"Like one doomed to die, because she is too good to live. Sorrow is
a bad pasture for a young creature like her to feed on, Dame
Dodier!" was the answer, but it did not change a muscle on the face
of La Corriveau.
"Ay! but there are worse pastures than sorrow for young creatures
like her, and she has found one of them," she replied, coldly.
"Well! as we make our bed so must we lie on it, Dame Dodier,--that
is what I always tell the silly young things who come to me asking
their fortunes; and the proverb pleases them. They always think the
bridal bed must be soft and well made, at any rate."
"They are fools! better make their death-bed than their bridal bed!
But I must see this piece of perfection of yours to-morrow night,
dame! The Intendant returns in two days, and he might remove her.
Did she tell you about him?"
"No! Bigot is a devil more powerful than the one we serve, dame. I
fear him!"
"Tut! I fear neither devil nor man. It was to be at the hour of
twelve! Did you not say at the hour of twelve, Mere Malheur?"
"Yes! go in by the vaulted passage and knock at the secret door.
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