deceased should go to the survivor. If both died
childless, all was to be applied to the use of
various charities, except a small sum left to
Madame Remonet. Angélique ran into debt, her
husband refused positively to advance or
increase her allowance. Her aunt, professing to be
unable to supply further demands, advised an
application to Mongeorge, upon which
Angélique was compelled to acknowledge that she
was already his debtor for large sums, which
he had heavily involved himself to procure
for her. "If Auguste would only die!" was
the next terrible suggestion. "He is puny and
frail, does not enjoy life, and cannot live to
maturity. Yet he keeps you, who so much need
his money, from a vast deal of enjoyment!"

No more was said on that occasion, but at
subsequent interviews the subject was revived.
Auguste was a boy of thirteen, delicate and
quiet, often and seriously ailing, much neglected
by his aunt and sister, but loved and sedulously
cared for, by an old abbé, who was his tutor.
His health grew worse and worse. Violent
sickness, internal cramps, and racking pains,
soon brought him to the brink of the grave. In
about three months from the time of the first
serious attack, he died. No one suspected foul
play. The boy had been almost unknown to any
one except the servants and his tutor. His
fortune went to Angélique; and she, some time
afterwards, presented her aunt with two thousand
livres and a magnificent Cashmere shawl.

Monsieur Tiquet, somewhat mollified by his
wife's increase of fortune, conceded to her
many of her demands, and relaxed somewhat of
his vigilance. Gradually, Angelique sank so low
in her morality that at last Monsieur Tiquet gave
his porter, who was a Gascon named Cattelain,
strict orders not to permit the egress of his
mistress, unless in company with himself, or on
showing a written order from him. Angélique
adding this man to her list of lovers, still was
free to attend revels and masquerades, until her
husband, discovering the connivance, dismissed
him, and himself kept the keys.

Of course Madame de Remonet was again
taken into council by her pupil, and, in accordance
with her advice, Angélique ceased opposition
to her husband, and endeavoured to regain
his confidence. As if to crown his happiness,
a little girl was now born, and the consequent
seclusion of the young mother gave the president
reason to hope that for the future all was
well. But with Angélique's returning health
returned her taste for pleasure. She was very
affectionate in her manner to her husband, but
she now and then insisted on attending places of
amusement at which he knew she must meet
Mongeorge. Cattelain, although dismissed from
the president's service, was still in that of the
lady, who gave him money, with which he set up
a sort of cabaret in a remote part of the town.
To that house, as was afterwards discovered,
Madame Tiquet frequently went in disguise to
meet Mongeorge and others. About the same
time a famous female fortune-teller was turning
the heads of Paris, and drew—as the spirit-
conjuror now draws—crowds of all ranks to her
séances. One day, Angélique entered the
drawing-room of an acquaintance, where there was
assembled a large party of both sexes, and
displayed so much animation that the hostess asked
if anything particularly pleasant had occurred.
Her answer was afterwards brought in evidence
against her.

"Yes," said she, "I have been to the fortune-
teller, and she has solemnly assured me that I
shall soon be perfectly happy, and freed from
the great plague of my life. Of course I knew
that must be Monsieur Tiquet; so I besought
her to say if I should be soon a widow, as only
then could I be perfectly happy; but she would
do no more than repeat what she had said.
However, the thought that he may soon die is
something to live for."

At this time Monsieur Tiquet was recovering
from an attack of asthma, which had for many
weeks confined him to his room, where he was
attended by a valet, named Servin, as old as
himself, who had lived with him thirty years,
and who, looking with disfavour upon his young
mistress, understood more of her ways than she
supposed. A certain regimen had been
prescribed for the invalid, of which a strong broth,
to be taken at noon, formed a portion. Suddenly
Angélique, once more becoming a domestic
wife, insisted on preparing this broth
herself. Servin had his own views on the subject,
and resolved to oppose stratagem by stratagem.
On the first day of Angélique's acting as cook,
the valet took a pet dog of the president's, a
pretty white spaniel, and shut it into his own
chamber. Taking care to be in the way at the
right moment, he took the broth from her hands
to carry to his master; but on his way to the
sick-room visited his own, and pouring at least
half the contents of the bowl on a plate, set it
before the dog, and again shut him up. When
he reached his master's room he found
Angélique there.

"Where have you delayed?" she asked.

"I spilt some of the soup, madame, and could
not appear before my master till I had changed
my coat, which was splashed."

"Ah!" The cry was from Angélique, and was
caused by Servin, whose foot slipped on the
waxed and slippery margin beyond the carpet,
so that he fell and broke the bowl. Angelique
was enraged, but her anger only convinced the
old man that he was right in his suspicion. Yet
to his astonishment the dog did not suffer, but
continued perfectly well, although he had eaten
the whole portion allotted to him. The valet
was therefore obliged to conclude that no poison
had yet been mixed in the soup. Angélique
continued to prepare it, and Servin persevered in
always taking out a portion for the dog before
he gave it to his master. It was excellent,
and both the dog and his master appeared the
better for it. So things went on for about
three weeks, and then Servin, on taking the
bowl from his mistress one day, fancied that
he discovered a certain nervous agitation in her
manner; in his hearing, too, she ordered her