Felton blushed. Under any other circumstances he would have reprimanded the soldier for indulging in such pleasantry, but his conscience murmured too loud for his mouth to dare speak.
“If I call, come,” said he. “If anyone comes, call me.”
“I will, Lieutenant,” said the soldier.
Felton entered Milady’s apartment. Milady arose.
“You are here!” said she.
“I promised to come,” said Felton, “and I have come.”
“You promised me something else.”
“What, my God!” said the young man, who in spite of his self-command felt his knees tremble and the sweat start from his brow.
“You promised to bring a knife, and to leave it with me after our interview.”
“Say no more of that, madame,” said Felton. “There is no situation, however terrible it may be, which can authorize a creature of God to inflict death upon himself. I have reflected, and I cannot, must not be guilty of such a sin.”