“You promised to bring a knife, and to leave it with me after our conversation.”
“Say no more of that, madame,” said Felton. “There is no situation, however terrible, that can authorize one of God’s creatures to inflict death upon itself. I have reflected that I could never become 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.”
“About 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 shall not speak.”
“Here is the knife,” said Felton, drawing from his pocket the weapon which, according to his promise, he had brought, but which he hesitated to give to his prisoner.
“Let me see it,” said milady.
“For what purpose?”
“On my honour I will instantly return it to you. You shall place it on that table, and you may remain between it and me.”
Felton handed the weapon to milady, who examined the temper of it attentively, and 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 on the table, in accordance with his agreement with his prisoner.
Milady followed him with her eyes, and made a gesture of satisfaction.
“Now,” said she, “listen to me.”
The recommendation was useless. The young officer was standing before her, awaiting her words as if to devour them.
“Felton,” said milady, with a solemnity full of melancholy, “if your sister, your father’s daughter, said to you,
“While still young, unfortunately beautiful, I was dragged into a snare. I resisted. Ambushes, acts of violence, were multiplied around me. I resisted. The religion I serve, the God I adore, were blasphemed because I called to my aid my religion and my God. I resisted. Then outrages were heaped upon me, and when they could not ruin my soul they determined to defile my body for ever. Finally—”
Milady stopped, and a bitter smile passed over her lips.
“Finally,” said Felton—finally, what did they do?”
“Finally, one evening, they resolved to paralyze my unconquerable resistance. One evening a powerful narcotic was mixed with my water. Scarcely had I finished my repast when I felt myself sink by degrees into a strange torpor. Though I was without suspicion, a vague fear seized me, and I tried to struggle