Le chien d'or. English

  CHAPTER XLIII. SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS.

  It was long before Angelique came to herself from the swoon in which shehad been left lying on the floor by La Corriveau. Fortunately for her itwas without discovery. None of the servants happened to come to herroom during its continuance, else a weakness so strange to her usualhardihood would have become the city's talk before night, and set allits idle tongues conjecturing or inventing a reason for it. It wouldhave reached the ears of Bigot, as every spray of gossip did, and sethim thinking, too, more savagely than he was yet doing, as to the causesand occasions of the murder of Caroline.

  All the way back to the Palace, Bigot had scarcely spoken a word toCadet. His mind was in a tumult of the wildest conjectures, and histhoughts ran to and fro like hounds in a thick brake darting in everydirection to find the scent of the game they were in search of. Whenthey reached the Palace, Bigot, without speaking to any one, passedthrough the anterooms to his own apartment, and threw himself, dressedand booted as he was, upon a couch, where he lay like a man strickendown by a mace from some unseen hand.

  Cadet had coarser ways of relieving himself from the late unusual strainupon his rough feelings. He went down to the billiard-room, and joiningrecklessly in the game that was still kept up by De Pean, Le Gardeur,and a number of wild associates, strove to drown all recollections ofthe past night at Beaumanoir by drinking and gambling with more thanusual violence until far on in the day.

  Bigot neither slept nor wished to sleep. The image of the murderedgirl lying in her rude grave was ever before him, with a vividness soterrible that it seemed he could never sleep again. His thoughts ranround and round like a mill-wheel, without advancing a step towards asolution of the mystery of her death.

  He summoned up his recollections of every man and woman he knew in theColony, and asked himself regarding each one, the question, "Is it hewho has done this? Is it she who has prompted it? And who could have hada motive, and who not, to perpetrate such a bloody deed?"

  One image came again and again before his mind's eye as he reviewed thelist of his friends and enemies. The figure of Angelique appeared andreappeared, intruding itself between every third or fourth personagewhich his memory called up, until his thoughts fixed upon her with themaddening inquiry, "Could Angelique des Meloises have been guilty ofthis terrible deed?"

  He remembered her passionate denunciation of the lady of Beaumanoir,her fierce demand for her banishment by a lettre de cachet. He knew herambition and recklessness, but still, versed as he was in all the waysof wickedness, and knowing the inexorable bitterness of envy, and thecruelty of jealousy in the female breast,--at least in such women as hehad for the most part had experience of,--Bigot could hardly admit thethought that one so fair as Angelique, one who held him in a golden netof fascination, and to whom he had been more than once on the point ofyielding, could have committed so great a crime.

  He struggled with his thoughts like a man amid tossing waves, gropingabout in the dark for a plank to float upon, but could find none. Still,in spite of himself, in spite of his violent asseverations that "it wasIMPOSSIBLE;" in spite of Cadet's plausible theory of robbers,--whichBigot at first seized upon as the likeliest explanation of themystery,--the thought of Angelique ever returned back upon him like afresh accusation.

  He could not accuse her yet, though something told him he might have todo so at last. He grew angry at the ever-recurring thought of her, andturning his face to the wall, like a man trying to shut out the light,resolved to force disbelief in her guilt until clearer testimony thanhis own suspicions should convict her of the death of Caroline. Andyet in his secret soul he dreaded a discovery that might turn out as hefeared. But he pushed the black thoughts aside; he would wait and watchfor what he feared to find.

  The fact of Caroline's concealment at Beaumanoir, and her murder at thevery moment when the search was about to be made for her, placed Bigotin the cruelest dilemma. Whatever his suspicions might be, he dared not,by word or sign, avow any knowledge of Caroline's presence, still lessof her mysterious murder, in his Chateau. Her grave had been dug; shehad been secretly buried out of human sight, and he was under bonds asfor his very life never to let the dreadful mystery be discovered.

  So Bigot lay on his couch, for once a weak and frightened man,registering vain vows of vengeance against persons unknown, vows whichhe knew at the moment were empty as bubbles, because he dared not movehand or foot in the matter to carry them out, or make open accusationagainst any one of the foul crime. What thoughts came to Bigot's subtlemind were best known to himself, but something was suggested by themocking devil who was never far from him, and he caught and held fastthe wicked suggestion with a bitter laugh. He then grew suddenly stilland said to himself, "I will sleep on it!" and pillowing his headquietly, not in sleep, but in thoughts deeper than sleep, he lay tillday.

  Angelique, who had never in her life swooned before, felt, when sheawoke, like one returning to life from death. She opened her eyeswondering where she was, and half remembering the things she hadheard as things she had seen, looked anxiously around the room forLa Corriveau. She rose up with a start when she saw she was gone, forAngelique recollected suddenly that La Corriveau now held the terriblesecret which concerned her life and peace for evermore.

  The thing she had so long wished for, and prayed for, was at last done!Her rival was out of the way! But she also felt that if the murder wasdiscovered her own life was forfeit to the law, and the secret was inthe keeping of the vilest of women.

  A mountain, not of remorse, but of apprehension, overwhelmed her fora time. But Angelique's mind was too intensely selfish, hard, andsuperficial, to give way to the remorse of a deeper nature.

  She was angry at her own cowardice, but she feared the suspicions ofBigot. There was ever something in his dark nature which she could notfathom, and deep and crafty as she knew herself to be, she feared thathe was more deep and more crafty than herself.

