"Which shall it be?"
"Well, do both,--swear at me and curse the day that I banished Le
Gardeur de Repentigny for your sake, Francois Bigot! If the lady be
gone, where is your promise?"
Bigot burst into a wild laugh, as was his wont when hard-pressed.
He had not, to be sure, made any definite promise to Angelique, but
he had flattered her with hopes of marriage never intended to be
realized.
"I keep my promises to ladies as if I had sworn by St. Dorothy,"
replied he.
"But your promise to me, Bigot! Will you keep it, or do worse?"
asked she, impatiently.
"Keep it or do worse! What mean you, Angelique?" He looked up in
genuine surprise. This was not the usual tone of women towards him.
"I mean that nothing will be better for Francois Bigot than to keep
his promise, nor worse than to break it, to Angelique des Meloises!"
replied she, with a stamp of her foot, as was her manner when
excited.
She thought it safe to use an implied threat, which at any rate
might reach the thought that lay under his heart like a centipede
under a stone which some chance foot turns over.
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