n go to sleep as comfortably
as a little child. The want of sleep is very trying, the want of proper
food and of fresh air is very weakening; the prisoner must give way
sooner or later--"

So these fiends had decided it between them, and they had put their idea
into execution for one whole week. Marguerite looked at Chauvelin as she
would on some monstrous, inscrutable Sphinx, marveling if God--even in
His anger--could really have created such a fiendish brain, or, having
created it, could allow it to wreak such devilry unpunished.

Even now she felt that he was enjoying the mental anguish which he had
put upon her, and she saw his thin, evil lips curled into a smile.

"So you came to-night to tell me all this?" she asked as soon as
she could trust herself to speak. Her impulse was to shriek out her
indignation, her horror of him, into his face. She longed to call down
God's eternal curse upon this fiend; but instinctively she held herself
in check. Her indignation, her words of loathing would only have added
to his delight.

"You have had your wish," she added coldly; "now, I pray you, go."

"Your pardon, Lady Blakeney," he said with all his habitual blandness;
"my object in coming to see you tonight was twofold. Methought that I
was acting as your friend in giving you authentic news of Sir Percy, and
in suggesting the possibility of your adding your persuasion to ours."

"My persuasion? You mean that I--"

"You would wish to see your husband, would you not, Lady Blakeney?"

"Yes."

"Then I pray you command me. I will grant you the permission whenever
you wish to go."

"You are in the hope, citizen," she said, "that I will do my best to
break my husband's spirit by my tears or my prayers--is that it?"

"Not necessarily," he replied pleasantly. "I assure you that we can
manage to do that ourselves, in time."

"You devil!" The cry of pain and of horror was involuntarily wrung from
the depths of her soul. "Are you not afraid that God's hand will strike
you where you stand?"

"No," he said lightly; "I am not afraid, Lady Blakeney. You see, I do
not happen to believe in God. Come!" he added more seriously, "have I
not proved to you that my offer is disinterested? Yet I repeat it even
now. If you desire to see Sir Percy in prison, command me, and the doors
shall be open to you."

She waited a moment, looking him straight and quite dispassionately in
the face; then she said coldly:

"Very well! I will go."