  What if he should discover her hand in this bloody business? The thoughtdrove her frantic, until she fancied she repented of the deed.

  Had it brought a certainty, this crime, then--why, then--she had founda compensation for the risk she was running, for the pain she wasenduring, which she tried to believe was regret and pity for her victim.Her anxiety redoubled when it occurred to her that Bigot, rememberingher passionate appeals to him for the removal of Caroline, might suspecther of the murder as the one alone having a palpable interest in it.

  "But Bigot shall never believe it even if he suspect it!" exclaimed sheat last, shaking off her fears. "I have made fools of many men for mypleasure, I can surely blind one for my safety; and, after all, whosefault is it but Bigot's? He would not grant me the lettre de cachet norkeep his promise for her removal. He even gave me her life! But he lied;he did not mean it. He loved her too well, and meant to deceive me andmarry her, and I have deceived him and shall marry him, that is all!"and Angelique laughed a hysterical laugh, such as Dives in his tormentsmay sometimes give way to.

  "La Corriveau has betrayed her trust in one terrible point," continuedshe, "she promised a death so easy that all men would say the lady ofBeaumanoir died of heartbreak only, or by God's visitation! A naturaldeath! The foul witch has used her stiletto and made a murder of thatwhich, without it, had been none! Bigot will know it, must know it evenif he dare not reveal it! for how in the name of all the saints is it tobe concealed?

  "But, my God! this will never do!" continued she, starting up, "I looklike very guilt!" She stared fiercely in the mirror at her hollow eyes,pale cheeks, and white lips. She scarcely recognized herself. Her bloomand brightness had vanished for the time.

  "What if I have inhaled some of the poisoned odor of those cursedroses?" thought she, shuddering at the supposition; but she reassuredherself that it could not be. "Still, my looks condemn me! The pale faceof that dead girl is looking at me out of mine! Bigot, if he sees me,will not fail to read the secret in my looks."

  She glanced at the clock: the mornin
g was far advanced towards noon;visitors might soon arrive, Bigot himself might come, she dare not denyherself to him. She would deny herself to no one to-day! She would goeverywhere and see everybody, and show the world, if talk of it shouldarise, that she was wholly innocent of that girl's blood.

  She would wear her brightest looks, her gayest robe, her hat andfeathers, the newest from Paris. She would ride out into the city,--goto the Cathedral,--show herself to all her friends, and make every onesay or think that Angelique des Meloises had not a care or trouble inthe world.

  She rang for Fanchon, impatient to commence her toilet, for when dressedshe knew that she would feel like herself once more, cool and defiant.The touch of her armor of fashionable attire would restore herconfidence in herself, and enable her to brave down any suspicion inthe mind of the Intendant,--at any rate it was her only resource, andAngelique was not one to give up even a lost battle, let alone one halfgained through the death of her rival.

  Fanchon came in haste at the summons of her mistress. She had longwaited to hear the bell, and began to fear she was sick or in one ofthose wild moods which had come over her occasionally since the night ofher last interview with Le Gardeur.

  The girl started at sight of the pale face and paler lips of hermistress. She uttered an exclamation of surprise, but Angelique,anticipating all questions, told her she was unwell, but would dress andtake a ride out in the fresh air and sunshine to recruit.

  "But had you not better see the physician, my Lady?--you do look so paleto-day, you are really not well!"

  "No, but I will ride out;" and she added in her old way, "perhaps,Fanchon, I may meet some one who will be better company than thephysician. Qui sait?" And she laughed with an appearance of gaietywhich she was far from feeling, and which only half imposed on thequick-witted maid who waited upon her.

  "Where is your aunt, Fanchon? When did you see Dame Dodier?" asked she,really anxious to learn what had become of La Corriveau.

  "She returned home this morning, my Lady! I had not seen her for daysbefore, but supposed she had already gone back to St. Valier,--but AuntDodier is a strange woman, and tells no one her business."

  "She has, perhaps, other lost jewels to look after besides mine,"replied Angelique mechanically, yet feeling easier upon learning thedeparture of La Corriveau.

  "Perhaps so, my Lady. I am glad she is gone home. I shall never wish tosee her again."

  "Why?" asked Angelique, sharply, wondering if Fanchon had conjecturedanything of her aunt's business.

  "They say she has dealings with that horrid Mere Malheur, and I believeit," replied Fanchon, with a shrug of disgust.

  "Ah! do you think Mere Malheur knows her business or any of your aunt'ssecrets, Fanchon?" asked Angelique, thoroughly roused.

  "I think she does, my Lady,--you cannot live in a chimney with anotherwithout both getting black alike, and Mere Malheur is a black witch assure as my aunt is a white one," was Fanchon's reply.

  "What said your aunt on leaving?" asked her mistress.

  "I did not see her leave, my Lady; I only learned from Ambroise Gariepythat she had crossed the river this morning to return to St. Valier."

  "And who is Ambroise Gariepy, Fanchon? You have a wide circle ofacquaintance for a young girl, I think!" Angelique knew the dangers ofgossiping too well not to fear Fanchon's imprudences.

