She seemed drawn down into a vortex from which there was no escape.
She gave herself up to its drift in a sort of passionate
abandonment. The death or the banishment of Caroline were the only
alternatives she could contemplate. "'The sweetest eyes that were
ever seen'--Bigot's foolish words!" thought she; "and the influence
of those eyes must be killed if Angelique des Meloises is ever to
mount the lofty chariot of her ambition."
"Other women," she thought bitterly, "would abandon greatness for
love, and in the arms of a faithful lover like Le Gardeur find a
compensation for the slights of the Intendant!"
But Angelique was not like other women: she was born to conquer men--
not to yield to them. The steps of a throne glittered in her wild
fancy, and she would not lose the game of her life because she had
missed the first throw. Bigot was false to her, but he was still
worth the winning, for all the reasons which made her first listen
to him. She had no love for him--not a spark! But his name, his
rank, his wealth, his influence at Court, and a future career of
glory there--these things she had regarded as her own by right of
her beauty and skill in ruling men.
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