He and Angelique rode down
the busy streets, receiving salutations on every hand. In the great
square of the market-place Angelique pulled up in front of the
Cathedral.
Why she stopped there would have puzzled herself to explain. It was
not to worship, not to repent of her heinous sin: she neither
repented nor desired to repent. But it seemed pleasant to play at
repentance and put on imaginary sackcloth.
Angelique's brief contact with the fresh, sunny nature of Louise Roy
had sensibly raised her spirits. It lifted the cloud from her brow,
and made her feel more like her former self. The story, told half
in jest by Louise, that she was to marry the Intendant, flattered
her vanity and raised her hopes to the utmost. She liked the city
to talk of her in connection with the Intendant.
The image of Beaumanoir grew fainter and fainter as she knelt down
upon the floor, not to ask pardon for her sin, but to pray for
immunity for herself and the speedy realization of the great object
of her ambition and her crime!
The pealing of the organ, rising and falling in waves of harmony,
the chanting of choristers, and the voice of the celebrant during
the service in honor of St.
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