  "Yes, my Lady," replied Fanchon with affected simplicity, "AmbroiseGariepy keeps the Lion Vert and the ferry upon the south shore; hebrings me news and sometimes a little present from the pack of theBasque pedlers,--he brought me this comb, my Lady!" Fanchon turned herhead to show her mistress a superb comb in her thick black hair, and inher delight of talking of Ambroise Gariepy, the little inn of the ferry,and the cross that leaned like a failing memory over the grave ofhis former wife, Fanchon quite forgot to ease her mind further on thesubject of La Corriveau, nor did Angelique resume the dangerous topic.

  Fanchon's easy, shallow way of talking of her lover touched asympathetic chord in the breast of her mistress. Grand passions weregrand follies in Angelique's estimation, which she was less capable ofappreciating than even her maid; but flirtation and coquetry, skin-deeponly, she could understand, and relished beyond all other enjoyments.It was just now like medicine to her racking thoughts to listen toFanchon's shallow gossip.

  She had done what she had done, she reflected, and it could not beundone! why should she give way to regret, and lose the prize for whichshe had staked so heavily? She would not do it! No, par Dieu! She hadthrown Le Gardeur to the fishes for the sake of the Intendant, and haddone that other deed! She shied off from the thought of it as from anuncouth thing in the dark, and began to feel shame of her weakness athaving fainted at the tale of La Corriveau.

  The light talk of Fanchon while dressing the long golden hair of hermistress and assisting her to put on a new riding-dress and the plumedhat fresh from Paris, which she had not yet displayed in public, didmuch to restore her equanimity.

  Her face had, however, not recovered from its strange pallor. Her eagermaid, anxious for the looks of her mistress, insisted on a little rouge,which Angelique's natural bloom had never before needed. She submitted,for she intended to look her best to-day, she said. "Who knows whom Ishall fall in with?"

  "That is right, my Lady," exclaimed Fanchon admiringly, "no one could bedressed perfectly as you are and be sick! I pity the gentleman you meetto-day, that is all! There is murder in your eye, my Lady!"

  Poor Fanchon believed she was only complimenting her mistress, and atother times her remark would only have called forth a joyous laugh; nowthe word seemed like a sharp knife: it cut, and Angelique did not laugh.She pushed her maid forcibly away from her, and was on the point ofbreaking out into some violent exclamation when, recalled by the amazedlook of Fanchon, she turned the subject adroitly, and asked, "Where ismy brother?"

  "Gone with the Chevalier de Pean to the Palace, my Lady!" repliedFanchon, trembling all over, and wondering how she had angered hermistress.

  "How know you that, Fanchon?" asked Angelique, recovering her usualcareless tone.

  "I overheard them speaking together, my Lady. The Chevalier de Pean saidthat the Intendant was sick, and would see no one this morning."

  "Yes, what then?" Angelique was struck with a sudden consciousness ofdanger in the wind. "Are you sure they said the Intendant was sick?"asked she.

  "Yes, my Lady! and the Chevalier de Pean said that he was less sick thanmad, and out of humor to a degree he had never seen him before!"

  "Did they give a reason for it? that is, for the Intendant's sickness ormadness?" Angelique's eyes were fixed keenly upon her maid, to draw outa full confession.

  "None, my Lady, only the Chevalier des Meloises said he supposed it wasthe news from France which sat so ill on his stomach."

  "And what then, Fanchon? you are so long of answering!" Angeliquestamped her foot with impatience.

  Fanchon looked up at the reproof so little merited, and replied quickly,"The Chevalier de Pean said it must be that, for he knew of nothingelse. The gentlemen then went out and I heard no more."

  Angelique was relieved by this turn of conversation. She felt certainthat if Bigot discovered the murder he would not fail to reveal it tothe Chevalier de Pean, who was understood to be the depository of allhis secrets. She began to cheer up under the belief that Bigot wouldnever dare accuse any one of a deed which would be the means ofproclaiming his own falseness and duplicity towards the King and theMarquise de Pompadour.

  "I have only to deny all knowledge of it," said she to herself, "swearto it if need be, and Bigot will not dare to go farther in the matter.Then will come my time to turn the tables upon him in a way he littleexpects! Pshaw!" continued she, glancing at her gay hat in the mirror,and with her own dainty fingers setting the feather more airily to herliking. "Bigot is bound fast enough to me now that she is gone! and whenhe discovers that I hold his secret he will not dare meddle with mine."

  Angelique, measurably reassured and hopeful
of success in her desperateventure, descended the steps of her mansion, and, gathering up her robesdaintily, mounted her horse, which had long been chafing in the hands ofher groom waiting for his mistress.

  She bade the man remain at home until her return, and dashed off downthe Rue St. Louis, drawing after her a hundred eyes of admiration andenvy.

  She would ride down to the Place d'Armes, she thought, where she knewthat before she had skirted the length of the Castle wall half a dozengallants would greet her with offers of escort, and drop any businessthey had in hand for the sake of a gallop by her side.

  She had scarcely passed the Monastery of the Recollets when she wasespied by the Sieur La Force, who, too, was as quickly discovered byher, as he loitered at the corner of the Rue St. Ann, to catch sightof any fair piece of mischief that might be abroad that day from herclasses in the Convent of the Ursulines.

  "Angelique is as fair a prize as any of them," thought La Force, ashe saluted her with Parisian politeness, and with a request to be herescort in her ride through the city.

