"Do not be angry, aunt," replied Fanchon, soothingly. "It was I counselled her to send for you, and I offered to fetch you. My mistress is a high lady, who expects to be still higher,--Mademoiselle des Meloises!
"Mademoiselle Angelique des Meloises,--one hears enough of her! a high lady indeed! who will be low enough at last! A minx as vain as she is pretty, who would marry all the men in New France, and kill all the women, if she could have her way! What in the name of the Sabbat does she want with La Corriveau?"
"She did not call you names, aunt, and please do not say such things of her, for you will frighten me away before I tell my errand.
Mademoiselle Angelique sent this piece of gold as earnest-money to prove that she wants your counsel and advice in an important matter."
Fanchon untied the corner of her handkerchief, and took from it a broad shining louis d'or. 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.
"There are plenty more where it came from, aunt," replied Fanchon.
"Mademoiselle could fill your apron with gold every day of the week if she would: she is to marry the Intendant!"
"Marry the Intendant! ah, indeed! that is why she sends for me so urgently! I see! Marry the Intendant! She will bestow a pot of gold on La Corriveau to accomplish that match!"
"Maybe she would, aunt; I would, myself. But it is not that she wishes to consult you about just now. She lost her jewels at the ball, and wants your help to find them."
"Lost her jewels, eh? Did she say you were to tell me that she had lost her jewels, Fanchon?"
"Yes, aunt, that is what she wants to consult you about," replied Fanchon, with simplicity. But the keen perception of La Corriveau saw that a second purpose lay behind it.
"A likely tale!" muttered she, "that so rich a lady would send for La Corriveau from St. Valier to find a few jewels! But it will do.
I will go with you to the city: I cannot refuse an invitation like that. Gold fetches any woman, Fanchon. It fetches me always. It will fetch you, too, some day, if you are lucky enough to give it the chance."
"I wish it would fetch me now, aunt; but poor girls who live by service and wages have small chance to be sent for in that way! We are glad to get the empty hand without the money. Men are so scarce with this cruel war, that they might easily have a wife to each finger, were it allowed by the law. I heard Dame Tremblay say--and I thought her very right--the Church does not half consider our condition and necessities."
"Dame Tremblay! the Charming Josephine of Lake Beauport! She who would have been a witch, and could not: Satan would not have her!" exclaimed La Corriveau, scornfully. "Is she still housekeeper and bedmaker at Beaumanoir?"
Fanchon was honest enough to feel rather indignant at this speech.
"Don't speak so of her, aunt; she is not bad. Although I ran away from her, and took service with Mademoiselle des Meloises, I will not speak ill of her."
"Why did you run away from Beaumanoir?" asked La Corriveau.
Fanchon reflected a moment upon the mystery of the lady of Beaumanoir, and something checked her tongue, as if it were not safe to tell all she knew to her aunt, who would, moreover, be sure to find out from Angelique herself as much as her mistress wished her to know.
"I did not like Dame Tremblay, aunt," replied she; I preferred to live with Mademoiselle Angelique. She is a lady, a beauty, who dresses to surpass any picture in the book of modes from Paris, which I often looked at on her dressing-table. She allowed me to imitate them, or wear her cast-off dresses, which were better than any other ladies' new ones. I have one of them on. Look, aunt!"
Fanchon spread out very complacently the skirt of a pretty blue robe she wore.
La Corriveau nodded her head in a sort of silent approval, and remarked,--"She is free-handed enough! She gives what costs her nothing, and takes all she can get, and is, after all, a trollop, like the rest of us, Fanchon, who would be very good if there were neither men nor money nor fine clothes in the world, to tempt poor silly women."
"You do say such nasty things, aunt!" exclaimed Fanchon, flashing with indignation. "I will hear no more! I am going into the house to see dear old Uncle Dodier, who has been looking through the window at me for ten minutes past, and dared not come out to speak to me. You are too hard on poor old Uncle Dodier, aunt," said Fanchon, boldly. "If you cannot be kind to him, why did you marry him?"
"Why, I wanted a husband, and he wanted my money, that was all; and I got my bargain, and his too, Fanchon!" and the woman laughed savagely.
"I thought people married to be happy, aunt," replied the girl, persistently.
"Happy! such folly. Satan yokes people together to bring more sinners into the world, and supply fresh fuel for his fires."
"My mistress thinks there is no happiness like a good match," remarked Fanchon; "and I think so, too, aunt. I shall never wait the second time of asking, I assure you, aunt."
"You are a fool, Fanchon," said La Corriveau; "but your mistress deserves to wear the ring of Cleopatra, and to become the mother of witches and harlots for all time. Why did she really send for me?"
The girl crossed herself, and exclaimed, "God forbid, aunt! my mistress is not like that!"
La Corriveau spat at the mention of the sacred name. "But it is in her, Fanchon. It is in all of us! If she is not so already, she will be. But go into the house and see your foolish uncle, while I go prepare for my visit. We will set out at once, Fanchon, for business like that of Angelique des Meloises cannot wait."