La Corriveau snatched the box off the table and held it to her bosom. Angélique continued, in a monotonous tone, as one conning a lesson by rote,—“Use it prudently. Do not seem to the world to be suddenly rich: it might be inquired into. I have thought of everything during the past night, and I remember I had to tell you that when I gave you the gold. Use it prudently! Something else, too, I was to tell you, but I think not of it at this moment.”
“Thanks, and no thanks, Mademoiselle!” replied La Corriveau, in a hard tone. “Thanks for the reward so fully earned. No thanks for your faint heart that robs me of my well-earned meed of applause for a work done so artistically and perfectly that La Brinvilliers, or La Borgia herself, might envy me, a humble paysanne of St. Valier!”
La Corriveau looked proudly up as she said this, for she felt herself to be anything but a humble paysanne. She nourished a secret pride in her heart over the perfect success of her devilish skill in poisoning.
“I give you whatever praise you desire,” replied Angélique, mechanically. “But you have not told me how it was done. Sit down again,” continued she, with a touch of her imperative manner, “and tell me all and every incident of what you have done.”
“You will not like to hear it. Better be content with the knowledge that your rival was a dangerous and a beautiful one.” Angélique looked up at this. “Better be content to know that she is dead, without asking any more.”
“No, you shall tell me everything. I cannot rest unless I know all!”
“Nor after you do know all will you rest!” replied La Corriveau slightingly, for she despised the evident trepidation of Angélique.
“No matter! you shall tell me. I am calm now.” Angélique made a great effort to appear calm while she listened to the tale of tragedy in which she had played so deep a part.
La Corriveau, observing that the gust of passion was blown over, sat down in the chair opposite Angélique, and placing one hand on the knee of her listener, as if to hold her fast, began the terrible recital.
She gave Angélique a graphic, minute, and not untrue account of all she had done at Beaumanoir, dwelling with fierce unction on the marvellous and sudden effects of the aqua tofana, not sparing one detail of the beauty and innocent looks of her victim; and repeating, with a mocking laugh, the deceit she had practised upon her with regard to the bouquet as a gift from the Intendant.