There was one thought which still tormented her "What would the
Intendant think? What would he say should he suspect her of the
murder of Caroline?" She feared his scrutinizing investigation;
but, trusting in her power, she risked his suspicions, nay,
remembering his words, made him in her own mind an accessory in
the murder.
If she remembered Le Gardeur de Repentigny at all at this moment, it
was only to strangle the thought of him. She shied like a horse on
the brink of a precipice when the thought of Le Gardeur intruded
itself. Rising suddenly, she bade La Corriveau be gone about her
business, lest she should be tempted to change her mind.
La Corriveau laughed at the last struggle of dying conscience, and
bade Angelique go to bed. It was two hours past midnight, and she
would bid Fanchon let her depart to the house of an old crone in the
city who would give her a bed and a blessing in the devil's name.
Angelique, weary and agitated, bade her be gone in the devil's name,
if she preferred a curse to a blessing. The witch, with a mocking
laugh, rose and took her departure for the night.
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