And yet Antoine La Chance, the boatman, says she is equal
to a Bishop for stirring up piety; and more Ave Marias are repeated
when she is in his boat, than are said by the whole parish on
Sunday."
"I ought to say my Ave Marias, too!" replied Angelique, as Fanchon
left the apartment, "but my mouth is parched and burns up the words
of prayer like a furnace; but that is nothing to the fire in my
heart! That girl, Fanchon Dodier, is not to be trusted, but I have
no other messenger to send for La Corriveau. I must be wary with
her, too, and make her suggest the thing I would have done. My Lady
of Beaumanoir!" she apostrophized in a hard monotone, "your fate
does not depend on the Intendant, as you fondly imagine. Better had
he issued the lettre de cachet than for you to fall into the hands
of La Corriveau!"
Daylight now shot into the windows, and the bright rays of the
rising sun streamed full in the face of Angelique. She saw herself
reflected in the large Venetian mirror. Her countenance looked
pale, stern, and fixed as marble.
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