  "My horse is at hand, and I shall esteem it such an honor," said LaForce, smiling, "and such a profit too," added he; "my credit is low ina certain quarter, you know where!" and he laughingly pointed towardsthe Convent. "I desire to make HER jealous, for she has made me madlyso, and no one can aid in an enterprise of that kind better thanyourself, Mademoiselle des Meloises!"

  "Or more willingly, Sieur La Force!" replied she, laughing. "But youoverrate my powers, I fear."

  "Oh, by no means," replied La Force; "there is not a lady in Quebec butfeels in her heart that Angelique des Meloises can steal away her loverwhen and where she will. She has only to look at him across the street,and presto, change! he is gone from her as if by magic. But will youreally help me, Mademoiselle?"

  "Most willingly, Sieur La Force,--for your profit if not for your honor!I am just in the humor for tormenting somebody this morning; so get yourhorse and let us be off!"

  Before La Force had mounted his horse, a number of gaily-dressed youngladies came in sight, in full sail down the Rue St. Ann, like a fleet ofrakish little yachts, bearing down upon Angelique and her companion.

  "Shall we wait for them, La Force?" asked she. "They are from theConvent!"

  "Yes, and SHE is there too! The news will be all over the city in anhour that I am riding with you!" exclaimed La Force in a tone of intensesatisfaction.

  Five girls just verging on womanhood, perfect in manner andappearance--as the Ursulines knew well how to train the youngolive-plants of the Colony,--walked on demurely enough, lookingapparently straight forward, but casting side glances from under theirveils which raked the Sieur La Force and Angelique with a searchingfire that nothing could withstand, La Force said; but which Angeliqueremarked was simply "impudence, such as could only be found in Conventgirls!"

  They came nearer. Angelique might have supposed they were going to passby them had she not known too well their sly ways. The foremost ofthe five, Louise Roy, whose glorious hair was the boast of the city,suddenly threw back her veil, and disclosing a charming face, dimpledwith smiles and with a thousand mischiefs lurking in her bright grayeyes, sprang towards Angelique, while her companions--all Louises of thefamous class of that name--also threw up their veils, and stood salutingAngelique and La Force with infinite merriment.

  Louise Roy, quizzing La Force through a coquettish eyeglass which shewore on a ribbon round her pretty neck, as if she had never seen himbefore, motioned to him in a queenly way as she raised her dainty foot,giving him a severe look, or what tried to be such but was in truth anabsurd failure.

  He instantly comprehended her command, for such it was, and held outhis hand, upon which she stepped lightly, and sprang up to Angelique,embracing and kissing her with such cordiality that, if it were notreal, the acting was perfect. At the same time Louise Roy made herunderstand that she was not the only one who could avail herself of thegallant attentions of the Sieur La Force.

  In truth Louise Roy was somewhat piqued at the Sieur La Force, and topunish him made herself as heavy as her slight figure would admit of.She stood perched up as long as she could, and actually enjoyed thetremor which she felt plainly enough in his hand as he continued tosupport her, and was quite disposed to test how long he could or wouldhold her up, while she conversed in whispers with Angelique.

  "Angelique!" said she. "They say in the Convent that you are to marrythe Intendant. Your old mistress, Mere St. Louis, is crazy with delight.She says she always predicted you would make a great match."

  "Or none at all, as Mere St. Helene used to say of me; but they knoweverything in the Convent, do they not?" Angelique pinched the arm ofLouise, as much as to say, "Of course it is true." "But who told youthat, Louise?" asked she.

  "Oh, every bird that flies! But tell me one thing more. They say theIntendant is a Bluebeard, who has had wives without number,--nobodyknows how many or what became of them, so of course he kills them. Isthat true?"

  Angelique shrank a little, and little as it was the movement was noticedby Louise. "If nobody knows what became of them, how should I know,Louise?" replied she. "He does not look like a Bluebeard, does he?"

  "So says Mere St. Joseph, who came from the Convent at Bordeaux, youknow, for she never tires telling us. She declares that the ChevalierBigot was never married at all, and she ought to know that surely,as well as she knows her beads, for coming from the same city as theIntendant, and knowing his family as she does--"

  "Well, Louise," interrupted Angelique impatiently, "but do you not seethe Sieur La Force is getting tired of holding you up so long with hishand? For heaven's sake, get down!"

  "I want to punish him for going with you, and not waiting for me," wasthe cool whisper of Louise. "But you will ask me, Angelique, to thewedding, will you not? If you do not," continued she, "I shall die!"and delaying her descent as long as possible, she commenced a new topicconcerning the hat worn by Angelique.

  "Mischief that you are, get down! The Sieur La Force is my cavalier forthe day, and you shall not impose on his gallantry that way! He is readyto drop," whispered Angelique.

  "One word more, Angelique." Louise was delighted to feel the hand of LaForce tremble more and more under her foot.

  "No, not a word! Get down!"

  "Kiss me then, and good-by, cross thing that you are! Do not keep himall day, or all the class besides myself will be jealous," repliedLouise, not offering to get down.

  Angelique had no mind to allow her cavalier to be made a horse-blockof for anybody but herself. She jerked the bridle, and making her horsesuddenly pirouette, compelled Louise to jump down. The mischievouslittle fairy turned her bright laughing eyes full upon La Force andthanked him for his great courtesy, and with a significant gesture--asmuch as to say he was at liberty now to escort Angelique, having donepenance for the same--rejoined her expectant companions, who had laughedheartily at her manoeuvre.

