“What do you say? Oh, you do not understand me! When I speak of ignominy, you think I speak of some chastisement, of imprisonment or death. Would to heaven! Of what consequence to me is imprisonment or death?”
“It is I who no longer understand you, madame,” said Felton.
“Or, rather, who pretend not to understand me, sir!” replied the prisoner, with a smile of incredulity.
“No, madame, on the honor of a soldier, on the faith of a Christian.”
“What, you are ignorant of Lord de Winter’s designs upon me?”
“I am.”
“Impossible; you are his confidant!”
“I never lie, madame.”
“Oh, he conceals them too little for you not to divine them.”
“I seek to divine nothing, madame; I wait till I am confided in, and apart from that which Lord de Winter has said to me before you, he has confided nothing to me.”