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Updated: June 9, 2025
She knew by a sure instinct whose it was, and rushed down to admit her. They met at the door, and without a word spoken, one eager glance of Angelique at the dark face of La Corriveau drank in the whole fatal story. Caroline de St. Castin was dead! Her rival in the love of the Intendant was beyond all power of rivalry now!
She placed it in the hand of La Corriveau, whose long fingers clutched it like the talons of a harpy. Of all the evil passions of this woman, the greed for money was the most ravenous. "It is long since I got a piece of gold like that to cross my hand with, Fanchon!" said she, looking at it admiringly and spitting on it for good luck.
A plot of green grass, ill kept and deformed, with noxious weeds, dock, fennel, thistle, and foul stramonium, was surrounded by a rough wall of loose stones, forming the lawn, such as it was, where, under a tree, seated in an armchair, was a solitary woman, whom Fanchon recognized as her aunt, Marie Josephte Dodier, surnamed La Corriveau.
Dame Tremblay had an unlimited faith in the superstitions of her age. "I will do all you wish, dame, but you must allow me to see her alone," replied the crone, who felt she was thus opening the door to La Corriveau. "To be sure I will, that is, if she will consent to be seen, for she has in some things a spirit of her own! I am afraid to push her too closely!
"How, Mademoiselle? you put the death-mark upon one you do not know?" "I do not know her name. Nevertheless, La Corriveau, that gold, and ten times as much, are yours, if you relieve me of the torment of knowing that the secret chamber of Beaumanoir contains a woman whose life is death to all my hopes, and disappointment to all my plans." The mention of Beaumanoir startled La Corriveau.
I could wish it were another than she, for oh, she spoke to me the sweetest I was ever spoken to since I came into the world." Angelique ground her teeth with anger. "What did you do, La Corriveau? Did you not wish her dead? Did you think the Intendant or any man could not help loving her to the rejection of any other woman in the world? What did you do?" "Do?
Lizette had been sent away until the morrow; Angelique sat alone and expectant of the arrival of La Corriveau. The gay dress in which she had outshone all her sex at the ball on the previous night lay still in a heap upon the floor, where last night she had thrown it aside, like the robe of innocence which once invested her.
The visitant, whoever she might be, professed to be a friend, and could, she thought, have no motive to harm her. Caroline, with a sudden impulse, pushed aside the fastening of the door, and uttering the words, "Dieu! protege moi!" stood face to face with La Corriveau.
The reputation which the tower had of being haunted made the servants very shy of entering it, even in the day-time; and the man was considered bold indeed who came near it after dark. With her candle in her hand, La Corriveau descended slowly into the gloomy vault. It was a large cavern of stone, a very habitation of darkness, which seemed to swallow up the feeble light she carried.
La Corriveau withdrew her hand from the basket and replied, "He is on his way to New France in search of you. He knows you are here, lady." "In Beaumanoir? Oh, it cannot be! No one knows I am here!" exclaimed Caroline, clasping her hands in an impulse of alarm. "Yes, more than you suppose, lady, else how did I know?
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