All next day La Corriveau kept closely to the house, but she found
means to communicate to Angelique her intention to visit Beaumanoir
that night.
The news was grateful, yet strangely moving to Angelique; she
trembled and turned pale, not for truth, but for doubt and dread of
possible failure or discovery.
She sent by an unknown hand to the house of Mere Malheur a little
basket containing a bouquet of roses so beautiful and fragrant that
they might have been plucked in the garden of Eden.
La Corriveau carried the basket into an inner chamber, a small room,
the window of which never saw the sun, but opened against the close,
overhanging rock, which was so near that it might be touched by the
hand. The dark, damp wall of the cliff shed a gloomy obscurity in
the room even at midday.
The small black eyes of La Corriveau glittered like poniards as she
opened the basket, and taking out the bouquet, found attached to it
by a ribbon a silken purse containing a number of glittering pieces
of gold. She pressed the coins to her cheek, and even put them
between her lips to taste their sweetness, for money she loved
beyond all things.
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