La Corriveau, observing that the gust of passion was blown over, sat
down in the chair opposite Angelique, and placing one hand on the
knee of her listener, as if to hold her fast, began the terrible
recital.
She gave Angelique a graphic, minute, and not untrue account of all
she had done at Beaumanoir, dwelling with fierce unction on the
marvellous and sudden effects of the aqua tofana, not sparing one
detail of the beauty and innocent looks of her victim; and
repeating, with a mocking laugh, the deceit she had practised upon
her with regard to the bouquet as a gift from the Intendant.
Angelique listened to the terrible tale, drinking it in with eyes,
mouth, and ears. Her countenance changed to a mask of ugliness,
wonderful in one by nature so fair to see. Cloud followed cloud
over her face and eyes as the dread recital went on, and her
imagination accompanied it with vivid pictures of every phase of
the diabolical crime.
When La Corriveau described the presentation of the bouquet as a
gift of Bigot, and the deadly sudden effect which followed its
joyous acceptance, the thoughts of Caroline in her white robe,
stricken as by a thunderbolt, shook Angelique with terrible emotion.
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