Her
eager maid, anxious for the looks of her mistress, insisted on a
little rouge, which Angelique's natural bloom had never before
needed. She submitted, for she intended to look her best to-day,
she said. "Who knows whom I shall fall in with?"
"That is right, my Lady," exclaimed Fanchon admiringly, "no one
could be dressed perfectly as you are and be sick! I pity the
gentleman you meet to-day, that is all! There is murder in your
eye, my Lady!"
Poor Fanchon believed she was only complimenting her mistress, and
at other times her remark would only have called forth a joyous
laugh; now the word seemed like a sharp knife: it cut, and Angelique
did not laugh. She pushed her maid forcibly away from her, and was
on the point of breaking out into some violent exclamation when,
recalled by the amazed look of Fanchon, she turned the subject
adroitly, and asked, "Where is my brother?"
"Gone with the Chevalier de Pean to the Palace, my Lady!" replied
Fanchon, trembling all over, and wondering how she had angered her
mistress.
"How know you that, Fanchon?" asked Angelique, recovering her usual
careless tone.
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