he wishes to lay for me!"

"And of what religion are you, then, madame?" asked Felton, with an
astonishment which in spite of the empire he held over himself he could
not entirely conceal.

"I will tell it," cried Milady, with a feigned exultation, "on the day
when I shall have suffered sufficiently for my faith."

The look of Felton revealed to Milady the full extent of the space she
had opened for herself by this single word.

The young officer, however, remained mute and motionless; his look alone
had spoken.

"I am in the hands of my enemies," continued she, with that tone of
enthusiasm which she knew was familiar to the Puritans. "Well, let my
God save me, or let me perish for my God! That is the reply I beg you to
make to Lord de Winter. And as to this book," added she, pointing to
the manual with her finger but without touching it, as if she must be
contaminated by it, "you may carry it back and make use of it yourself,
for doubtless you are doubly the accomplice of Lord de Winter--the
accomplice in his persecutions, the accomplice in his heresies."

Felton made no reply, took the book with the same appearance of
repugnance which he had before manifested, and retired pensively.

Lord de Winter came toward five o'clock in the evening. Milady had had
time, during the whole day, to trace her plan of conduct. She received
him like a woman who had already recovered all her advantages.

"It appears," said the baron, seating himself in the armchair opposite
that occupied by Milady, and stretching out his legs carelessly upon the
hearth, "it appears we have made a little apostasy!"

"What do you mean, sir!"

"I mean to say that since we last met you have changed your religion.
You have not by chance married a Protestant for a third husband, have
you?"

"Explain yourself, my Lord," replied the prisoner, with majesty; "for
though I hear your words, I declare I do not understand them."

"Then you have no religion at all; I like that best," replied Lord de
Winter, laughing.

"Certainly that is most in accord with your own principles," replied
Milady, frigidly.

"Oh, I confess it is all the same to me."

"Oh, you need not avow this religious indifference, my Lord; your
debaucheries and crimes would vouch for it."

"What, you talk of debaucheries, Madame Messalina, Lady Macbeth! Either
I misunderstand you or you are very shameless!"

"You only speak thus because you are overheard," coolly replied Milady;