Seating her in her own luxurious chair, she sat down beside her, and began the conversation with the usual platitudes and commonplaces of the time, dwelling longer upon them than need was, as if she hesitated or feared to bring up the real subject of this midnight conference.
"My Lady is fair to look on. All women will admit that; all men swear to it!" said La Corriveau, in a harsh voice that grated ominously, like the door of hell which she was opening with this commencement of her business.
Angelique replied only with a smile. A compliment from La Corriveau even was not wasted upon her; but just now she was on the brink of an abyss of explanation, looking down into the dark pit, resolved, yet hesitating to make the plunge.
"No witch or witchery but your own charms is needed, Mademoiselle," continued La Corriveau, falling into the tone of flattery she often used towards her dupes, "to make what fortune you will in this world; what pearl ever fished out of the sea could add a grace to this wondrous hair of yours? Permit me to touch it, Mademoiselle!"
La Corriveau took hold of a thick tress, and held it up to the light of the lamp, where it shone like gold. Angelique shrank back as from the touch of fire. She withdrew her hair with a jerk from the hand of La Corriveau. A shudder passed through her from head to foot. It was the last parting effort of her good genius to save her.
"Do not touch it!" said she quickly; "I have set my life and soul on a desperate venture, but my hair--I have devoted it to our Lady of St. Foye; it is hers, not mine! Do not touch it, Dame Dodier."
Angelique was thinking of a vow she had once made before the shrine of the little church of Lorette. "My hair is the one thing belonging to me that I will keep pure," continued she; "so do not be angry with me," she added, apologetically.
"I am not angry," replied La Corriveau, with a sneer. "I am used to strange humors in people who ask my aid; they always fall out with themselves before they fall in with La Corriveau."
"Do you know why I have sent for you at this hour, good Dame Dodier?" asked Angelique, abruptly.
"Call me La Corriveau; I am not good Dame Dodier. Mine is an ill name, and I like it best, and so should you, Mademoiselle, for the business you sent me for is not what people who say their prayers call good. It was to find your lost jewels that Fanchon Dodier summoned me to your abode, was it not?" La Corriveau uttered this with a suppressed smile of incredulity.
"Ah! I bade Fanchon tell you that in order to deceive her, not you!
But you know better, La Corriveau! It was not for the sake of paltry jewels I desired you to come to the city to see me at this hour of midnight."
"I conjectured as much!" replied La Corriveau, with a sardonic smile which showed her small teeth, white, even, and cruel as those of a wildcat. "The jewel you have lost is the heart of your lover, and you thought La Corriveau had a charm to win it back; was not that it, Mademoiselle?"
Angelique sat upright, gazing boldly into the eyes of her visitor.
"Yes, it was that and more than that I summoned you for. Can you not guess? You are wise, La Corriveau, you know a woman's desire better than she dare avow it to herself!"
"Ah!" replied La Corriveau, returning her scrutiny with the eyes of a basilisk; a green light flashed out of their dark depths. "You have a lover, and you have a rival, too! A woman more potent than yourself, in spite of your beauty and your fascinations, has caught the eye and entangled the affections of the man you love, and you ask my counsel how to win him back and how to triumph over your rival. Is it not for that you have summoned La Corriveau?"
"Yes, it is that, and still more than that!" replied Angelique, clenching her hands hard together, and gazing earnestly at the fire with a look of merciless triumph at what she saw there reflected from her own thoughts distinctly as if she looked at her own face in a mirror.
"It is all that, and still more than that,--cannot you guess yet why I have summoned you here?" continued Angelique, rising and laying her left hand firmly upon the shoulder of La Corriveau, as she bent her head and whispered with terrible distinctness in her ear.
La Corriveau heard her whisper and looked up eagerly. "Yes, I know now, Mademoiselle,--you would kill your rival! There is death in your eye, in your voice, in your heart, but not in your hand! You would kill the woman who robs you of your lover, and you have sent for La Corriveau to help you in the good work! It is a good work in the eyes of a woman to kill her rival! but why should I do that to please you? What do I care for your lover, Angelique des Meloises?"
Angelique was startled to hear from the lips of another, words which gave free expression to her own secret thoughts. A denial was on her lips, but the lie remained unspoken. She trembled before La Corriveau, but her resolution was unchanged.
"It was not only to please me, but to profit yourself that I sent for you!" Angelique replied eagerly, like one trying to outstrip her conscience and prevent it from overtaking her sin. "Hark you! you love gold, La Corriveau! I will give you all you crave in return for your help,--for help me you shall! you will never repent of it if you do; you will never cease to regret it if you do not! I will make you rich, La Corrivean! or else, by God! do you hear? I swear it! I will have you burnt for a witch, and your ashes strewn all over St. Valier!"
La Corriveau spat contemptuously upon the floor at the holy name.
"You are a fool, Angelique des Meloises, to speak thus to me! Do you know who and what I am? You are a poor butterfly to flutter your gay wings against La Corriveau; but still I like your spirit! women like you are rare. The blood of Exili could not have spoken bolder than you do; you want the life of a woman who has kindled the hell-fire of jealousy in your heart, and you want me to tell you how to get your revenge!"
"I do want you to do it, La Corriveau, and your reward shall be great!" answered Angelique with a burst of impatience. She could beat about the bush no longer.
