Masses of fresh
flowers filled the antique Sevres vases, sending delicious odors
through the apartment, which was furnished in a style of almost
royal splendor. Upon the white hearth a few billets of wood blazed
cheerfully, for, after a hot day, as was not uncommon in New France,
a cool salt-water breeze came up the great river, bringing reminders
of cold sea-washed rocks and snowy crevices still lingering upon the
mountainous shores of the St. Lawrence.
Angelique sat idly watching the wreaths of smoke as they rose in
shapes fantastic as her own thoughts.
By that subtle instinct which is a sixth sense in woman, she knew
that Le Gardeur de Repentigny would visit her to-night and renew
his offer of marriage. She meant to retain his love and evade his
proposals, and she never for a moment doubted her ability to
accomplish her ends. Men's hearts had hitherto been but potter's
clay in her hands, and she had no misgivings now; but she felt that
the love of Le Gardeur was a thing she could not tread on without a
shock to herself like the counter-stroke of a torpedo to the naked
foot of an Indian who rashly steps upon it as it basks in a sunny
pool.
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