the manual with her finger but without touching it, as if she must be contaminated by it, “you may carry it back and make use of it yourself, for doubtless you are doubly the accomplice of Lord de Winter—the accomplice in his persecutions, the accomplice in his heresies.”
Felton made no reply, took the book with the same appearance of repugnance which he had before manifested, and retired pensively.
Lord de Winter came toward five o’clock in the evening. Milady had had time, during the whole day, to trace her plan of conduct. She received him like a woman who had already recovered all her advantages.
“It appears,” said the baron, seating himself in the armchair opposite that occupied by Milady, and stretching out his legs carelessly upon the hearth, “it appears we have made a little apostasy!”
“What do you mean, sir!”
“I mean to say that since we last met you have changed your religion. You have not by chance married a Protestant for a third husband, have you?”
“Explain yourself, my Lord,” replied the prisoner, with majesty; “for though I hear your words, I declare I do not understand them.”
“Then you have no religion at all; I like that best,” replied Lord de Winter, laughing.
“Certainly that is most in accord with your own principles,” replied Milady, frigidly.
“Oh, I confess it is all the same to me.”
“Oh, you need not avow this religious indifference, my Lord; your debaucheries and crimes would vouch for it.”