"
"Your triumph! for shame, Angelique! 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, Angelique: you need her prayers!" Amelie rose up suddenly.
"Nay, do not get angry and go off that way, Amelie," ejaculated
Angelique. "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, Angelique? What have your triumphs or failures to do with me?
No, I care not to hear." Angelique 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, Amelie?"
Amelie 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 Angelique detect.
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