r knows her business or any of your aunt's
secrets, Fanchon?" asked Angelique, thoroughly roused.

"I think she does, my Lady,--you cannot live in a chimney with another
without both getting black alike, and Mere Malheur is a black witch as
sure 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 Gariepy
that she had crossed the river this morning to return to St. Valier."

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

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

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

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

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