They walk every street of the city. But they say
this lost and found lady is a stranger?"
"To me she is--not to you, perhaps, Mademoiselle!"
The fine ear of Angelique detected the strain of hypocrisy in his
speech. It touched a sensitive nerve. She spoke boldly now.
"Some say she is your wife, Chevalier Bigot!" Angelique gave vent
to a feeling long pent-up. She who trifled with men's hearts every
day was indignant at the least symptom of repayment in kind. "They
say she is your wife or, if not your wife, she ought to be,
Chevalier,--and will be, perhaps, one of these fine days, when
you have wearied of the distressed damsels of the city."
It had been better for Bigot, better for Angelique, that these two
could have frankly understood each other. Bigot, in his sudden
admiration of the beauty of this girl, forgot that his object in
coming to see her had really been to promote a marriage, in the
interests of the Grand Company, between her and Le Gardeur. Her
witcheries had been too potent for the man of pleasure. He was
himself caught in the net he spread for another.
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