The fair demoiselles at the ball, less resolutely ambitious than
Angelique, found by degrees, in the devotion of other cavaliers,
ample compensation for only so much of the Intendant's favor as he
liberally bestowed on all the sex; but that did not content
Angelique: she looked with sharpest eyes of inquisition upon the
bright glances which now and then shot across the room where she sat
by the side of Bigot, apparently steeped in happiness, but with a
serpent biting at her heart, for she felt that Bigot was really
unimpressible as a stone under her most subtle manipulation.
Her thoughts ran in a round of ceaseless repetition of the question:
"Why can I not subdue Francois Bigot as I have subdued every other
man who exposed his weak side to my power?" and Angelique pressed
her foot hard upon the floor as the answer returned ever the same:
"The heart of the Intendant is away at Beaumanoir! That pale,
pensive lady" (Angelique used a more coarse and emphatic word)
"stands between him and me like a spectre as she is, and obstructs
the path I have sacrificed so much to enter!"
"I cannot endure the heat of the ballroom, Bigot!" said Angelique;
"I will dance no more to-night! I would rather sit and catch
fireflies on the terrace than chase forever without overtaking it
the bird that has escaped from my bosom!"
The Intendant, ever attentive to her wishes, offered his arm to lead
her into the pleached walks of the illuminated garden.
Pages:
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605