Luc and the Baron de St. Castin, caused the dame to suspect at last
that some foul play had been perpetrated, but she dared not speak
openly.
The old woman's suspicions grew with age into certainties, when at
last she chanced to talk with her old fellow servant, Marcele, the
gatekeeper, and learned from him that Bigot and Cadet had left the
Chateau alone on that fatal night. Dame Tremblay was more perplexed
than ever. She talked, she knew not what, but her talk passed into
the traditions of the habitans.
It became the popular belief that a beautiful woman, the mistress of
the powerful Intendant Bigot, had been murdered and buried in the
Chateau of Beaumanoir.
CHAPTER XLIII.
SILK GLOVES OVER BLOODY HANDS.
It was long before Angelique came to herself from the swoon in which
she had been left lying on the floor by La Corriveau. Fortunately
for her it was without discovery. None of the servants happened to
come to her room during its continuance, else a weakness so strange
to her usual hardihood would have become the city's talk before
night, and set all its idle tongues conjecturing or inventing a
reason for it.
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