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“But as I took hold of that knife, Felton, a terrible idea came to me. I’ve sworn to tell you everything; I’ve promised you the truth, and I will tell it, though it be my ruin.”

“The idea came to you of revenging yourself on this man, is that it?” cried Felton.

“Why, yes!” said Milady. “It was not a Christian idea, I know. No doubt the eternal enemy of our souls, that lion ceaselessly roaring around us, breathed it into my mind. What can I tell you, Felton?” Milady went on in the tone of a woman accusing herself of a crime. “The idea came to me and doubtless never left me again. It is for that homicidal thought that I bear the punishment today.”

“Go on, go on,” said Felton, “I’m anxious to see you come to your vengeance.”

“Oh, I resolved that it would take place as soon as possible! I had no doubt that he would come back the next night. During the day I had nothing to fear.

“And so, when it came time for lunch, I did not hesitate to eat and drink. I had decided that I would pretend to eat supper, but take nothing. I thus had to use the day’s food to combat the evening’s fast.

“Only I hid a glass of water from my lunch, thirst having been what I had suffered from most when I went forty-eight hours without eating or drinking.

“The day passed without having any other influence on me than to harden me in the resolve I had taken; only I took care that my face did not betray in any way the thought in my heart, for I had no doubt that I was being observed. Several times I felt a smile on my lips—Felton, I dare not tell you what idea I was smiling at, you would hold me in horror…”

“Go on, go on,” said Felton, “you see very well I’m listening and am anxious to reach the end.”

“Evening came, the customary events took place: in the darkness, as usual, my supper was served, then the lamp was lit, and I sat down at the table.

“All I ate was some fruit. I pretended to pour myself water from the carafe, but only drank what I had set aside in my glass. Moreover, the substitution was done so deftly that my spies, if I had any, would have conceived no suspicions.

“After supper, I gave the same signs of numbness as the evening before, but this time, as if I was succumbing to fatigue or had grown familiar with the danger, I dragged myself to my bed and pretended to fall asleep.

“This time I found my knife under the pillow, and while I feigned sleep, my hand convulsively gripped its handle.

“Two hours went by without anything happening. This time—oh, my God, who would have thought it the day before?—I began to be afraid he wouldn’t come.

“At last, I saw the lamp rise quietly and disappear in the depths of the ceiling. My room filled with darkness, but I made an effort to see through the gloom.

“About ten minutes passed. I heard no other noise than the beating of my own heart.

“I begged heaven that he would come.

“At last I heard the well-known sound of the door opening and closing; despite the thickness of the carpet, I heard footsteps that made the floor creak; despite the darkness, I saw a shadow approaching my bed.”

“Hurry, hurry!” said Felton. “Don’t you see that each of your words burns me like molten lead?”

“Then,” Milady went on, “then I gathered all my strength, I reminded myself that the moment of vengeance, or rather of justice, had sounded. I considered myself another Judith. I crouched there, my knife in my hand, and when I saw him close to me, reaching out his arms to search for his victim, then, with a last cry of grief and despair, I stabbed him in the middle of his chest.

“The scoundrel! He had foreseen everything. His chest was covered with a coat of mail. The knife glanced off.

“‘Aha!’ he cried, seizing my arm and tearing from me the weapon that had served me so ill, ‘so you have designs on my life, my beautiful Puritan! But that is something more than hatred, that is ingratitude! Come, come, calm yourself, my beautiful child! I thought you were softening. I’m not one of those tyrants who keep women by force. You don’t love me. In