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Updated: June 14, 2025
Anne de Beaupre and the silver pitcher for the wedding wine. I saw, or felt, that in Voban I might find now a confederate, if I put my hard case on Bigot's shoulders. "I can't see why she stayed with Bigot," I said tentatively. "Break the dog's leg, it can't go hunting bones mais, non! Holy, how stupid are you English!" "Why doesn't the Intendant lock her up now? She's dangerous to him.
But Louis XV. was capricious and unfaithful in his fancies; he had changed his mistresses, and his policy with them, many times, and might change once more, to the ruin of Bigot and all the dependents of La Pompadour. Bigot's letters by the Fleur-de-Lis were calculated to alarm him.
The Chevalier Bigot's black eye and jolly laugh draw after him all the girls of the city, but not one will catch him! Angelique des Meloises is first in his favor, but I see it is as clear as print in the eye of the Intendant that he will never marry her and you will prevent him, my Lady!" "I? I prevent him!" exclaimed Caroline in amazement.
De Pean seemed to mistrust the possibility of such a piece of disinterestedness on the part of the Intendant. "I will not only commend your suit, but I will give away the bride, and Madame de Pean shall not miss any favor from me which she has deserved as Angelique des Meloises," was Bigot's reply, without changing a muscle of his face. "And your Excellency will give her to me?"
The laughter on her lips was the ebullition of a hot and angry heart, not the play of a joyous, happy spirit. Bigot's refusal of a lettre de cachet had stung her pride to the quick, and excited a feeling of resentment which found its expression in the wish for the return of Le Gardeur. "Why do you desire the return of Le Gardeur?" asked De Pean, hesitatingly.
She was not one to lose her promised reward or miss the chance of so cursed a deed by any untimely avowal of what she knew. So Angelique was doomed to remain in ignorance until too late. She became the dupe of her own passions and the dupe of La Corriveau, who carefully concealed from her a secret so important. Bigot's denial in the Council weighed nothing with her.
Among the gay young seigneurs who had been drawn into the vortex of Bigot's splendid dissipation, was the brave, handsome Le Gardeur de Repentigny a captain of the Royal Marine, a Colonial corps recently embodied at Quebec. In general form and feature Le Gardeur was a manly reflex of his beautiful sister Amelie, but his countenance was marred with traces of debauchery.
"'Twas the crimson one, as quiet as a baby chick, not hanging to ma'm'selle's skirts, but watching and whispering a little now and then and she there in Bigot's palace, and he not knowing it! And maids do not tell him, for they knew the poor wench in better days aho!" I got up with effort and pain, and made to grasp his hand in gratitude, but he drew back, putting his arms behind him.
Presently from the Heights above came the woman's voice again, so piercing that the crowd turned to her. "Francois Bigot is a liar and a traitor!" she cried. "Beware of Francois Bigot! God has cast him out." A dark look came upon Bigot's face; but presently he turned, and gave a sign to some one near the palace. The doors of the courtyard flew open, and out came squad after squad of soldiers.
The light fell brightly on the wall to which his face was turned; how could that be if Bigot's broad shoulders still blocked the loophole? Presently, to assure himself, he called the man by name. He got no answer. "Badelon!" he muttered. "Badelon!" Had he gone, too, the old and faithful? It seemed so, for again no answer came.
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