“Go on! go on!” said Felton; “you see plainly that I listen, and that I am anxious to know the end.”

“Evening came; the ordinary events took place.  During the darkness, as before, my supper was brought.  Then the lamp was lighted, and I sat down to table.  I only ate some fruit.  I pretended to pour out water from the jug, but I only drank that which I had saved in my glass.  The substitution was made so carefully that my spies, if I had any, could have no suspicion of it.

“After supper I exhibited the same marks of languor as on the preceding evening; but this time, as I yielded to fatigue, or as if I had become familiarized with danger, I dragged myself toward my bed, let my robe fall, and lay down.

“I found my knife where I had placed it, under my pillow, and while feigning to sleep, my hand grasped the handle of it convulsively.

“Two hours passed away without anything fresh happening.  Oh, my God! who could have said so the evening before?  I began to fear that he would not come.

“At length I saw the lamp rise softly, and disappear in the depths of the ceiling; my chamber was filled with darkness and obscurity, but I made a strong effort to penetrate this darkness and obscurity.

“Nearly ten minutes passed; I heard no other noise but the beating of my own heart.  I implored heaven that he might come.

“At length I heard the well-known noise of the door, which opened and shut; I heard, notwithstanding the thickness of the carpet, a step which made the floor creak; I saw, notwithstanding the darkness, a shadow which approached my bed.”

“Haste! haste!” said Felton; “do you not see that each of your words burns me like molten lead?”

“Then,” continued Milady, “then I collected all my strength; I recalled to my mind that the moment of vengeance, or rather, of justice, had struck.  I looked upon myself as another Judith; I gathered myself up, my knife in my hand, and when I saw him near me, stretching out his arms to find his victim, then, with the last cry of agony and despair, I struck him in the middle of his breast.

“The miserable villain!  He had foreseen all.  His breast was covered with a coat-of-mail; the knife was bent against it.

“‘Ah, ah!’ cried he, seizing my arm, and wresting from me the weapon that had so badly served me, ’you want to take my life, do you, my pretty Puritan?  But that’s more than dislike, that’s ingratitude!  Come, come, calm yourself, my sweet girl!  I thought you had softened.  I am not one of those tyrants who detain women by force.  You don’t love me.  With my usual fatuity I doubted it; now I am convinced.  Tomorrow you shall be free.’

“I had but one wish; that was that he should kill me.

“‘Beware!’ said I, ‘for my liberty is your dishonor.’

“‘Explain yourself, my pretty sibyl!’

“’Yes; for as soon as I leave this place I will tell everything.  I will proclaim the violence you have used toward me.  I will describe my captivity.  I will denounce this place of infamy.  You are placed on high, my Lord, but tremble!  Above you there is the king; above the king there is God!’