“That man was he who had pursued me during a whole year, who had vowed my dishonor, and who, by the first words that issued from his mouth, gave me to understand he had accomplished it the preceding night.”

“Scoundrel!” murmured Felton.

“Oh, yes, scoundrel!” cried Milady, seeing the interest which the young officer, whose soul seemed to hang on her lips, took in this strange recital.  “Oh, yes, scoundrel!  He believed, having triumphed over me in my sleep, that all was completed.  He came, hoping that I would accept my shame, as my shame was consummated; he came to offer his fortune in exchange for my love.

“All that the heart of a woman could contain of haughty contempt and disdainful words, I poured out upon this man.  Doubtless he was accustomed to such reproaches, for he listened to me calm and smiling, with his arms crossed over his breast.  Then, when he thought I had said all, he advanced toward me; I sprang toward the table, I seized a knife, I placed it to my breast.

“Take one step more,” said I, “and in addition to my dishonor, you shall have my death to reproach yourself with.”

“There was, no doubt, in my look, my voice, my whole person, that sincerity of gesture, of attitude, of accent, which carries conviction to the most perverse minds, for he paused.

“‘Your death?’ said he; ’oh, no, you are too charming a mistress to allow me to consent to lose you thus, after I have had the happiness to possess you only a single time.  Adieu, my charmer; I will wait to pay you my next visit till you are in a better humor.’

“At these words he blew a whistle; the globe of fire which lighted the room reascended and disappeared.  I found myself again in complete darkness.  The same noise of a door opening and shutting was repeated the instant afterward; the flaming globe descended afresh, and I was completely alone.

“This moment was frightful; if I had any doubts as to my misfortune, these doubts had vanished in an overwhelming reality.  I was in the power of a man whom I not only detested, but despised—­of a man capable of anything, and who had already given me a fatal proof of what he was able to do.”

“But who, then was this man?” asked Felton.

“I passed the night on a chair, starting at the least noise, for toward midnight the lamp went out, and I was again in darkness.  But the night passed away without any fresh attempt on the part of my persecutor.  Day came; the table had disappeared, only I had still the knife in my hand.

“This knife was my only hope.

“I was worn out with fatigue.  Sleeplessness inflamed my eyes; I had not dared to sleep a single instant.  The light of day reassured me; I went and threw myself on the bed, without parting with the emancipating knife, which I concealed under my pillow.

“When I awoke, a fresh meal was served.

“This time, in spite of my terrors, in spite of my agony, I began to feel a devouring hunger.  It was forty-eight hours since I had taken any nourishment.  I ate some bread and some fruit; then, remembering the narcotic mixed with the water I had drunk, I would not touch that which was placed on the table, but filled my glass at a marble fountain fixed in the wall over my dressing table.