“Angélique!” said he, “this is perfect madness; what means this burst of anger? Do you doubt the sincerity of my love for you?”
“I do, Bigot! I doubt it, and I deny it. So long as you keep a mistress concealed at Beaumanoir, your pledge to me is false and your love an insult.”
“You are too impetuous and too imperious, Angélique! I have promised you she shall be removed from Beaumanoir, and she shall—”
“Whither, and when?”
“To the city, and in a few days: she can live there in quiet seclusion. I cannot be cruel to her, Angélique.”
“But you can be cruel to me, Bigot, and will be, unless you exercise the power which I know is placed in your hands by the King himself.”
“What is that? to confiscate her lands and goods if she had any?”
“No, to confiscate her person! Issue a lettre de cachet and send her over sea to the Bastile.”
Bigot was irritated at this suggestion, and his irritation was narrowly watched by Angélique.
“I would rather go to the Bastile myself!” exclaimed he; “besides, the King alone issues lettres de cachet: it is a royal prerogative, only to be used in matters of State.”