“I, Madame, I?” cried Felton. “You suppose that I would ever accept the price of your life? Oh, you cannot believe what you say!”

“Let me act as I please, Felton, let me act as I please,” said Milady, elated. “Every soldier must be ambitious, must he not? You are a lieutenant? Well, you will follow me to the grave with the rank of captain.”

“What have I, then, done to you,” said Felton, much agitated, “that you should load me with such a responsibility before God and before men? In a few days you will be away from this place; your life, Madame, will then no longer be under my care, and,” added he, with a sigh, “then you can do what you will with it.”

“So,” cried Milady, as if she could not resist giving utterance to a holy indignation, “you, a pious man, you who are called a just man, you ask but one thing⁠—and that is that you may not be inculpated, annoyed, by my death!”

“It is my duty to watch over your life, Madame, and I will watch.”