All women will admit that; all men
swear to it!" said La Corriveau, in a harsh voice that grated
ominously, like the door of hell which she was opening with this
commencement of her business.
Angelique replied only with a smile. A compliment from La Corriveau
even was not wasted upon her; but just now she was on the brink of
an abyss of explanation, looking down into the dark pit, resolved,
yet hesitating to make the plunge.
"No witch or witchery but your own charms is needed, Mademoiselle,"
continued La Corriveau, falling into the tone of flattery she often
used towards her dupes, "to make what fortune you will in this
world; what pearl ever fished out of the sea could add a grace to
this wondrous hair of yours? Permit me to touch it, Mademoiselle!"
La Corriveau took hold of a thick tress, and held it up to the light
of the lamp, where it shone like gold. Angelique shrank back as
from the touch of fire. She withdrew her hair with a jerk from the
hand of La Corriveau. A shudder passed through her from head to
foot. It was the last parting effort of her good genius to save
her.
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