“Think? He thinks you must be the most perfect of your sex! Why, his mind was made up about you, Amélie, before he said a word to me. Indeed, he only just wanted to enjoy the supernal pleasure of hearing me sing the praises of Amélie De Repentigny to the tune composed by himself.”
“Which you seem to have done, Angélique!”
“As musically as Mère St. Borgia when singing vespers in the Ursulines,” was Angélique's flippant reply.
Amélie knew how useless it was to expostulate. She swallowed her mingled pleasure and vexation salt with tears she could not help. She changed the subject by a violent wrench, and asked Angélique when she had last seen Le Gardeur.
“At the Intendant's levee the other day. How like you he is, too, only less amiable!”
Angélique did not respond readily to her friend's question about her brother.
“Less amiable? that is not like my brother. Why do you think him less amiable than me?”
“Because he got angry with me at the ball given in honor of the arrival of the Intendant, and I have not been able to restore him to perfect good humor with me since.”
“Oh, then Le Gardeur completes the trio of those who are proof against your fascinations?” Amélie was secretly glad to hear of the displeasure of Le Gardeur with Angélique.
“Not at all, I hope, Amélie. I don't place Le Gardeur in the same category with my other admirers. But he got offended because I seemed to neglect him a little to cultivate this gay new Intendant. Do you know him?”