The Golden Dog [175]
"Well, a ball in Quebec is not worth twisting a curl for in the absence of Le Gardeur de Repentigny!" replied she. "You shall promise me to bring him back to the city, Chevalier, or I will dance with you no more."
Angelique laughed so gaily as she said this that a stranger would have interpreted her words as all jest.
"She means it, nevertheless," thought the Chevalier. "I will promise my best endeavor, Mademoiselle," said he, setting hard his teeth, with a grimace of dissatisfaction which did not escape the eye of Angelique; "moreover, the Intendant desires his return on affairs of the Grand Company, and has sent more than one message to him already, to urge his return."
"A fig for the Grand Company! Remember, it is I desire his return; and it is my command, not the Intendant's, which you are bound, as a gallant gentleman, to obey." Angelique would have no divided allegiance, and the man who claimed her favors must give himself up, body and soul, without thought of redemption.
She felt very reckless and very wilful at this moment. The laughter on her lips was the ebullition of a hot and angry heart, not the play of a joyous, happy spirit. Bigot's refusal of a lettre de cachet had stung her pride to the quick, and excited a feeling of resentment which found its expression in the wish for the return of Le Gardeur.
"Why do you desire the return of Le Gardeur?" asked De Pean, hesitatingly. Angelique was often too frank by half, and questioners got from her more than they liked to hear.
"Because he was my first admirer, and I never forget a true friend, Chevalier," replied she, with an undertone of fond regret in her voice.
"But he will not be your last admirer," replied De Pean, with what he considered a seductive leer, which made her laugh at him. "In the kingdom of love, as in the kingdom of heaven, the last shall be first and the first last. May I be the 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,--