"Without exception!" echoed she, scornfully. "The women will not believe that, at any rate, Chevalier. I do not believe it, for one." And she laughed in the consciousness of beauty. "Do you believe it?"
"No, that were impossible," replied he, "while Angelique des Meloises chooses to contest the palm of beauty."
"I contest no palm with her, Chevalier; but I give you this rosebud for your gallant speech. But tell me, what does Le Gardeur think of this wonderful beauty? Is there any talk of marriage?"
"There is, of course, much talk of an alliance." De Pean lied, and the truth had been better for him.
Angelique started as if stung by a wasp. The dance ceased for her, and she hastened to a seat. "De Pean," said she, "you promised to bring Le Gardeur forthwith back to the city; will you do it?"
"I will bring him back, dead or alive, if you desire it; but I must have time. That uncompromising Colonel Philibert is with him. His sister, too, clings to him like a good angel to the skirt of a sinner. Since you desire it,"--De Pean spoke it with bitterness,--"Le Gardeur shall come back, but I doubt if it will be for his benefit or yours, Mademoiselle."
"What do you mean, De Pean?" asked she, abruptly, her dark eyes alight with eager curiosity, not unmingled with apprehension. "Why do you doubt it will not be for his benefit or mine? Who is to harm him?"
"Nay, he will only harm himself, Angelique. And, by St. Picot! he will have ample scope for doing it in this city. He has no other enemy but himself." De Pean felt that she was making an ox of him to draw the plough of her scheming.
"Are you sure of that, De Pean?" demanded she, sharply.
"Quite sure. Are not all the associates of the Grand Company his fastest friends? Not one of them will hurt him, I am sure."
"Chevalier de Pean!" said she, noticing the slight shrug he gave when he said this, "you say Le Gardeur has no enemy but himself; if so, I hope to save him from himself, nothing more. Therefore I want him back to the city."
De Pean glanced towards Bigot. "Pardon me, Mademoiselle. Did the Intendant never speak to you of Le Gardeur's abrupt departure?" asked he.
"Never! He has spoken to you, though. What did he say?" asked she, with eager curiosity.
"He said that you might have detained him had you wished, and he blamed you for his departure."
De Pean had a suspicion that Angelique had really been instrumental in withdrawing Le Gardeur from the clutches of himself and associates; but in this he erred. Angelique loved Le Gardeur, at least for her own sake if not for his, and would have preferred he should risk all the dangers of the city to avoid what she deemed the still greater dangers of the country,--and the greatest of these, in her opinion, was the fair face of Heloise de Lotbiniere. While, from motives of ambition, Angelique refused to marry him herself, she could not bear the thought of another getting the man whom she had rejected.
De Pean was fairly puzzled by her caprices: he could not fathom, but he dared not oppose them.
At this moment Bigot, who had waited for the conclusion of a game of cards, rejoined the group where she sat.
Angelique drew in her robe and made room for him beside her, and was presently laughing and talking as free from care, apparently, as an oriole warbling on a summer spray. De Pean courteously withdrew, leaving her alone with the Intendant.
Bigot was charmed for the moment into oblivion of the lady who sat in her secluded chamber at Beaumanoir. He forgot his late quarrel with Angelique in admiration of her beauty. The pleasure he took in her presence shed a livelier glow of light across his features. She observed it, and a renewed hope of triumph lifted her into still higher flights of gaiety.
"Angelique," said he, offering his arm to conduct her to the gorgeous buffet, which stood loaded with golden dishes of fruit, vases of flowers, and the choicest confectionery, with wine fit for a feast of Cyprus, "you are happy to-night, are you not? But perfect bliss is only obtained by a judicious mixture of earth and heaven: pledge me gaily now in this golden wine, Angelique, and ask me what favor you will."
"And you will grant it?" asked she, turning her eyes upon him eagerly.
"Like the king in the fairy tale, even to my daughter and half of my kingdom," replied he, gaily.
"Thanks for half the kingdom, Chevalier," laughed she, "but I would prefer the father to the daughter." Angelique gave him a look of ineffable meaning. "I do not desire a king to-night, however.
Grant me the lettre de cachet, and then--"
"And then what, Angelique?" He ventured to take her hand, which seemed to tempt the approach of his.
"You shall have your reward. I ask you for a lettre de cachet, that is all." She suffered her hand to remain in his.
"I cannot," he replied sharply to her urgent repetition. "Ask her banishment from Beaumanoir, her life if you like, but a lettre de cachet to send her to the Bastile I cannot and will not give!"
"But I ask it, nevertheless!" replied the wilful, passionate girl.
"There is no merit in your love if it fears risk or brooks denial!
You ask me to make sacrifices, and will not lift your finger to remove that stumbling-block out of my way! A fig for such love, Chevalier Bigot! If I were a man, there is nothing in earth, heaven, or hell I would not do for the woman I loved!"
Angelique fixed her blazing eyes full upon him, but magnetic as was their fire, they drew no satisfying reply. "Who in heaven's name is this lady of Beaumanoir of whom you are so careful or so afraid?"
"I cannot tell you, Angelique," said he, quite irritated. "She may be a runaway nun, or the wife of the man in the iron mask, or--"
"Or any other fiction you please to tell me in the stead of truth, and which proves your love to be the greatest fiction of all!"