  "She paints!" was Louise's emphatic whisper to her companions, loudenough to be heard by La Force, for whom the remark was partly intended."She paints! and I saw in her eyes that she has not slept all night! Sheis in love! and I do believe it is true she is to marry the Intendant!"

  This was delicious news to the class of Louises, who laughed out like achime of silver bells as they mischievously bade La Force and Angeliquebon voyage, and passed down the Place d'Armes in search of freshadventures to fill their budgets of fun--budgets which, on their returnto the Convent, they would open under the very noses of the good nuns(who were not so blind as they seemed, however), and regale all theircompanions with a spicy treat, in response to the universal questionever put to all who had been out in the city, "What is the news?"

  La Force, compliant as wax to every caprice of Angelique, was secretlyfuming at the trick played upon him by the Mischief of the Convent,--ashe called Louise Roy,--for which he resolved to be revenged, even if hehad to marry her. He and Angelique rode down the busy streets, receivingsalutations on every hand. In the great square of the ma
rket-placeAngelique pulled up in front of the Cathedral.

  Why she stopped there would have puzzled herself to explain. It was notto worship, not to repent of her heinous sin: she neither repented nordesired to repent. But it seemed pleasant to play at repentance and puton imaginary sackcloth.

  Angelique's brief contact with the fresh, sunny nature of Louise Roy hadsensibly raised her spirits. It lifted the cloud from her brow, andmade her feel more like her former self. The story, told half in jestby Louise, that she was to marry the Intendant, flattered her vanityand raised her hopes to the utmost. She liked the city to talk of her inconnection with the Intendant.

  The image of Beaumanoir grew fainter and fainter as she knelt down uponthe floor, not to ask pardon for her sin, but to pray for immunity forherself and the speedy realization of the great object of her ambitionand her crime!

  The pealing of the organ, rising and falling in waves of harmony,the chanting of choristers, and the voice of the celebrant during theservice in honor of St. Michael and all the angels, touched her sensuousnature, but failed to touch her conscience.

  A crowd of worshippers were kneeling upon the floor of the Cathedral,unobstructed in those days by seats and pews, except on one side, whererose the stately bancs of the Governor and the Intendant, on either sideof which stood a sentry with ported arms, and overhead upon the wallblazed the royal escutcheons of France.

  Angelique, whose eyes roved incessantly about the church, turned themoften towards the gorgeous banc of the Intendant, and the thoughtintruded itself to the exclusion of her prayers, "When shall I sitthere, with all these proud ladies forgetting their devotions throughenvy of my good fortune?"

  Bigot did not appear in his place at church to-day. He was tooprofoundly agitated and sick, and lay on his bed till evening, revolvingin his astute mind schemes of vengeance possible and impossible, to becarried out should his suspicions of Angelique become certainties ofknowledge and fact. His own safety was at stake. The thought that hehad been outwitted by the beautiful, designing, heartless girl, thereflection that he dare not turn to the right hand nor to the left toinquire into this horrid assassination, which, if discovered, would belaid wholly to his own charge, drove him to the verge of distraction.

  The Governor and his friend Peter Kalm occupied the royal banc. Lutheranas he was, Peter Kalm was too philosophical and perhaps too faithful afollower of Christ to consider religion as a matter of mere opinion orof form rather than of humble dependence upon God, the Father of all,with faith in Christ and the conscientious striving to love God and hisneighbor.

  A short distance from Angelique, two ladies in long black robes, andevidently of rank, were kneeling with downcast faces, and hands claspedover their bosoms, in a devout attitude of prayer and supplication.

  Angelique's keen eye, which nothing escaped, needed not a second glanceto recognize the unmistakable grace of Amelie de Repentigny and thenobility of the Lady de Tilly.

  She started at sight of these relatives of Le Gardeur's, but did notwonder at their presence, for she already knew that they had returned tothe city immediately after the abduction of Le Gardeur by the Chevalierde Pean.

  Startled, frightened, and despairing, with aching hearts but unimpairedlove, Amelie and the Lady de Tilly had followed Le Gardeur andreoccupied their stately house in the city, resolved to leave no meansuntried, no friends unsolicited, no prayers unuttered to rescue him fromthe gulf of perdition into which he had again so madly plunged.

  Within an hour after her return, Amelie, accompanied by PierrePhilibert, had gone to the Palace to seek an interview with her brother.They were rudely denied. "He was playing a game of piquet for thechampionship of the Palace with the Chevalier de Pean, and couldnot come if St. Peter, let alone Pierre Philibert, stood at the gateknocking!"

  This reply had passed through the impure lips of the Sieur de Lantagnacbefore it reached Amelie and Pierre. They did not believe it came fromtheir brother. They left the Palace with heavy hearts, after longand vainly seeking an interview, Philibert resolving to appeal to theIntendant himself and call him to account at the sword's point, if needbe, for the evident plot in the Palace to detain Le Gardeur from hisfriends.

  Amelie, dreading some such resolution on the part of Pierre, went backnext day alone to the Palace to try once more to see Le Gardeur.

  She was agitated and in tears at the fate of her brother. She wasanxious over the evident danger which Pierre seemed to court, for hissake and--she would not hide the truth from herself--for her own saketoo; and yet she would not forbid him. She felt her own noble bloodstirred within her to the point that she wished herself a man to be ableto walk sword in hand into the Palace and confront the herd of revellerswho she believed had plotted the ruin of her brother.

