"
"I hope you will pardon me, Mademoiselle--I will not call you
Angelique until you are pleased with me again. To be sure, I should
never have forgiven you had you conformed to your brother's wishes.
It was what I feared might happen, and I--I wished to try you; that
was all!"
"It is dangerous trying me, Chevalier," replied she, resuming her
seat with some heat. "Don't try me again, or I shall take Le
Gardeur out of pure SPITE," she said. Pure love was in her mind,
but the other word came from her lips. "I will do all I can to
rescue him from the Honnetes Gens, but not by marrying him,
Chevalier,--at present."
They seemed to understand each other fully. "It is over with now,"
said Bigot. "I swear to you, Angelique, I did not mean to offend
you,--you cut deep."
"Pshaw!" retorted she, smiling. "Wounds by a lady are easily cured:
they seldom leave a mark behind, a month after."
"I don't know that. The slight repulse of a lady's finger--a touch
that would not crush a gnat--will sometimes kill a strong man like a
sword-stroke.
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