did halls of the
Intendant.

Bigot stood at the door bowing farewell and thanks to the fair company
when the tall, queenly figure of Angelique came down leaning on the arm
of the Chevalier de Pean. Bigot tendered her his arm, which she at once
accepted, and he accompanied her to her carriage.

She bowed graciously to the Intendant and De Pean, on her departure,
but no sooner had she driven off, than, throwing herself back in her
carriage, heedless of the presence of her brother, who accompanied her
home, she sank into a silent train of thoughts from which she was roused
with a start when the carriage drew up sharply at the door of their own
home.

CHAPTER XXXIII. LA CORRIVEAU.

Angelique scarcely noticed her brother, except to bid him good-night
when she left him in the vestibule of the mansion. Gathering her gay
robes in her jewelled hand, she darted up the broad stairs to her
own apartment, the same in which she had received Le Gardeur on that
memorable night in which she crossed the Rubicon of her fate.

There was a fixedness in her look and a recklessness in her step that
showed anger and determination. It struck Lizette with a sort of awe, so
that, for once, she did not dare to accost her young mistress with her
usual freedom. The maid opened the door and closed it again without
offering a word, waiting in the anteroom until a summons should come
from her mistress.

Lizette observed that she had thrown herself into a fauteuil, after
hastily casting off her mantle, which lay at her feet. Her long hair
hung loose over her shoulders as it parted from all its combs and
fastenings. She held her hands clasped hard across her forehead, and
stared with fixed eyes upon the fire which burned low on the hearth,
flickering in the depths of the antique fireplace, and occasionally
sending a flash through the room which lit up the pictures on the wall,
seeming to give them life and movement, as if they, too, would gladly
have tempted Angelique to better thoughts. But she noticed them not, and
would not at that moment have endured to look at them.

Angelique had forbidden the lamps to be lighted: it suited her mood to
sit in the half-obscure room, and in truth her thoughts were hard and
cruel, fit only to be brooded over in darkness and alone. She clenched
her hands, and raising them above her head, muttered an oath between her
teeth, exclaiming,--

"Par Dieu! It must be done! It must be done!" She stopped suddenly