Give me anything you like, it is of little consequence." "Go and fetch Lord de Winter," said Felton, tired of these eternal complaints.
"Oh, no, no!" cried Milady; "no, sir, do not call him, I conjure you.

I am well, I want nothing; do not call him." She gave so much vehemence, such magnetic eloquence to this exclamation, that Felton in spite of himself advanced some steps into the room.
"He has come!" thought Milady.
"Meanwhile, madame, if you really suffer," said Felton, "a physician shall be sent for; and if you deceive us--well, it will be the worse for you.

But at least we shall not have to reproach ourselves with anything." Milady made no reply, but turning her beautiful head round upon her pillow, she burst into tears, and uttered heartbreaking sobs.
Felton surveyed her for an instant with his usual impassiveness; then, seeing that the crisis threatened to be prolonged, he went out.

The woman followed him, and Lord de Winter did not appear.
"I fancy I begin to see my way," murmured Milady, with a savage joy, burying herself under the clothes to conceal from anybody who might be watching her this burst of inward satisfaction.
Two hours passed away.
"Now it is time that the malady should be over," said she; "let me rise, and obtain some success this very day.

I have but ten days, and this evening two of them will be gone." In the morning, when they entered Milady's chamber they had brought her breakfast.