She had seen the gardens of the palace many
times before, but never illuminated as now. The sight of them so
grandly decorated filled her with admiration of their owner, and she
resolved that, cost what it would, the homage paid to her to-night,
as the partner of the Intendant, should become hers by right on his
hearthstone as the first lady in New France.
Angelique threw back her veil that all might see her, that the women
might envy and the men admire her, as she leaned confidingly on the
arm of Bigot, looking up in his face with that wonderful smile of
hers which had brought so many men to ruin at her feet, and talking
with such enchantment as no woman could talk but Angelique des
Meloises.
Well understanding that her only road to success was to completely
fascinate the Intendant, she bent herself to the task with such
power of witchery and such simulation of real passion, that Bigot,
wary and experienced gladiator as he was in the arena of love, was
more than once brought to the brink of a proposal for her hand.
She watched every movement of his features, at these critical
moments when he seemed just falling into the snares so artfully
set for him.
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