he will only harm himself, Angelique. And, by St. Picot! he will
have ample scope for doing it in this city. He has no other enemy but
himself." De Pean felt that she was making an ox of him to draw the
plough of her scheming.

"Are you sure of that, De Pean?" demanded she, sharply.

"Quite sure. Are not all the associates of the Grand Company his fastest
friends? Not one of them will hurt him, I am sure."

"Chevalier de Pean!" said she, noticing the slight shrug he gave when he
said this, "you say Le Gardeur has no enemy but himself; if so, I hope
to save him from himself, nothing more. Therefore I want him back to the
city."

De Pean glanced towards Bigot. "Pardon me, Mademoiselle. Did the
Intendant never speak to you of Le Gardeur's abrupt departure?" asked
he.

"Never! He has spoken to you, though. What did he say?" asked she, with
eager curiosity.

"He said that you might have detained him had you wished, and he blamed
you for his departure."

De Pean had a suspicion that Angelique had really been instrumental in
withdrawing Le Gardeur from the clutches of himself and associates; but
in this he erred. Angelique loved Le Gardeur, at least for her own sake
if not for his, and would have preferred he should risk all the dangers
of the city to avoid what she deemed the still greater dangers of the
country,--and the greatest of these, in her opinion, was the fair face
of Heloise de Lotbiniere. While, from motives of ambition, Angelique
refused to marry him herself, she could not bear the thought of another
getting the man whom she had rejected.

De Pean was fairly puzzled by her caprices: he could not fathom, but he
dared not oppose them.

At this moment Bigot, who had waited for the conclusion of a game of
cards, rejoined the group where she sat.

Angelique drew in her robe and made room for him beside her, and was
presently laughing and talking as free from care, apparently, as an
oriole warbling on a summer spray. De Pean courteously withdrew, leaving
her alone with the Intendant.

Bigot was charmed for the moment into oblivion of the lady who sat in
her secluded chamber at Beaumanoir. He forgot his late quarrel with
Angelique in admiration of her beauty. The pleasure he took in her
presence shed a livelier glow of light across his features. She observed
it, and a renewed hope of triumph lifted her into still higher flights
of gaiety.

"Angelique," said he, offering his arm to conduct her to the gorge