seen, in
painting, statuary, or living form, a more beautiful and fascinating
woman.

Angelique accepted his admiration as her due, feeling no thanks, but
looking many.

"The Chevalier Bigot does not lose his politeness, however long he
absents himself!" said she, with a glance like a Parthian arrow well
aimed to strike home.

"I have been hunting at Beaumanoir," replied he extenuatingly; "that
must explain, not excuse, my apparent neglect." Bigot felt that he had
really been a loser by his absence.

"Hunting! indeed!" Angelique affected a touch of surprise, as if she
had not known every tittle of gossip about the gay party and all their
doings at the Chateau. "They say game is growing scarce near the city,
Chevalier," continued she nonchalantly, "and that a hunting party at
Beaumanoir is but a pretty menotomy for a party of pleasure is that
true?"

"Quite true, mademoiselle," replied he, laughing. "The two things are
perfectly compatible,--like a brace of lovers, all the better for being
made one."

"Very gallantly said!" retorted she, with a ripple of dangerous
laughter. "I will carry the comparison no farther. Still, I wager,
Chevalier, that the game is not worth the hunt."

"The play is always worth the candle, in my fancy," said he, with a
glance of meaning; "but there is really good game yet in Beaumanoir,
as you will confess, Mademoiselle, if you will honor our party some day
with your presence."

"Come now, Chevalier," replied she, fixing him mischievously with her
eyes, "tell me, what game do you find in the forest of Beaumanoir?"

"Oh! rabbits, hares, and deer, with now and then a rough bear to try the
mettle of our chasseurs."

"What! no foxes to cheat foolish crows? no wolves to devour pretty Red
Riding Hoods straying in the forest? Come, Chevalier, there is better
game than all that," said she.

"Oh, yes!" he half surmised she was rallying him now--"plenty, but we
don't wind horns after them."

"They say," continued she, "there is much fairer game than bird or beast
in the forest of Beaumanoir, Chevalier." She went on recklessly, "Stray
lambs are picked up by intendants sometimes, and carried tenderly to the
Chateau! The Intendant comprehends a gentleman's devoirs to our sex, I
am sure."

Bigot understood her now, and gave an angry start. Angelique did not
shrink from the temper she had evoked.

"Heavens! how you look, Chevalier!" said she, in a tone of half banter.
"One would think I