Grand passions
were grand follies in Angelique's estimation, which she was less
capable of appreciating than even her maid; but flirtation and
coquetry, skin-deep only, she could understand, and relished beyond
all other enjoyments. It was just now like medicine to her racking
thoughts to listen to Fanchon's shallow gossip.
She had done what she had done, she reflected, and it could not be
undone! why should she give way to regret, and lose the prize for
which she had staked so heavily? She would not do it! No, par
Dieu! She had thrown Le Gardeur to the fishes for the sake of the
Intendant, and had done that other deed! She shied off from the
thought of it as from an uncouth thing in the dark, and began to
feel shame of her weakness at having fainted at the tale of La
Corriveau.
The light talk of Fanchon while dressing the long golden hair of her
mistress and assisting her to put on a new riding-dress and the
plumed hat fresh from Paris, which she had not yet displayed in
public, did much to restore her equanimity.
Her face had, however, not recovered from its strange pallor.
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