pure brow, behind those brilliant eyes in which she read nothing but interest and compassion.

“Then you know what I have suffered,” said Mme. Bonacieux, “since he has told you what he has suffered; but to suffer for him is happiness.”

Milady replied mechanically, “Yes, that is happiness.” She was thinking of something else.

“And then,” continued Mme. Bonacieux, “my punishment is drawing to a close. Tomorrow, this evening, perhaps, I shall see him again; and then the past will no longer exist.”

“This evening?” asked Milady, roused from her reverie by these words. “What do you mean? Do you expect news from him?”