never plighted my troth to him, I
never 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 is
true! I never trampled upon the heart of Le Gardeur; I could kiss his
hands, 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 her
love 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 her
determination to wed only the Intendant, unless--yes, her busy mind had
to-day called up a thousand possible and impossible contingencies that
might spring up out of the unexpected use of the stiletto by Corriveau.
What if the Intendant, suspecting her complicity in the murder of
Caroline, should refuse to marry her? Were it not well in that desperate
case to have Le Gardeur to fall back upon?

Amelie watched nervously the changing countenance of Angelique. She
knew it was a beautiful mask covering impenetrable deceit, and that no
principle of right kept her from wrong when wrong was either pleasant or
profitable.

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

"Angelique," said she, "if you love Le Gardeur, you will not refuse your
help to rescue him from the Palace. You cannot wish to see him degraded
as 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 not
reject him as a lover! not finally--that is, I did not wholly mean
it. When I sent to invite his return from Tilly it was out of
friendship,--love, if you will, Amelie, but from no desire that he
should plunge into fresh dissipation."

"I believe you, Angelique! You could not, if you had the heart of
a woman loving him ever so little, desire to see him fall into the
clutches of men who, with the wine-cup in one hand and the dice-box in
the 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 Pean
to his face, and erased Lantagnac from my list