g in her chair, not noticing the presence of her niece,
who stood for a moment looking and hesitating before accosting her. Her
countenance bore, when she was alone, an expression of malignity which
made Fanchon shudder. A quick, unconscious twitching of the fingers
accompanied her thoughts, as if this weird woman was playing a game of
mora with the evil genius that waited on her. Her grandsire Exili had
the same nervous twitching of his fingers, and the vulgar accused him of
playing at mora with the Devil, who ever accompanied him, they believed.

The lips of La Corriveau moved in unison with her thoughts. She was
giving expression to her habitual contempt for her sex as she crooned
over, in a sufficiently audible voice to reach the ear of Fanchon, a
hateful song of Jean Le Meung on women:

"'Toutes vous etes, serez ou futes,
De fait ou de volonte putes!'"

"It is not nice to say that, Aunt Marie!" exclaimed Fanchon, coming
forward and embracing La Corriveau, who gave a start on seeing her niece
so unexpectedly before her. "It is not nice, and it is not true!"

"But it is true, Fanchon Dodier! if it be not nice. There is nothing
nice to be said of our sex, except by foolish men! Women know one
another better! But," continued she, scrutinizing her niece with her
keen black eyes, which seemed to pierce her through and through,
"what ill wind or Satan's errand has brought you to St. Valier to-day,
Fanchon?"

"No ill wind, nor ill errand either, I hope, aunt. I come by command of
my mistress to ask you to go to the city: she is biting her nails off
with impatience to see you on some business."

"And who is your mistress, who dares to ask La Corriveau to go to the
city at her bidding?"

"Do not be angry, aunt," replied Fanchon, soothingly. "It was I
counselled her to send for you, and I offered to fetch you. My mistress
is a high lady, who expects to be still higher,--Mademoiselle des
Meloises!

"Mademoiselle Angelique des Meloises,--one hears enough of her! a high
lady indeed! who will be low enough at last! A minx as vain as she is
pretty, who would marry all the men in New France, and kill all the
women, if she could have her way! What in the name of the Sabbat does
she want with La Corriveau?"

"She did not call you names, aunt, and please do not say such things of
her, for you will frighten me away before I tell my errand. Mademoiselle
Angelique sent this piece of gold as earnest-money to pro