in the evening. Miladyhad had time, during the whole day, to trace her plan of conduct.She received him like a woman who had already recovered all heradvantages.

"It appears," said the baron, seating himself in the armchairopposite that occupied by Milady, and stretching out his legscarelessly upon the hearth, "it appears we have made a littleapostasy!"

"What do you mean, sir!"

"I mean to say that since we last met you have changed yourreligion. You have not by chance married a Protestant for athird husband, have you?"

"Explain yourself, my Lord," replied the prisoner, with majesty;"for though I hear your words, I declare I do not understandthem."

"Then you have no religion at all; I like that best," repliedLord de Winter, laughing.

"Certainly that is most in accord with your own principles,"replied Milady, frigidly.

"Oh, I confess it is all the same to me."

"Oh, you need not avow this religious indifference, my Lord; yourdebaucheries and crimes would vouch for it."

"What, you talk of debaucheries, Madame Messalina, Lady Macbeth!Either I misunderstand you or you are very shameless!"

"You only speak thus because you are overheard," coolly repliedMilady; "and you wish to interest your jailers and your hangmenagainst me."

"My jailers and my hangmen! Heyday, madame! you are taking apoetical tone, and the comedy of yesterday turns to a tragedythis evening. As to the rest, in eight days you will be whereyou ought to be, and my task will be completed."

"Infamous task! impious task!" cried Milady, with the exultationof a victim who provokes his judge.

"My word," said De Winter, rising, "I think the hussy is goingmad! Come, come, calm yourself, Madame Puritan, or I'll removeyou to a dungeon. It's my Spanish wine that has got into yourhead, is it not? But never mind; that sort of intoxication isnot dangerous, and will have no bad effects."

And Lord de Winter retired swearing, which at that period was avery knightly habit.

Felton was indeed behind the door, and had not lost one word ofthis scene. Milady had guessed aright.

"Yes, go, go,!" said she to her brother; "the effects ARE drawingnear, on the contrary; but you, weak fool, will not see themuntil it is too late to shun them."

Silence was re-established. Two hours passed away. Milady'ssupper was brought in, and she was found deeply engaged in sayingher prayers aloud - prayers which she had learned of an oldservant of her second husband, a most austere Puritan. Sheappeared to be in ecstasy, and did not pay the least attention towhat was going on around her. Felton made a sign that she shouldnot be disturbed; and when all was arranged, he went out quietlywith the soldiers.

Milady knew she might be watched, so she continued her prayers tothe end; and it appeared to her that the soldier who was on dutyat her door did not march with the same step, and seemed tolisten. For the moment she wished nothing better. She arose,came to the table, ate but little, and drank only water.

An hour after, her table was cleared; but Milady remarked thatthis time Felton did not accompany the soldiers. He feared,then, to see her too often.

She turned toward the wall to smile - for there was in this smilesuch an expression of triumph that this smile alone would havebetrayed her.

She allowed, therefore, half an hour to pass away; and as at thatmoment all was silence in the old castle, as nothing was heardbut the eternal murmur of the waves - that immense breaking of theocean - with her pure, harmonious, and powerful voice, she beganthe first couplet of the psalm then in great favor with thePuritans:

"Thou leavest thy servants, Lord,To see if they be strong;But soon thou dost affordThy hand to lead them on."

These verses were not excellent - very far from it; but as it iswell known, the Puritans did not pique themselves upon theirpoetry.

While singing, Milady listened. The soldier on guard at her doorstopped, as if he had been changed into stone. Milady was thenable to judge of the effect she had produced.

Then she continued her singing with inexpressible fervor andfeeling. It appeared to her that the sounds spread to a distancebeneath the vaulted roofs, and carried with them a magic charm tosoften the hearts of her jailers. It however likewise appearedthat the soldier on duty - a zealous Catholic, no doubt - shook offthe charm, for through the door he called: "Hold your tongue,madame! Your song is as dismal as a 'De profundis'; and ifbesides the pleasure of being in garrison here, we must hear suchthings as these, no mortal can hold out."

"Silence!" then exclaimed another stern voice which Miladyrecognized as that of Felton. "What are you meddling with,stupid? Did anybody order you to prevent that woman fromsinging? No. You were told to guard her - to fire at her if sheattempted to fly. Guard her! If she flies, kill her; but don'texceed your orders."

An expression of unspeakable joy lightened the countenance ofMilady; but this expression was fleeting as the reflection oflightning. Without appearing to have heard the dialogue, ofwhich she had not lost a word, she began again, giving to hervoice all the charm, all the power, all the seduction the demonhad bestowed upon it:

Her voice, of immense power and sublime expression, gave to therude, unpolished poetry of these psalms a magic and an effectwhich the most exalted Puritans rarely found in the songs oftheir brethren, and which they were forced to ornament with allthe resources of their imagination. Felton believed he heard thesinging of the angel who consoled the three Hebrews in thefurnace.

Milady continued:

"One day our doors will ope,With God come our desire;And if betrays that hope,To death we can aspire."

This verse, into which the terrible enchantress threw her wholesoul, completed the trouble which had seized the heart of theyoung officer. He opened the door quickly; and Milady saw himappear, pale as usual, but with his eye inflamed and almost wild.

"Why do you sing thus, and with such a voice?" said he.

"Your pardon, sir," said Milady, with mildness. "I forgot thatmy songs are out of place in this castle. I have perhapsoffended you in your creed; but it was without wishing to do so,I swear. Pardon me, then, a fault which is perhaps great, butwhich certainly was involuntary."

Milady was so beautiful at this moment, the religious ecstasy inwhich she appeared to be plunged gave such an expression to hercountenance, that Felton was so dazzled that he fancied he beheldthe angel whom he had only just before heard.

"Yes, yes," said he; "you disturb, you agitate the people wholive in the castle."

The poor, senseless young man was not aware of the incoherence ofhis words, while Milady was reading with her lynx's eyes the verydepths of his heart.

"I will be silent, then," said Milady, casting down her eyes withall the sweetness she could give to her voice, with all theresignation she could impress upon her manner.

"No, no, madame," said Felton, "only do not sing so loud,particularly at night."

And at these words Felton, feeling that he could not longmaintain his severity toward his prisoner, rushed out of theroom.

"You have done right, Lieutenant," said the soldier. "Such songsdisturb the mind; and yet we become accustomed to them, her voiceis so beautiful."