But she gave him a glance
which insinuated more than all she left unsaid.
Bigot smiled to himself. "Angelique is jealous!" thought he, but
he only remarked, "That is an aphorism which I believe with all my
heart! If the pleasure of a woman be in the fidelity of her lover,
I know no one who should be more happy than Angelique des Meloises!
No lady in New France has a right to claim greater devotion from a
lover, and no one receives it!"
"But I have no faith in the fidelity of my lover! and I am not
happy, Chevalier! far from it!" replied she, with one of those
impulsive speeches that seemed frankness itself, but in this woman
were artful to a degree.
"Why so?" replied he; "pleasure will never leave you, Angelique,
unless you wilfully chase it away from your side! All women envy
your beauty, all men struggle to obtain your smiles. For myself, I
would gather all the joys and treasures of the world, and lay them
at your feet, would you let me!
"I do not hinder you, Chevalier!" she replied, with a laugh of
incredulity, "but you do not do it! It is only your politeness to
say that.
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