"It is not nice, and it is not
true!"
"But it is true, Fanchon Dodier! if it be not nice. There is
nothing nice to be said of our sex, except by foolish men! Women
know one another better! But," continued she, scrutinizing her
niece with her keen black eyes, which seemed to pierce her through
and through, "what ill wind or Satan's errand has brought you to St.
Valier to-day, Fanchon?"
"No ill wind, nor ill errand either, I hope, aunt. I come by
command of my mistress to ask you to go to the city: she is biting
her nails off with impatience to see you on some business."
"And who is your mistress, who dares to ask La Corriveau to go to
the city at her bidding?"
"Do not be angry, aunt," replied Fanchon, soothingly. "It was I
counselled her to send for you, and I offered to fetch you. My
mistress is a high lady, who expects to be still higher,--
Mademoiselle des Meloises!
"Mademoiselle Angelique des Meloises,--one hears enough of her! a
high lady indeed! who will be low enough at last! A minx as vain as
she is pretty, who would marry all the men in New France, and kill
all the women, if she could have her way! What in the name of the
Sabbat does she want with La Corriveau?"
"She did not call you names, aunt, and please do not say such things
of her, for you will frighten me away before I tell my errand.
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