the secret of Caroline and of the Baron de St. Castin; what if she clear
herself by accusing you? The King would put you in the Bastile for the
magnificent lie you told the Governor, and La Pompadour would send you
to the Place de Greve when the Baron de St. Castin returned with the
bones of his daughter, dug up in your Chateau!"

"It is a cursed dilemma!" Bigot fairly writhed with perplexity. "Dark
as the bottomless pit, turn which way we will. Angelique knows too much,
that is clear; it were a charity, if it were a safe thing, to kill her
too, Cadet!"

"Not to be thought of, Bigot; she is too much in every man's eye, and
cannot be stowed away in a secret corner like her poor victim. A dead
silence on every point of this cursed business is our only policy, our
only safety." Cadet had plenty of common sense in the rough, and Bigot
was able to appreciate it.

The Intendant strode up and down the room, clenching his hands in a
fury. "If I were sure! sure! she did it, I would kill her, by God! such
a damnable cruel deed as this would justify any measure of vengeance!"
exclaimed he, savagely.

"Pshaw! not when it would all rebound upon yourself. Besides, if you
want vengeance, take a man's revenge upon a woman; you can do that!
It will be better than killing her, much more pleasant, and quite as
effectual."

Bigot looked as Cadet said this and laughed: "You would send her to the
Parc aux cerfs, eh, Cadet? Par Dieu! she would sit on the throne in six
months!"

"No, I do not mean the Parc aux cerfs, but the Chateau of Beaumanoir.
But you are in too ill humor to joke to-day, Bigot." Cadet resumed his
pipe with an air of nonchalance.

"I never was in a worse humor in my life, Cadet! I feel that I have a
padlock upon every one of my five senses; and I cannot move hand or foot
in this business."

"Right, Bigot, do not move hand or foot, eye or tongue, in it. I tell
you the slightest whisper of Caroline's life or death in your house,
reaching the ears of Philibert or La Corne St. Luc, will bring them to
Beaumanoir with warrants to search for her. They will pick the Chateau
to pieces stone by stone. They will drag Caroline out of her grave, and
the whole country will swear you murdered her, and that I helped you,
and with appearances so strong against us that the mothers who bore us
would not believe in our innocence! Damn the women! The burying of that
girl was the best deed I did for one of the sex in my life, but it