tell
me all and every incident of what you have done."

"You will not like to hear it. Better be content with the knowledge that
your rival was a dangerous and a beautiful one." Angelique looked up at
this. "Better be content to know that she is dead, without asking any
more."

"No, you shall tell me everything. I cannot rest unless I know all!"

"Nor after you do know all will you rest!" replied La Corriveau
slightingly, for she despised the evident trepidation of Angelique.

"No matter! you shall tell me. I am calm now." Angelique made a great
effort to appear calm while she listened to the tale of tragedy in which
she had played so deep a part.

La Corriveau, observing that the gust of passion was blown over, sat
down in the chair opposite Angelique, and placing one hand on the knee
of her listener, as if to hold her fast, began the terrible recital.

She gave Angelique a graphic, minute, and not untrue account of all she
had done at Beaumanoir, dwelling with fierce unction on the marvellous
and sudden effects of the aqua tofana, not sparing one detail of the
beauty and innocent looks of her victim; and repeating, with a mocking
laugh, the deceit she had practised upon her with regard to the bouquet
as a gift from the Intendant.

Angelique listened to the terrible tale, drinking it in with eyes,
mouth, and ears. Her countenance changed to a mask of ugliness,
wonderful in one by nature so fair to see. Cloud followed cloud over
her face and eyes as the dread recital went on, and her imagination
accompanied it with vivid pictures of every phase of the diabolical
crime.

When La Corriveau described the presentation of the bouquet as a gift
of Bigot, and the deadly sudden effect which followed its joyous
acceptance, the thoughts of Caroline in her white robe, stricken as by
a thunderbolt, shook Angelique with terrible emotion. But when La
Corriveau, coldly and with a bitter spite at her softness, described
with a sudden gesticulation and eyes piercing her through and through,
the strokes of the poniard upon the lifeless body of her victim,
Angelique sprang up, clasped her hands together, and, with a cry of woe,
fell senseless upon the floor.

"She is useless now," said La Corriveau, rising and spurning Angelique
with her foot. "I deemed she had courage to equal her wickedness. She is
but a woman after all,--doomed to be the slave of some man through
life, while aspiring to command all men! It is not of such fl