Whichever way she turned the
eidolon of Caroline met her as a bar to all further progress in her
design upon the Intendant.
The dim half-vision of Caroline which she had seen in the pleached
walk, she knew was only the shadow and projection of her own
thoughts, a brooding fancy which she had unconsciously conjured up
into the form of her hated rival. The addition of the child was the
creation of the deep and jealous imaginings which had often crossed
her mind. She thought of that yet unborn pledge of a once mutual
affection as the secret spell by which Caroline, pale and feeble as
she was, still held the heart of the Intendant in some sort of
allegiance.
"It is that vile, weak thing!" said she bitterly and angrily to
herself, "which is stronger than I. It is by that she excites his
pity, and pity draws after it the renewal of his love. If the hope
of what is not yet be so potent with Bigot, what will not the
reality prove ere long? The annihilation of all my brilliant
anticipations! I have drawn a blank in life's lottery, by the
rejection of Le Gardeur for his sake! It is the hand of that
shadowy babe which plucks away the words of proposal from the lips
of Bigot, which gives his love to its vile mother, and leaves to me
the mere ashes of his passion, words which mean nothing, which will
never mean anything but insult to Angelique des Meloises, so long as
that woman lives to claim the hand which but for her would be mine!"
Dark fancies fluttered across the mind of Angelique during the
absence of the Intendant.
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