  She was proud of Pierre, while she trembled at the resolution whichshe read in his countenance of demanding as a soldier, and not as asuppliant, the restoration of Le Gardeur to his family.

  Amelie's second visit to the Palace had been as fruitless as her first.She was denied admittance, with the profoundest regrets on the part ofDe Pean, who met her at the door and strove to exculpate himself fromthe accusation of having persuaded Le Gardeur to depart from Tilly, andof keeping him in the Palace against the prayers of his friends.

  De Pean remembered his presumption as well as his rejection by Amelie atTilly, and while his tongue ran smooth as oil in polite regrets that LeGardeur had resolved not to see his sister to-day, her evident distressfilled him with joy, which he rolled under his tongue as the mostdelicate morsel of revenge he had ever tasted.

  Bowing with well-affected politeness, De Pean attended her to hercarriage, and having seen her depart in tears, returned laughing intothe Palace, remarking, as he mimicked the weeping countenance of Amelie,that "the Honnetes Gens had learned it was a serious matter to cometo the burial of the virtues of a young gentleman like Le Gardeur deRepentigny."

  On her return home Amelie threw herself on the neck of her aunt,repeating in broken accents, "My poor Le Gardeur! my brother! He refusesto see me, aunt! He is lost and ruined in that den of all iniquity andfalsehood!"

  "Be composed, Amelie," replied the Lady de Tilly; "I know it is hard tobear, but perhaps Le Gardeur did not send that message to you. Themen about him are capable of deceiving you to an extent you have noconception of,--you who know so little of the world's baseness."

  "O aunt, it is true! He sent me this dreadful thing; I took it, for itbears the handwriting of my brother."

  She held in her hand a card, one of a pack. It was the death-card ofsuperstitious lookers into futurity. Had he selected it because it borethat reputation, or was it by chance?

  On the back of it he had written, or scrawled in a trembling hand, yetplainly, the words: "Return home, Amelie. I will not see you. I havelost the game of life and won the card you see. Return home, dearsister, and forget your unworthy and ruined brother, Le Gardeur."

  Lady de Tilly took the card, and read and re-read it, trying to find ameaning it did not contain, and trying not to find the sad meaning itdid contain.

  She comforted Amelie as best she could, while needing strength herselfto bear the bitter cross laid upon them both, in the sudden blighting ofthat noble life of which they had been so proud.

  She took Amelie in her arms, mingling her own tears with hers, andbidding her not despair. "A sister's love," said she, "never forgets,never wearies, never despairs." They had friends too powerful to bewithstood, even by Bigot, and the Intendant would be compelled to loosenhis hold upon Le Gardeur. She would rely upon the inherent nobleness ofthe nature of Le Gardeur himself to wash itself pure of all stain, couldthey only withdraw him from the seductions of the Palace. "We will winhim from them by counter charms, Amelie, and it will be seen that virtueis stronger than vice to conquer at last the heart of Le Gardeur."

  "Alas, aunt!" replied the poor girl, her eyes suffused with tears,"neither friend nor foe will avail to turn him from the way he hasresolved to go. He is desperate, and rushes wit
h open eyes upon hisruin. We know the reason of it all. There is but one who could havesaved Le Gardeur if she would. She is utterly unworthy of my brother,but I feel now it were better Le Gardeur had married even her than thathe should be utterly lost to himself and us all. I will see Angeliquedes Meloises myself. It was her summons brought him back to the city.She alone can withdraw him from the vile companionship of Bigot and hisassociates at the Palace."

  Angelique had been duly informed of the return of Amelie to the city,and of her fruitless visits to the Palace to see her brother.

  It was no pleasure, but a source of angry disappointment to Angeliquethat Le Gardeur, in despair of making her his wife, refused to devotehimself to her as her lover. He was running wild to destruction, insteadof letting her win the husband she aspired to, and retain at the sametime the gallant she loved and was not willing to forego.

  She had seen him at the first sober moment after his return from Tilly,in obedience to her summons. She had permitted him to pour out again hispassion at her feet. She had yielded to his kisses when he claimed herheart and hand, and had not refused to own the mutual flame that coveredher cheek with a blush at her own falseness. But driven to the wallby his impetuosity, she had at last killed his reviving hopes by herrepetition of the fatal words, "I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will notmarry you!"

  Angelique was seized with a sudden impulse to withdraw from the presenceof Amelie in the Cathedral before being discovered by her. She washalf afraid that her former school companion would speak to her on thesubject of Le Gardeur. She could not brazen it out with Amelie, who knewher too well, and if she could, she would gladly avoid the angry flashof those dark, pure eyes.

  The organ was pealing the last notes of the Doxology, and the voices ofthe choristers seemed to reecho from the depths of eternity the words,"in saecula saeculorum," when Angelique rose up suddenly to leave thechurch.

  Her irreverent haste caused those about her to turn their heads at theslight confusion she made, Amelie among the rest, who recognized at oncethe countenance of Angelique, somewhat flushed and irritated, as shestrove vainly, with the help of La Force, to get out of the throng ofkneeling people who covered the broad floor of the Cathedral.

  Amelie deemed it a fortunate chance to meet Angelique soopportunely--just when her desire to do so was strongest. She caught hereye, and made her a quick sign to stay, and approaching her, seized herhands in her old, affectionate way.

