Milady continued:
“One day our doors will ope,
With God come our desire;
And if betrays that hope,
To death we can aspire.”
This verse, into which the terrible enchantress threw her whole soul, completed the trouble which had seized the heart of the young officer. He opened the door quickly; and Milady saw him appear, pale as usual, but with his eye inflamed and almost wild.
“Why do you sing thus, and with such a voice?” said he.
“Your pardon, sir,” said Milady, with mildness. “I forgot that my songs are out of place in this castle. I have perhaps offended you in your creed; but it was without wishing to do so, I swear. Pardon me, then, a fault which is perhaps great, but which certainly was involuntary.”
Milady was so beautiful at this moment, the religious ecstasy in which she appeared to be plunged gave such an expression to her countenance, that Felton was so dazzled that he fancied he beheld the angel whom he had only just before heard.
“Yes, yes,” said he; “you disturb, you agitate the people who live in the castle.”
The poor, senseless young man was not aware of the incoherence of his words, while Milady was reading with her lynx’s eyes the very depths of his heart.
“I will be silent, then,” said Milady, casting down her eyes with all the sweetness she could give to her voice, with all the resignation she could impress upon her manner.
“No, no, madame,” said Felton, “only do not sing so loud, particularly at night.”