e Winter, the seductions of Milady,
her first attempts after her arrival. He drew back a step, and hung down
his head, without, however, ceasing to look at her, as if, fascinated by
this strange creature, he could not detach his eyes from her eyes.

Milady was not a woman to misunderstand the meaning of this hesitation.
Under her apparent emotions her icy coolness never abandoned her.
Before Felton replied, and before she should be forced to resume this
conversation, so difficult to be sustained in the same exalted tone, she
let her hands fall; and as if the weakness of the woman overpowered the
enthusiasm of the inspired fanatic, she said: "But no, it is not for me
to be the Judith to deliver Bethulia from this Holofernes. The sword of
the eternal is too heavy for my arm. Allow me, then, to avoid dishonor
by death; let me take refuge in martyrdom. I do not ask you for liberty,
as a guilty one would, nor for vengeance, as would a pagan. Let me die;
that is all. I supplicate you, I implore you on my knees--let me die,
and my last sigh shall be a blessing for my preserver."

Hearing that voice, so sweet and suppliant, seeing that look, so timid
and downcast, Felton reproached himself. By degrees the enchantress had
clothed herself with that magic adornment which she assumed and threw
aside at will; that is to say, beauty, meekness, and tears--and above
all, the irresistible attraction of mystical voluptuousness, the most
devouring of all voluptuousness.

"Alas!" said Felton, "I can do but one thing, which is to pity you
if you prove to me you are a victim! But Lord de Winter makes cruel
accusations against you. You are a Christian; you are my sister in
religion. I feel myself drawn toward you--I, who have never loved anyone
but my benefactor--I who have met with nothing but traitors and
impious men. But you, madame, so beautiful in reality, you, so pure in
appearance, must have committed great iniquities for Lord de Winter to
pursue you thus."

"They have eyes," repeated Milady, with an accent of indescribable
grief, "but they see not; ears have they, but they hear not."

"But," cried the young officer, "speak, then, speak!"

"Confide my shame to you," cried Milady, with the blush of modesty
upon her countenance, "for often the crime of one becomes the shame of
another--confide my shame to you, a man, and I a woman? Oh," continued
she, placing her hand modestly over her beautiful eyes, "never!
never!--I could not!"