She replied, however, with the assurance she could so well assume,
"Thanks, Bigot; I did not speak from jealousy. I only asked for
justice and the fulfilment of your promise to send her away."
"But I did not send her away. She has gone away, I know not
whither,--gone, do you mind me, Angelique? I would give half my
possessions to know who helped her to ESCAPE--yes, that is the
word--from Beaumanoir."
Angelique had expected a burst of passion from Bigot; she had
prepared herself for it by diligent rehearsal of how she would
demean herself under every possible form of charge, from bare
innuendo to direct impeachment of herself.
Keenly as Bigot watched Angelique, he could detect no sign of
confusion in her. She trembled in her heart, but her lips wore
their old practised smile. Her eyes opened widely, looking
surprise, not guilt, as she shook him by the sleeve or coquettishly
pulled his hair, asking if he thought that "she had stolen away his
lady-love!"
Bigot though only half deceived, tried to persuade himself of her
innocence, and left her after an hour's dalliance with the half
belief that she did not really merit the grave suspicions he had
entertained of her.
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