"What are you meddling with, stupid?
Did anybody order you to prevent that woman from singing?
No.

You were told to guard her--to fire at her if she attempted to fly.

Guard her! If she flies, kill her; but don't exceed your orders." An expression of unspeakable joy lightened the countenance of Milady; but this expression was fleeting as the reflection of lightning.

Without appearing to have heard the dialogue, of which she had not lost a word, she began again, giving to her voice all the charm, all the power, all the seduction the demon had bestowed upon it: "For all my tears, my cares, My exile, and my chains, I have my youth, my prayers, And God, who counts my pains." Her voice, of immense power and sublime expression, gave to the rude, unpolished poetry of these psalms a magic and an effect which the most exalted Puritans rarely found in the songs of their brethren, and which they were forced to ornament with all the resources of their imagination.

Felton believed he heard the singing of the angel who consoled the three Hebrews in the furnace.
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.