“Then,” said the abbess, looking at Milady with increasing interest, “I behold another poor victim?”
“Alas, yes,” said Milady.
The abbess looked at her for an instant with uneasiness, as if a fresh thought suggested itself to her mind.
“You are not an enemy of our holy faith?” said she, hesitatingly.
“Who—I?” cried Milady; “I a Protestant? Oh, no! I call to witness the God who hears us, that on the contrary I am a fervent Catholic!”
“Then, Madame,” said the abbess, smiling, “be reassured; the house in which you are shall not be a very hard prison, and we will do all in our power to make you cherish your captivity. You will find here, moreover, the young woman of whom I spoke, who is persecuted, no doubt, in consequence of some court intrigue. She is amiable and well-behaved.”
“What is her name?”
“She was sent to me by someone of high rank, under the name of Kitty. I have not tried to discover her other name.”
“Kitty!” cried Milady. “What? Are you sure?”
“That she is called so? Yes, Madame. Do you know her?”
Milady smiled to herself at the idea which had occurred to her that this might be her old chambermaid. There was connected with the remembrance of this girl a remembrance of anger; and a desire of vengeance disordered the features of Milady, which, however, immediately recovered the calm and benevolent expression which this woman of a hundred faces had for a moment allowed them to lose.