  "Wait a few moments, Angelique," said she, "until the people depart. Iwant to speak to you alone. I am so fortunate to find you here."

  "I will see you outside, Amelie. The Sieur La Force is with me, andcannot stay." Angelique dreaded an interview with Amelie.

  "No, I will speak to you here. It will be better here in God's templethan elsewhere. The Sieur La Force will wait for you if you ask him; orshall I ask him?" A faint smile accompanied these words of Amelie, whichshe partly addressed to La Force.

  La Force, to Angelique's chagrin, understanding that Amelie desired himto wait for Angelique outside, at once offered to do so.

  "Or perhaps," continued Amelie, offering her hand, "the Sieur La Force,whom I am glad to see, will have the politeness to accompany the Lady deTilly, while I speak to Mademoiselle des Meloises?"

  La Force was all compliance. "He was quite at the service of theladies," he said politely, "and would esteem it an honor to accompanythe noble Lady de Tilly."

  The Lady de Tilly at once saw through the design of her niece. Sheacceded to the arrangement, and left the Cathedral in company with theSieur La Force, whom she knew as the son of an old and valued friend.

  He accompanied her home, while Amelie, holding fast to the arm ofAngelique until the church was empty of all but a few scattered devoteesand penitents, led her into a side chapel, separated from the body ofthe church by a screen of carved work of oak, wherein stood a smallaltar and a reliquary with a picture of St. Paul.

  The seclusion of this place commended itself to the feelings of Amelie.She made Angelique kneel down by her side before the altar. Afterbreathing a short, silent prayer for help and guidance, she seized hercompanion by both hands and besought her "in God's name to tell herwhat she had done to Le Gardeur, who was ruining himself, both soul andbody."

  Angelique, hardy as she was, could ill bear the searching gaze of thosepure eyes. She quailed under them for a moment, afraid that the questionmight have some reference to Beaumanoir, but reassured by the words ofAmelie, that her interview had relation to Le Gardeur only, she replied:"I have done nothing to make Le Gardeur ruin himself, soul or body,Amelie. Nor do I believe he is doing so. Our old convent notions aretoo narrow to take out with us into the world. You judge Le Gardeur toorigidly, Amelie."

  "Would that were my fault, Angelique!" replied she earnestly, "but myheart tells me he is lost unless those who led him astray remit himagain into the path of virtue whence they seduced him."

  Angelique winced, for she took the allusion to herself, although inthe mind of Amelie it referred more to the Intendant. "Le Gardeur is noweakling to be led astray," replied she. "He is a strong man, to leadothers, not to be led, as I know better than even his sister."

  Amelie looked up inquiringly, but Angelique did not pursue the thoughtnor explain the meaning of her words.

  "Le Gardeur," continued Angelique, "is not worse, nay, with all hisfaults, is far better than most young gallants, who have the laudableambition to make a figure in the world, such as women admire. One cannothope to find men saints, and we women to be such sinners. Saints wouldbe dull companions. I prefer mere men, Amelie!"

  "For shame, Angelique! to say such things before the sacred shrine,"exclaimed Amelie, indignantly stopping her. "What wonder that men arewicked, when women tempt them to be so! Le Gardeur was like none of thegallants you compare him with! He loved virtue and hated vice, and aboveall things he despised the companionship of such men as now detain himat the Palace. You first took him from me, Angelique! I ask you now togive him back to me. Give me back my brother, Angelique des Meloises!"Amelie grasped her by the arm in the earnestness of her appeal.

  "I took him from you?" exclaimed Angelique hotly. "It is untrue! Forgivemy saying so, Amelie! I took him no more than did Heloise de Lotbiniereor Cecile Tourangeau! Will you hear the truth? He fell in love with me,and I had not the heart to repulse him,--nay, I could not, for I willconfess to you, Amelie, as I often avowed to you in the Convent, I lovedLe Gardeur the best of all my admirers! And by this blessed shrine,"continued she, laying her hand upon it, "I do still! If he be, as somesay he is, going too fast for his own good or yours or mine, I regret itwith my whole heart; I regret it as you do! Can I say more?"

  Angelique was sincere in this. Her words sounded honest, and she spokewith a real warmth in her bosom, such as she had not felt in a longtime.

  Her words impressed Amelie favorably.

  "I think you speak truly, Angelique," replied she, "when you say youregret Le Gardeur's relapse into the evil ways of the Palace. No onethat ever knew my noble brother could do other than regret it. But oh,Angelique, why, with all your influence over him did you not prevent it?Why do you not rescue him now? A word from you would have been of moreavail than the pleading of all the world beside!"

  "Amelie, you try me hard," said Angelique, uneasily, conscious ofthe truth of Amelie's words, "but I can bear much for the sake of LeGardeur! Be assured that I have no power to influence his conduct in theway of amendment, except upon impossible conditions! I have tried, andmy efforts have been vain as your own!"

  "Conditions!" replied Amelie, "what conditions?--but I need not ask you!He told me in his hour of agony of your inexplicable dealing with him,and yet not so inexplicable now! Why did you profess to love my brother,leading him on and on to an offer of his hand, and then cruelly rejecthim, adding one more to the list of your heartless triumphs? Le Gardeurde Repentigny was too good for such a fate from any woman, Angelique!"Amelie's eyes swam in tears of indignation as she said this.

  "He was too g
ood for me!" said Angelique, dropping her eyes. "I willacknowledge that, if it will do you any good, Amelie! But can you notbelieve that there was a sacrifice on my part, as well as on his oryours?"

