She was in this woman's power.
She shivered from head to foot. "Your reward for this night's work
is here," faltered she, placing her hand over a small box. She did
not touch it, it seemed as if it would burn her. It was heavy with
pieces of gold. "They are uncounted," continued she. "Take it, it
is all yours!"
La Corriveau snatched the box off the table and held it to her
bosom. Angelique continued, in a monotonous tone, as one conning a
lesson by rote,--"Use it prudently. Do not seem to the world to
be suddenly rich: it might be inquired into. I have thought of
everything during the past night, and I remember I had to tell you
that when I gave you the gold. Use it prudently! Something else,
too, I was to tell you, but I think not of it at this moment."
"Thanks, and no thanks, Mademoiselle!" replied La Corriveau, in a
hard tone. "Thanks for the reward so fully earned. No thanks for
your faint heart that robs me of my well-earned meed of applause for
a work done so artistically and perfectly that La Brinvilliers, or
La Borgia herself, might envy me, a humble paysanne of St.
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