anguishing look, have not yet
seduced you, you heart of stone?"

"No, my Lord," replied the impassive young man; "your Lordship may be
assured that it requires more than the tricks and coquetry of a woman to
corrupt me."

"In that case, my brave lieutenant, let us leave Milady to find out
something else, and go to supper; but be easy! She has a fruitful
imagination, and the second act of the comedy will not delay its steps
after the first."

And at these words Lord de Winter passed his arm through that of Felton,
and led him out, laughing.

"Oh, I will be a match for you!" murmured Milady, between her teeth; "be
assured of that, you poor spoiled monk, you poor converted soldier, who
has cut his uniform out of a monk's frock!"

"By the way," resumed de Winter, stopping at the threshold of the door,
"you must not, Milady, let this check take away your appetite. Taste
that fowl and those fish. On my honor, they are not poisoned. I have
a very good cook, and he is not to be my heir; I have full and perfect
confidence in him. Do as I do. Adieu, dear sister, till your next
swoon!"

This was all that Milady could endure. Her hands clutched her armchair;
she ground her teeth inwardly; her eyes followed the motion of the door
as it closed behind Lord de Winter and Felton, and the moment she was
alone a fresh fit of despair seized her. She cast her eyes upon the
table, saw the glittering of a knife, rushed toward it and clutched it;
but her disappointment was cruel. The blade was round, and of flexible
silver.

A burst of laughter resounded from the other side of the ill-closed
door, and the door reopened.

"Ha, ha!" cried Lord de Winter; "ha, ha! Don't you see, my brave Felton;
don't you see what I told you? That knife was for you, my lad; she would
have killed you. Observe, this is one of her peculiarities, to get rid
thus, after one fashion or another, of all the people who bother her. If
I had listened to you, the knife would have been pointed and of steel.
Then no more of Felton; she would have cut your throat, and after that
everybody else's. See, John, see how well she knows how to handle a
knife."

In fact, Milady still held the harmless weapon in her clenched hand; but
these last words, this supreme insult, relaxed her hands, her strength,
and even her will. The knife fell to the ground.

"You were right, my Lord," said Felton, with a tone of profound disgust
which sounded to the very bottom of the heart of