"However, all the world is caught by that bird-lime. I confess I
never made a fool of myself but a woman was at the bottom of it.
But for one who has tripped me up, I have taken sweet revenge on a
thousand. If Le Gardeur be entangled in Nerea's hair, he is safe in
our toils. Do you think Angelique is at home, De Pean?"
The Intendant looked up at the clock. It was the usual hour for
morning calls in Quebec.
"Doubtless she is at home at this hour, your Excellency," replied De
Pean. "But she likes her bed, as other pretty women do, and is
practising for the petite levee, like a duchess. I don't suppose
she is up!"
"I don't know that," replied Bigot. "A greater runagate in
petticoats there is not in the whole city! I never pass through
the streets but I see her."
"Ay, that is because she intends to meet your Excellency!" Bigot
looked sharply at De Pean. A new thought flashed in his eyes.
"What! think you she makes a point of it, De Pean?"
"I think she would not go out of the way of your Excellency." De
Pean shuffled among his papers, but his slight agitation was noticed
by the Intendant.
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