om
he had spoken the evening before, and who had just arrived; this woman
entered, and approaching Milady's bed, offered her services.

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

"I am in a fever," said she; "I have not slept a single instant during
all this long night. I suffer horribly. Are you likely to be more humane
to me than others were yesterday? All I ask is permission 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 more she
would have to work upon, and Lord de Winter would redouble his watch.
Besides, the physician might declare the ailment feigned; and Milady,
after having lost the first trick, was not willing to lose the second.

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

"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 these eternal
complaints.

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

She gave so much vehemence, such magnetic eloquence to this exclamation,
that Felton in spite of himself advanced some steps into the room.

"He has come!" thought Milady.

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

Milady made no reply, but turning her beautiful head round upon her
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 went out. The
woman followed him, and Lord de Winter did not appear.

"I fancy I begin to see my way," murmured Milady, with a savage joy,
burying herself under the clothes to conceal from anybody who might be
watching her this burst of inward satisf