  "I judge not between you, Angelique! or between the many chances wastedon you; but I say this Angelique des Meloises, you wickedly stole theheart of the noblest brother in New France, to trample it under yourfeet!"

  "'Fore God, I did not, Amelie!" she replied indignantly. "I loved and dolove Le Gardeur de Repentigny, but I never plighted my troth to him, Inever deceived him! I told him I loved him, but I could not marry him!And by this sacred cross," said she, placing her hands upon it, "it istrue! I never trampled upon the heart of Le Gardeur; I could kiss hishands, his feet, with true affection as ever loving woman gave to man;but my duty, my troth, my fate, were in the hands of another!"

  Angelique felt a degree of pleasure in the confession to Amelie of herlove for her brother. It was the next thing to confessing it to himself,which had been once the joy of her life, but it changed not one jot herdetermination to wed only the Intendant, unless--yes, her busy mind hadto-day called up a thousand possible and impossible contingencies thatmight spring up out of the unexpected use of the stiletto by Corriveau.What if the Intendant, suspecting her complicity in the murder ofCaroline, should refuse to marry her? Were it not well in that desperatecase to have Le Gardeur to fall back upon?

  Amelie watched nervously the changing countenance of Angelique. Sheknew it was a beautiful mask covering impenetrable deceit, and that noprinciple of right kept her from wrong when wrong was either pleasant orprofitable.

  The conviction came upon Amelie like a flash of inspiration that shewas wrong in seeking to save Le Gardeur by seconding his wild offerof marriage to Angelique. A union with this false and capricious womanwould only make his ruin more complete and his latter end worse than thefirst. She would not urge it, she thought.

  "Angelique," said she, "if you love Le Gardeur, you will not refuse yourhelp to rescue him from the Palace. You cannot wish to see him degradedas a gentleman because he has been rejected by you as a lover."

  "Who says I wish to see him degraded as a gentleman? and I did notreject him as a lover! not finally--that is, I did not wholly meanit. When I sent to invite his return from Tilly it was out offriendship,--love, if you will, Amelie, but from no desire that heshould plunge into fresh dissipation."

  "I believe you, Angelique! You could not, if you had the heart ofa woman loving him ever so little, desire to see him fall into theclutches of men who, with the wine-cup in one hand and the dice-box inthe other, will never rest until they ruin him, body, soul, and estate."

  "Before God, I never desired it, and to prove it, I have cursed De Peanto his face, and erased Lantagnac from my list of friends, for comingto show me the money he had won from Le Gardeur while intoxicated.Lantagnac brought me a set of pearls which he had purchased out of hiswinnings. I threw them into the fire and would have thrown him afterthem, had I been a man! 'fore God, I would, Amelie! I may have woundedLe Gardeur, but no other man or woman shall injure him with my consent."

  Angelique spoke this in a tone of sincerity that touched somewhat theheart of Amelie, although the aberrations and inconsistencies of thisstrange girl perplexed her to the utmost to understand what she reallyfelt.

  "I think I may trust you, Angelique, to help me to rescue him fromassociation with the Palace?" said Amelie, gently, almost submissively,as if she half feared a refusal.

  "I desire nothing more," replied Angelique. "You have little faith inme, I see that,"--Angelique wiped her eyes, in which a shade of moisturecould be seen,--"but I am sincere in my friendship for Le Gardeur. TheVirgin be my witness, I never wished his injury, even when I injured himmost. He sought me in marriage, and I was bound to another."

  "You are to marry the Intendant, they say. I do not wonder, and yet I dowonder, at your refusing my brother, even for him."

  "Marry the Intendant! Yes, it is what fools and some wise people say. Inever said it myself, Amelie."

  "But you mean it, nevertheless; and for no other would you have thrownover Le Gardeur de Repentigny."

  "I did not throw him over," she answered, indignantly. "But why dispute?I cannot, Amelie, say more, even to you! I am distraught with cares andanxieties, and know not which way to turn."

  "Turn here, where I turn in my troubles, Angelique!" replied Amelie,moving closer to the altar. "Let us pray for Le Gardeur." Angeliqueobeyed mechanically, and the two girls prayed silently for a fewmoments, but how differently in spirit and feeling! The one prayed forher brother,--the other tried to pray, but it was more for herself, forsafety in her crime and success in her deep-laid scheming. A prayer forLe Gardeur mingled with Angelique's devotions, giving them a color ofvirtue. Her desire for his welfare was sincere enough, and she thoughtit disinterested of herself to pray for him.

  Suddenly Angelique started up as if stung by a wasp. "I must take leaveof you, my Amelie," said she; "I am glad I met you here. I trust youunderstand me now, and will rely on my being as a sister to Le Gardeur,to do what I can to restore him perfect to you and the good Lady deTilly."

  Amelie was touched. She embraced Angelique and kissed her; yet so coldand impassive she felt her to be, a shiver ran through her as she didso. It was as if she had touched the dead, and she long afterwardsthought of it. There was a mystery in this strange girl that Ameliecould not fathom nor guess the meaning of. They left the Cathedraltogether. It was now quite empty, save of a lingering penitent or twokneeling at the shrines. Angelique and Amelie parted at the door, theone eastward, the other westward, and, carried away by the divergentcurrents of their lives, they never met again.