augh as he caught hold of her quivering hand, which
she plucked passionately away from him.

The eyes of Angelique looked dangerous and full of mischief, but Bigot
was not afraid or offended. In truth, her jealousy flattered him,
applying it wholly to himself. He was, moreover, a connoisseur in female
temper: he liked to see the storm of jealous rage, to watch the rising
of its black clouds, to witness the lightning and the thunder, the gusts
and whirlwinds of passion, followed by the rain of angry tears, when the
tears were on his account. He thought he had never seen so beautiful a
fury as Angelique was at that moment.

Her pointed epithet, "You lie!" which would have been death for a man
to utter, made no dint on the polished armor of Bigot, although he inly
resolved that she should pay a woman's penalty for it.

He had heard that word from other pretty lips before, but it left no
mark upon a conscience that was one stain, upon a life that was one
fraud. Still his bold spirit rather liked this bold utterance from an
angry woman, when it was in his power by a word to change her rage into
the tender cooing of a dove.

Bigot was by nature a hunter of women, and preferred the excitement of a
hard chase, when the deer turns at bay and its capture gave him a trophy
to be proud of, to the dull conquest of a tame and easy virtue, such as
were most of those which had fallen in his way.

"Angelique!" said he, "this is perfect madness; what means this burst of
anger? Do you doubt the sincerity of my love for you?"

"I do, Bigot! I doubt it, and I deny it. So long as you keep a mistress
concealed at Beaumanoir, your pledge to me is false and your love an
insult."

"You are too impetuous and too imperious, Angelique! I have promised you
she shall be removed from Beaumanoir, and she shall--"

"Whither, and when?"

"To the city, and in a few days: she can live there in quiet seclusion.
I cannot be cruel to her, Angelique."

"But you can be cruel to me, Bigot, and will be, unless you exercise the
power which I know is placed in your hands by the King himself."

"What is that? to confiscate her lands and goods if she had any?"

"No, to confiscate her person! Issue a lettre de cachet and send her
over sea to the Bastile."

Bigot was irritated at this suggestion, and his irritation was narrowly
watched by Angelique.

"I would rather go to the Bastile myself!" exclaimed he; "besides, the
King alone issues lettres de cac