"Who says I wish to see him degraded as a gentleman? and I did not reject him as a lover! not finally--that is, I did not wholly mean it. When I sent to invite his return from Tilly it was out of friendship,--love, if you will, Amelie, but from no desire that he should plunge into fresh dissipation."
"I believe you, Angelique! You could not, if you had the heart of a woman loving him ever so little, desire to see him fall into the clutches of men who, with the wine-cup in one hand and the dice-box in the other, will never rest until they ruin him, body, soul, and estate."
"Before God, I never desired it, and to prove it, I have cursed De Pean to his face, and erased Lantagnac from my list of friends, for coming to show me the money he had won from Le Gardeur while intoxicated. Lantagnac brought me a set of pearls which he had purchased out of his winnings. I threw them into the fire and would have thrown him after them, had I been a man! 'fore God, I would, Amelie! I may have wounded Le Gardeur, but no other man or woman shall injure him with my consent."
Angelique spoke this in a tone of sincerity that touched somewhat the heart of Amelie, although the aberrations and inconsistencies of this strange girl perplexed her to the utmost to understand what she really felt.
"I think I may trust you, Angelique, to help me to rescue him from association with the Palace?" said Amelie, gently, almost submissively, as if she half feared a refusal.
"I desire nothing more," replied Angelique. "You have little faith in me, I see that,"--Angelique wiped her eyes, in which a shade of moisture could be seen,--"but I am sincere in my friendship for Le Gardeur. The Virgin be my witness, I never wished his injury, even when I injured him most. He sought me in marriage, and I was bound to another."
"You are to marry the Intendant, they say. I do not wonder, and yet I do wonder, at your refusing my brother, even for him."
"Marry the Intendant! Yes, it is what fools and some wise people say. I never said it myself, Amelie."
"But you mean it, nevertheless; and for no other would you have thrown over Le Gardeur de Repentigny."
"I did not throw him over," she answered, indignantly. "But why dispute? I cannot, Amelie, say more, even to you! I am distraught with cares and anxieties, and know not which way to turn."
"Turn here, where I turn in my troubles, Angelique!" replied Amelie, moving closer to the altar. "Let us pray for Le Gardeur."
Angelique obeyed mechanically, and the two girls prayed silently for a few moments, but how differently in spirit and feeling! The one prayed for her brother,--the other tried to pray, but it was more for herself, for safety in her crime and success in her deep-laid scheming. A prayer for Le Gardeur mingled with Angelique's devotions, giving them a color of virtue. Her desire for his welfare was sincere enough, and she thought it disinterested of herself to pray for him.
Suddenly Angelique started up as if stung by a wasp. "I must take leave of you, my Amelie," said she; "I am glad I met you here. I trust you understand me now, and will rely on my being as a sister to Le Gardeur, to do what I can to restore him perfect to you and the good Lady de Tilly."
Amelie was touched. She embraced Angelique and kissed her; yet so cold and impassive she felt her to be, a shiver ran through her as she did so. It was as if she had touched the dead, and she long afterwards thought of it. There was a mystery in this strange girl that Amelie could not fathom nor guess the meaning of. They left the Cathedral together. It was now quite empty, save of a lingering penitent or two kneeling at the shrines. Angelique and Amelie parted at the door, the one eastward, the other westward, and, carried away by the divergent currents of their lives, they never met again.
