The adroit bird-
catching of Angelique was too much for him in the beginning: Bigot's
tact and consummate heartlessness with women, might be too much for
her in the end. At the present moment he was fairly dazzled with
her beauty, spirit, and seductiveness.
"I am a simple quail," thought he, "to be caught by her piping. Par
Dieu! I am going to make a fool of myself if I do not take care!
Such a woman as this I have not found between Paris and Naples. The
man who gets her, and knows how to use her, might be Prime Minister
of France. And to fancy it--I came here to pick this sweet chestnut
out of the fire for Le Gardeur de Repentigny! Francois Bigot! as a
man of gallantry and fashion I am ashamed of you!"
These were his thoughts, but in words he replied, "The lady of
Beaumanoir is not my wife, perhaps never will be." Angelique's
eager question fell on very unproductive ground.
Angelique repeated the word superciliously. "'Perhaps!' 'Perhaps'
in the mouth of a woman is consent half won; in the mouth of a man I
know it has a laxer meaning.
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