HE DANCE."

Bigot, a voluptuary in every sense, craved a change of pleasure. He was
never satisfied long with one, however pungent. He felt it as a relief
when Angelique went off like a laughing sprite upon the arm of De Pean.
"I am glad to get rid of the women sometimes, and feel like a man,"
he said to Cadet, who sat drinking and telling stories with hilarious
laughter to two or three boon companions, and indulging in the coarsest
jests and broadest scandal about the ladies at the ball, as they passed
by the alcove where they were seated.

The eager persistence of Angelique, in her demand for a lettre de cachet
to banish the unfortunate Caroline, had wearied and somewhat disgusted
Bigot.

"I would cut the throat of any man in the world for the sake of her
bright eyes," said he to himself, as she gave him a parting salute with
her handkerchief; "but she must not ask me to hurt that poor foolish
girl at Beaumanoir. No, by St. Picot! she is hurt enough already, and I
will not have Angelique tormenting her! What merciless creatures women
are to one another, Cadet!" said he, aloud.

Cadet looked up with red, inflamed eyes at the remark of Bigot. He cared
nothing for women himself, and never hesitated to show his contempt for
the whole sex.

"Merciless creatures, do you call them, Bigot! the claws of all the cats
in Caen could not match the finger-nails of a jealous woman--still less
her biting tongue."

Angelique des Meloises swept past the two in a storm of music, as if in
defiance of their sage criticisms. Her hand rested on the shoulder of
the Chevalier de Pean. She had an object which made her endure it,
and her dissimulation was perfect. Her eyes transfixed his with their
dazzling look. Her lips were wreathed in smiles; she talked continually
as she danced, and with an inconsistency which did not seem strange
in her, was lamenting the absence from the ball of Le Gardeur de
Repentigny.

"Chevalier," said she, in reply to some gallantry of her partner,
"most women take pride in making sacrifices of themselves; I prefer to
sacrifice my admirers. I like a man, not in the measure of what I do for
him, but what he will do for me. Is not that a candid avowal, Chevalier?
You like frankness, you know."

Frankness and the Chevalier de Pean were unknown quantities together;
but he was desperately smitten, and would bear any amount of snubbing
from Angelique.

"You have something in your mind you wish me to do," rep