"
"Dame Tremblay! the Charming Josephine of Lake Beauport! She who
would have been a witch, and could not: Satan would not have her!"
exclaimed La Corriveau, scornfully. "Is she still housekeeper and
bedmaker at Beaumanoir?"
Fanchon was honest enough to feel rather indignant at this speech.
"Don't speak so of her, aunt; she is not bad. Although I ran away
from her, and took service with Mademoiselle des Meloises, I will
not speak ill of her."
"Why did you run away from Beaumanoir?" asked La Corriveau.
Fanchon reflected a moment upon the mystery of the lady of
Beaumanoir, and something checked her tongue, as if it were not
safe to tell all she knew to her aunt, who would, moreover, be
sure to find out from Angelique herself as much as her mistress
wished her to know.
"I did not like Dame Tremblay, aunt," replied she; I preferred to
live with Mademoiselle Angelique. She is a lady, a beauty, who
dresses to surpass any picture in the book of modes from Paris,
which I often looked at on her dressing-table. She allowed me to
imitate them, or wear her cast-off dresses, which were better than
any other ladies' new ones.
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