immortality by the pencil of a Titian. Her dark eyes drew with a
magnetism which attracted men, in spite of themselves, whithersoever
she would lead them. They were never so dangerous as when, in
apparent repose, they sheathed their fascination for a moment, and
suddenly shot a backward glance, like a Parthian arrow, from under
their long eyelashes, that left a wound to be sighed over for many a
day.

The spoiled and petted child of the brave, careless Renaud d'Avesne
des Meloises, of an ancient family in the Nivernois, Angelique grew
up a motherless girl, clever above most of her companions, conscious
of superior charms, always admired and flattered, and, since she
left the Convent, worshipped as the idol of the gay gallants of the
city, and the despair and envy of her own sex. She was a born
sovereign of men, and she felt it. It was her divine right to be
preferred. She trod the earth with dainty feet, and a step aspiring
as that of the fair Louise de La Valliere when she danced in the
royal ballet in the forest of Fontainebleau and stole a king's heart
by the flashes of her pretty feet. Angelique had been indulged by
her father in every caprice, and in the gay world inhaled the
incense of adulation until she regarded it as her right, and
resented passionately when it was withheld.

She was not by nature bad, although vain, selfish, and aspiring.
Her footstool was the hearts of men, and upon it she set hard her
beautiful feet, indifferent to the anguish caused by her capricious
tyranny. She was cold and calculating under the warm passions of a
voluptuous nature. Although many might believe they had won the
favor, none felt sure they had gained the love of this fair,
capricious girl.