t and
feathers, the newest from Paris. She would ride out into the city,--go
to the Cathedral,--show herself to all her friends, and make every one
say or think that Angelique des Meloises had not a care or trouble in
the world.

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

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

The girl started at sight of the pale face and paler lips of her
mistress. She uttered an exclamation of surprise, but Angelique,
anticipating all questions, told her she was unwell, but would dress and
take 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 pale
to-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 the
physician. Qui sait?" And she laughed with an appearance of gaiety
which she was far from feeling, and which only half imposed on the
quick-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 days
before, but supposed she had already gone back to St. Valier,--but Aunt
Dodier 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 the
departure of La Corriveau.

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

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

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

"Ah! do you think Mere Malheu