Let me fight like a woman, then; my strength is in my weakness." Then, as if to render an account to herself of the changes she could place upon her countenance, so mobile and so expressive, she made it take all expressions from that of passionate anger, which convulsed her features, to that of the most sweet, most affectionate, and most seducing smile.

Then her hair assumed successively, under her skillful hands, all the undulations she thought might assist the charms of her face.

At length she murmured, satisfied with herself, "Come, nothing is lost; I am still beautiful." It was then nearly eight o'clock in the evening.

Milady perceived a bed; she calculated that the repose of a few hours would not only refresh her head and her ideas, but still further, her complexion.

A better idea, however, came into her mind before going to bed.