Her black eyes looked downwards, seeming to penetrate
the very earth, and to reflect in their glittering orbits the fires
of the underworld.
She stood for a few moments, buried in deep thought, with her arms
tightly folded across her breast. Her fingers moved nervously, as
they kept time with the quick motions of her foot, which beat the
ground.
"It is for death, and no lost jewels, that girl sends for me!"
muttered La Corriveau through her teeth, which flashed white and
cruel between her thin lips. "She has a rival in her love for the
Intendant, and she will lovingly, by my help, feed her with the
manna of St. Nicholas! Angelique des Meloises has boldness, craft,
and falseness for twenty women, and can keep secrets like a nun.
She is rich and ambitious, and would poison half the world rather
than miss the thing she sets her mind on. She is a girl after my
own heart, and worth the risk I run with her. Her riches would be
endless should she succeed in her designs; and with her in my power,
nothing she has would henceforth be her own,--but mine! mine!
Besides," added La Corriveau, her thoughts flashing back to the fate
which had overtaken her progenitors, Exili and La Voisin, "I may
need help myself, some day, to plead with the Intendant on my own
account,--who knows?"
A strange thrill ran through the veins of La Corriveau, but she
instantly threw it off.
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