“No, I don't know men,” replied Amélie, “but I think a noble man is, after God, the worthiest object of a woman's devotion. We were better dead than finding amusement in the pain of those who love us; pray what became of Julien de St. Croix after you broke up his intended marriage with poor Françoise?” “Oh! I threw him to the fishes! What did I care for him? It was mainly to punish Françoise's presumption that I showed my power and made him fight that desperate duel with Captain Le Franc.” “O Angélique, how could you be so unutterably wicked?” “Wicked? It was not my fault, you know, that he was killed. He was my champion, and ought to have come off victor. I wore a black ribbon for him a full half-year, and had the credit of being devoted to his memory; I had my triumph in that if in nothing else.” “Your triumph! for shame, Angélique! I will not listen to you: you profane the very name of love by uttering such sentiments. The gift of so much beauty was for blessing, not for pain. St. Mary pray for you, Angélique: you need her prayers!” Amélie rose up suddenly. “Nay, do not get angry and go off that way, Amélie,” ejaculated Angélique. “I will do penance for my triumphs by relating my defeats, and my special failure of all, which I know you will rejoice to hear.” “I, Angélique? What have your triumphs or failures to do with me? No, I care not to hear.” Angélique held her half forcibly by the scarf. “But you will care when I tell you that I met an old and valued friend of yours last night at the Castle--the new Aide-de-Camp of the Governor, Colonel Philibert. I think I have heard you speak of Pierre Philibert in the Convent, Amélie?” Amélie felt the net thrown over her by the skilful retiaria. She stood stock-still in mute surprise, with averted eye and deeply blushing cheek, fighting desperately with the confusion she feared to let Angélique detect. But that keen-sighted girl saw too clearly--she had caught her fast as a bird is caught by the fowler. “Yes, I met with a double defeat last night,” continued Angélique. “Indeed! pray, from whom?” Amélie's curiosity, though not usually a troublesome quality, was by this time fairly roused. Angélique saw her drift, and played with her anxiety for a few moments. “My first rebuff was from that gentlemanly philosopher from Sweden, a great friend of the Governor, you know. But, alas, I might as well have tried to fascinate an iceberg! I do not believe that he knew, after a half-hour's conversation with me, whether I was man or woman. That was defeat number one.” “And what was number two?” Amélie was now thoroughly interested in Angélique's gossip. “I left the dry, unappreciative philosopher, and devoted myself to charm the handsome Colonel Philibert. He was all wit and courtesy, but my failure was even more signal with him than with the cold Swede.”