She felt
certain that if Bigot discovered the murder he would not fail to
reveal it to the Chevalier de Pean, who was understood to be the
depository of all his secrets. She began to cheer up under the
belief that Bigot would never dare accuse any one of a deed which
would be the means of proclaiming his own falseness and duplicity
towards the King and the Marquise de Pompadour.
"I have only to deny all knowledge of it," said she to herself,
"swear to it if need be, and Bigot will not dare to go farther in
the matter. Then will come my time to turn the tables upon him in a
way he little expects! Pshaw!" continued she, glancing at her gay
hat in the mirror, and with her own dainty fingers setting the
feather more airily to her liking. "Bigot is bound fast enough to
me now that she is gone! and when he discovers that I hold his
secret he will not dare meddle with mine."
Angelique, measurably reassured and hopeful of success in her
desperate venture, descended the steps of her mansion, and,
gathering up her robes daintily, mounted her horse, which had long
been chafing in the hands of her groom waiting for his mistress.
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