had accused you of murder instead of saving a
fair lady's life in the forest; although woman-killing is no murder I
believe, by the laws of gallantry, as read by gentlemen--of fashion."

Bigot rose up with a hasty gesture of impatience and sat down again.
After all, he thought, what could this girl know about Caroline de St.
Castin? He answered her with an appearance of frankness, deeming that to
be the best policy.

"Yes, Mademoiselle, I one day found a poor suffering woman in the
forest. I took her to the Chateau, where she now is. Many ladies beside
her have been to Beaumanoir. Many more will yet come and go, until I
end my bachelordom and place one there in perpetuity as 'mistress of my
heart and home,' as the song says."

Angelique could coquette in half-meanings with any lady of honor at
Court. "Well, Chevalier, it will be your fault not to find one fit to
place there. They walk every street of the city. But they say this lost
and found lady is a stranger?"

"To me she is--not to you, perhaps, Mademoiselle!"

The fine ear of Angelique detected the strain of hypocrisy in his
speech. It touched a sensitive nerve. She spoke boldly now.

"Some say she is your wife, Chevalier Bigot!" Angelique gave vent to a
feeling long pent-up. She who trifled with men's hearts every day was
indignant at the least symptom of repayment in kind. "They say she is
your wife or, if not your wife, she ought to be, Chevalier,--and will
be, perhaps, one of these fine days, when you have wearied of the
distressed damsels of the city."

It had been better for Bigot, better for Angelique, that these two could
have frankly understood each other. Bigot, in his sudden admiration of
the beauty of this girl, forgot that his object in coming to see her
had really been to promote a marriage, in the interests of the Grand
Company, between her and Le Gardeur. Her witcheries had been too potent
for the man of pleasure. He was himself caught in the net he spread for
another. The adroit bird-catching of Angelique was too much for him in
the beginning: Bigot's tact and consummate heartlessness with women,
might be too much for her in the end. At the present moment he was
fairly dazzled with her beauty, spirit, and seductiveness.

"I am a simple quail," thought he, "to be caught by her piping. Par
Dieu! I am going to make a fool of myself if I do not take care! Such
a woman as this I have not found between Paris and Naples. The man who
gets her, and