“Pardon me, Mademoiselle; it is no proposal of mine,--on behalf of Le Gardeur. I sanctioned his promotion. Your brother, and the Grand Company generally, would prefer the alliance. I don't!” He said this with a tone of meaning which Angélique was acute enough to see implied Bigot's unwillingness to her marrying any man--but himself, was the addendum she at once placed to his credit. “I regret I mentioned it,” continued he, blandly, “if it be contrary to your wishes.” “It is contrary to my wishes,” replied she, relaxing her clutch of his arm. “Le Gardeur de Repentigny can speak for himself. I will not allow even my brother to suggest it; still less will I discuss such a subject with the Chevalier Bigot.” “I hope you will pardon me, Mademoiselle--I will not call you Angélique until you are pleased with me again. To be sure, I should never have forgiven you had you conformed to your brother's wishes. It was what I feared might happen, and I--I wished to try you; that was all!” “It is dangerous trying me, Chevalier,” replied she, resuming her seat with some heat. “Don't try me again, or I shall take Le Gardeur out of pure SPITE,” she said. Pure love was in her mind, but the other word came from her lips. “I will do all I can to rescue him from the Honnêtes Gens, but not by marrying him, Chevalier,--at present.” They seemed to understand each other fully. “It is over with now,” said Bigot. “I swear to you, Angélique, I did not mean to offend you,--you cut deep.” “Pshaw!” retorted she, smiling. “Wounds by a lady are easily cured: they seldom leave a mark behind, a month after.” “I don't know that. The slight repulse of a lady's finger--a touch that would not crush a gnat--will sometimes kill a strong man like a sword-stroke. I have known such things to happen,” said Bigot. “Well, happily, my touch has not hurt you, Chevalier. But, having vindicated myself, I feel I owe you reparation. You speak of rescuing Le Gardeur from the Honnêtes Gens. In what way can I aid you?” “In many ways and all ways. Withdraw him from them. The great festival at the Philiberts--when is it to be?” “To-morrow! See, they have honored me with a special invitation.” She drew a note from her pocket. “This is very polite of Colonel Philibert, is it not?” said she. Bigot glanced superciliously at the note. “Do you mean to go, Angélique?” asked he. “No; although, had I no feelings but my own to consult, I would certainly go.” “Whose feelings do you consult, Angélique,” asked the Intendant, “if not your own?” “Oh, don't be flattered,--the Grand Company's! I am loyal to the association without respect to persons.” “So much the better,” said he. “By the way, it would not be amiss to keep Le Gardeur away from the festival. These Philiberts and the heads of the Honnêtes Gens have great sway over him.”