“Pshaw! not when it would all rebound upon yourself. Besides, if you want vengeance, take a man's revenge upon a woman; you can do that! It will be better than killing her, much more pleasant, and quite as effectual.”
Bigot looked as Cadet said this and laughed: “You would send her to the Parc aux cerfs, eh, Cadet? Par Dieu! she would sit on the throne in six months!”
“No, I do not mean the Parc aux cerfs, but the Château of Beaumanoir. But you are in too ill humor to joke to-day, Bigot.” Cadet resumed his pipe with an air of nonchalance.
“I never was in a worse humor in my life, Cadet! I feel that I have a padlock upon every one of my five senses; and I cannot move hand or foot in this business.”
“Right, Bigot, do not move hand or foot, eye or tongue, in it. I tell you the slightest whisper of Caroline's life or death in your house, reaching the ears of Philibert or La Corne St. Luc, will bring them to Beaumanoir with warrants to search for her. They will pick the Château to pieces stone by stone. They will drag Caroline out of her grave, and the whole country will swear you murdered her, and that I helped you, and with appearances so strong against us that the mothers who bore us would not believe in our innocence! Damn the women! The burying of that girl was the best deed I did for one of the sex in my life, but it will be the worst if you breath one word of it to Angélique des Meloises, or to any other person living. I am not ready to lose my head yet, Bigot, for the sake of any woman, or even for you!”
The Intendant was staggered by the vehemence of Cadet, and impressed by the force of his remarks. It was hard to sit down quietly and condone such a crime, but he saw clearly the danger of pushing inquiry in any direction without turning suspicion upon himself. He boiled with indignation. He fumed and swore worse than his wont when angry, but Cadet looked on quietly, smoking his pipe, waiting for the storm to calm down.
“You were never in a woman's clutches so tight before, Bigot,” continued Cadet. “If you let La Pompadour suspect one hair of your head in this matter, she will spin a cart-rope out of it that will drag you to the Place de Grève.”
“Reason tells me that what you say is true, Cadet,” replied Bigot, gloomily.
“To be sure; but is not Angélique a clever witch to bind François Bigot neck and heels in that way, after fairly outwitting and running him down?”
Cadet's cool comments drove Bigot beside himself. “I will not stand it; by St. Maur! she shall pay for all this! I, who have caught women all my life, to be caught by one thus! she shall pay for it!”