he last, Mademoiselle?"

"You will certainly be the last, De Pean; I promise that." Angelique
laughed provokingly. She saw the eye of the Intendant watching her. She
began to think he remained longer in the society of Cadet than was due
to herself.

"Thanks, Mademoiselle," said De Pean, hardly knowing whether her laugh
was affirmative or negative; "but I envy Le Gardeur his precedence."

Angelique's love for Le Gardeur was the only key which ever unlocked her
real feelings. When the fox praised the raven's voice and prevailed on
her to sing, he did not more surely make her drop the envied morsel out
of her mouth than did Angelique drop the mystification she had worn so
coquettishly before De Pean.

"Tell me, De Pean," said she, "is it true or not that Le Gardeur de
Repentigny is consoling himself among the woods of Tilly with a fair
cousin of his, Heloise de Lotbiniere?"

De Pean had his revenge, and he took it. "It is true; and no wonder,"
said he. "They say Heloise is, without exception, the sweetest girl in
New France, if not one of the handsomest."

"Without exception!" echoed she, scornfully. "The women will not believe
that, at any rate, Chevalier. I do not believe it, for one." And she
laughed in the consciousness of beauty. "Do you believe it?"

"No, that were impossible," replied he, "while Angelique des Meloises
chooses to contest the palm of beauty."

"I contest no palm with her, Chevalier; but I give you this rosebud for
your gallant speech. But tell me, what does Le Gardeur think of this
wonderful beauty? Is there any talk of marriage?"

"There is, of course, much talk of an alliance." De Pean lied, and the
truth had been better for him.

Angelique started as if stung by a wasp. The dance ceased for her, and
she hastened to a seat. "De Pean," said she, "you promised to bring Le
Gardeur forthwith back to the city; will you do it?"

"I will bring him back, dead or alive, if you desire it; but I must have
time. That uncompromising Colonel Philibert is with him. His sister,
too, clings to him like a good angel to the skirt of a sinner. Since you
desire it,"--De Pean spoke it with bitterness,--"Le Gardeur shall come
back, but I doubt if it will be for his benefit or yours, Mademoiselle."

"What do you mean, De Pean?" asked she, abruptly, her dark eyes alight
with eager curiosity, not unmingled with apprehension. "Why do you doubt
it will not be for his benefit or mine? Who is to harm him?"

"Nay,