"And what woman in the world,"
thought she, "could vie with Angelique des Meloises if she chose to
enter the arena to supplant La Pompadour? Nay, more! If the prize
of the King were her lot, she would outdo La Maintenon herself, and
end by sitting on the throne."
Angelique was not, however, a milkmaid to say yes before she was
asked. She knew her value, and had a natural distrust of the
Intendant's gallant speeches. Moreover, the shadow of the lady of
Beaumanoir would not wholly disappear. "Why do you say such
flattering things to me, Chevalier?" asked she. "One takes them for
earnest coming from the Royal Intendant. You should leave trifling
to the idle young men of the city, who have no business to employ
them but gallanting us women."
"Trifling! By St. Jeanne de Choisy, I was never more in earnest,
Mademoiselle!" exclaimed Bigot. "I offer you the entire devotion of
my heart." St. Jeanne de Choisy was the sobriquet in the petits
appartements for La Pompadour. Angelique knew it very well,
although Bigot thought she did not.
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