Valier, and drew
him into a marriage with her.
It was a barren union. No child followed, with God's grace in its
little hands, to create a mother's feelings and soften the callous
heart of La Corriveau. She cursed her lot that it was so, and her
dry bosom became an arid spot of desert, tenanted by satyrs and
dragons, by every evil passion of a woman without conscience and
void of love.
But La Corriveau had inherited the sharp intellect and Italian
dissimulation of Antonio Exili: she was astute enough to throw a
veil of hypocrisy over the evil eyes which shot like a glance of
death from under the thick black eyebrows.
Her craft was equal to her malice. An occasional deed of alms, done
not for charity's sake, but for ostentation; an adroit deal of
cards, or a horoscope cast to flatter a foolish girl; a word of
sympathy, hollow as a water bubble, but colored with iridescent
prettiness, averted suspicion from the darker traits of her
character.
If she was hated, she was also feared by her neighbors, and although
the sign of the cross was made upon the chair whereon she had sat in
a neighbor's house, her visits were not unwelcome, and in the manor-
house, as in the cabin of the woodman, La Corriveau was received,
consulted, rewarded, and oftener thanked than cursed, by her witless
dupes.
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