sisted in watching all night.

But the presence of this woman did not prevent Milady from thinking.

There was no longer a doubt that Felton was convinced; Felton was hers.
If an angel appeared to that young man as an accuser of Milady, he would
take him, in the mental disposition in which he now found himself, for a
messenger sent by the devil.

Milady smiled at this thought, for Felton was now her only hope--her
only means of safety.

But Lord de Winter might suspect him; Felton himself might now be
watched!

Toward four o'clock in the morning the doctor arrived; but since the
time Milady stabbed herself, however short, the wound had closed. The
doctor could therefore measure neither the direction nor the depth of
it; he only satisfied himself by Milady's pulse that the case was not
serious.

In the morning Milady, under the pretext that she had not slept well in
the night and wanted rest, sent away the woman who attended her.

She had one hope, which was that Felton would appear at the breakfast
hour; but Felton did not come.

Were her fears realized? Was Felton, suspected by the baron, about to
fail her at the decisive moment? She had only one day left. Lord de
Winter had announced her embarkation for the twenty-third, and it was
now the morning of the twenty-second.

Nevertheless she still waited patiently till the hour for dinner.

Although she had eaten nothing in the morning, the dinner was brought in
at its usual time. Milady then perceived, with terror, that the uniform
of the soldiers who guarded her was changed.

Then she ventured to ask what had become of Felton.

She was told that he had left the castle an hour before on horseback.
She inquired if the baron was still at the castle. The soldier replied
that he was, and that he had given orders to be informed if the prisoner
wished to speak to him.

Milady replied that she was too weak at present, and that her only
desire was to be left alone.

The soldier went out, leaving the dinner served.

Felton was sent away. The marines were removed. Felton was then
mistrusted.

This was the last blow to the prisoner.

Left alone, she arose. The bed, which she had kept from prudence and
that they might believe her seriously wounded, burned her like a bed of
fire. She cast a glance at the door; the baron had had a plank nailed
over the grating. He no doubt feared that by this opening she might
still by some diabolical means corrupt her guards.