“I would cut the throat of any man in the world for the sake of her bright eyes,” said he to himself, as she gave him a parting salute with her handkerchief; “but she must not ask me to hurt that poor foolish girl at Beaumanoir. No, by St. Picot! she is hurt enough already, and I will not have Angélique tormenting her! What merciless creatures women are to one another, Cadet!” said he, aloud. Cadet looked up with red, inflamed eyes at the remark of Bigot. He cared nothing for women himself, and never hesitated to show his contempt for the whole sex. “Merciless creatures, do you call them, Bigot! the claws of all the cats in Caen could not match the finger-nails of a jealous woman--still less her biting tongue.” Angélique des Meloises swept past the two in a storm of music, as if in defiance of their sage criticisms. Her hand rested on the shoulder of the Chevalier de Pean. She had an object which made her endure it, and her dissimulation was perfect. Her eyes transfixed his with their dazzling look. Her lips were wreathed in smiles; she talked continually as she danced, and with an inconsistency which did not seem strange in her, was lamenting the absence from the ball of Le Gardeur de Repentigny. “Chevalier,” said she, in reply to some gallantry of her partner, “most women take pride in making sacrifices of themselves; I prefer to sacrifice my admirers. I like a man, not in the measure of what I do for him, but what he will do for me. Is not that a candid avowal, Chevalier? You like frankness, you know.” Frankness and the Chevalier de Pean were unknown quantities together; but he was desperately smitten, and would bear any amount of snubbing from Angélique. “You have something in your mind you wish me to do,” replied he, eagerly. “I would poison my grandmother, if you asked me, for the reward you could give me.” “Yes, I have something in my mind, Chevalier, but not concerning your grandmother. Tell me why you allowed Le Gardeur de Repentigny to leave the city?” “I did not allow him to leave the city,” said he, twitching his ugly features, for he disliked the interest she expressed in Le Gardeur. “I would fain have kept him here if I could. The Intendant, too, had desperate need of him. It was his sister and Colonel Philibert who spirited him away from us.” “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.” Angélique 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 Angélique; “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.”