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In the morning, Felton came as usual; but Milady allowed him to preside over all the preparations for breakfast without addressing a word to him.
When we were seated, he turned to the comte Jean, who had followed us, and said, "It rests with yourself whether you will return to Paris, or remain at Versailles. But as for milady, who seems much fatigued, she will, we trust, honor us by accepting a bed at the castle."
In the evening Lord de Winter accompanied the supper. "Sir," said Milady, "is your presence an indispensable accessory of my captivity? Could you not spare me the increase of torture which your visits cause me?" "How, dear sister!" said Lord de Winter.
The baron has just related a frightful story to me." Milady assumed her smile of a resigned victim, and shook her head. "Either you are a demon," continued Felton, "or the baron my benefactor, my father is a monster. I have known you four days; I have loved him four years. I therefore may hesitate between you. Be not alarmed at what I say; I want to be convinced.
Felton recognized it also, and made a step toward the door. Milady sprang toward him. "Oh, not a word," said she in a concentrated voice, "not a word of all that I have said to you to this man, or I am lost, and it would be you you " Then as the steps drew near, she became silent for fear of being heard, applying, with a gesture of infinite terror, her beautiful hand to Felton's mouth.
Milady in the course of the conversation twice or thrice bit her lips; she had to deal with a Gascon who played close. At the same hour as on the preceding evening, d'Artagnan retired.
It was evident that the servants who waited in the antechamber were warned, for as soon as d'Artagnan appeared, before even he had asked if Milady were visible, one of them ran to announce him. "Show him in," said Milady, in a quick tone, but so piercing that d'Artagnan heard her in the antechamber. He was introduced. "I am at home to nobody," said Milady; "observe, to nobody."
Felton made a slight bow, and directed his steps toward the door. At the moment he was about to go out, Lord de Winter appeared in the corridor, followed by the soldier who had been sent to inform him of the swoon of Milady. He held a vial of salts in his hand. "Well, what is it what is going on here?" said he, in a jeering voice, on seeing the prisoner sitting up and Felton about to go out.
Be quick, child. Of course I know that he gave you a sovereign to persuade me that it was important, but I won't see him, so be off." "But yes, milady," Annette answered, and disappeared. Lady Carey sipped her coffee. "I think," she said reflectively, "that it must be Melton." Annette reappeared. "Milady," she exclaimed, "His Highness insisted upon my bringing you this card.
Besides, d'Artagnan from her own admission knew Milady culpable of treachery in matters more important, and could entertain no respect for her. And yet, notwithstanding this want of respect, he felt an uncontrollable passion for this woman boiling in his veins passion drunk with contempt; but passion or thirst, as the reader pleases. D'Artagnan's plan was very simple.
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