"What trick has she played upon me?" repeated Le Gardeur, with a touch of anger.

"Why, she has jilted you, and now flies at higher game, and nothing but a prince of the blood will satisfy her!"

"Does she say that, or do you invent it?" Le Gardeur was almost choking with angry feelings. Emeric cared little what he said, drunk or sober.

He replied gravely,--

"Oh, all the women in the city say she said it! But you know, Le Gardeur, women will lie of one another faster than a man can count a hundred by tens."

De Pean, while enjoying the vexation of Le Gardeur, feared that the banter of Emeric might have an ill effect on his scheme. "I do not believe it, Le Gardeur;" said he, "Angelique is too true a woman to say what she means to every jealous rival. The women hope she has jilted you. That counts one more chance for them, you know! Is not that feminine arithmetic, Le Mercier?" asked he.

"It is at the Friponne," replied Le Mercier, laughing. "But the man who becomes debtor to Angelique des Meloises will never, if I know her, be discharged out of her books, even if he pay his debt."

"Ay, they say she never lets a lover go, or a friend either," replied De Pean. "I have proof to convince Le Gardeur that Angelique has not jilted him. Emeric reports women's tattle, nothing more."

Le Gardeur was thoroughly roused. "Par Dieu!" exclaimed he, "my affairs are well talked over in the city, I think! Who gave man or woman the right to talk of me thus?"

"No one gave them the right. But the women claim it indefeasibly from Eve, who commenced talking of Adam's affairs with Satan the first time her man's back was turned."

"Pshaw! Angelique des Meloises is as sensible as she is beautiful: she never said that! No, par Dieu! she never said to a man or woman that she had jilted me, or gave reason for others to say so!"

Le Gardeur in his vexation poured out with nervous hand a large glass of pure brandy and drank it down. It had an instant effect. His forehead flushed, and his eyes dilated with fresh fire. "She never said that!"

repeated he fiercely. "I would swear it on my mother's head, she never did! and would kill any man who would dare affirm it of her!"

"Right! the way to win a woman is never to give her up," answered De Pean. "Hark you, Le Gardeur, all the city knows that she favored you more than any of the rest of her legion of admirers. Why are you moping away your time here at Tilly when you ought to be running down your game in the city?"

"My Atalanta is too fleet of foot for me, De Pean," replied Le Gardeur.

"I have given up the chase. I have not the luck of Hippomanes."

"That is, she is too fast!" said De Pean mockingly. "But have you thrown a golden apple at her feet to stop your runaway nymph?"

"I have thrown myself at her feet, De Pean! and in vain," said Le Gardeur, gulping down another cup of brandy.

De Pean watched the effect of the deep potations which Le Gardeur now poured down to quench the rising fires kindled in his breast. "Come here, Le Gardeur," said he; "I have a message for you which I would not deliver before, lest you might be angry."

De Pean led him into a recess of the room. "You are wanted in the city,"

whispered he. "Angelique sent this little note by me. She put it in my hand as I was embarking for Tilly, and blushed redder than a rose as she did so. I promised to deliver it safely to you."

It was a note quaintly folded in a style Le Gardeur recognized well, inviting him to return to the city. Its language was a mixture of light persiflage and tantalizing coquetry,--she was dying of the dullness of the city! The late ball at the Palace had been a failure, lacking the presence of Le Gardeur! Her house was forlorn without the visits of her dear friend, and she wanted his trusty counsel in an affair of the last importance to her welfare and happiness!

"That girl loves you, and you may have her for the asking!" continued De Pean, as Le Gardeur sat crumpling the letter up in his hand. De Pean watched his countenance with the eye of a basilisk.

"Do you think so?" asked Le Gardeur eagerly. "But no, I have no more faith in woman; she does not mean it!"

"But if she does mean it, would you go, Le Gardeur?"

"Would I go?" replied he, excitedly. "Yes, I would go to the lowest pit in hell for her! But why are you taunting me, De Pean!"

"I taunt you? Read her note again! She wants your trusty counsel in an affair of the last importance to her welfare and happiness. You know what is the affair of last importance to a woman! Will you refuse her now, Le Gardeur?"

"No, par Dieu! I can refuse her nothing; no, not if she asked me for my head, although I know it is but mockery."

"Never mind! Then you will return with us to the city? We start at daybreak."

"Yes, I will go with you, De Pean; you have made me drunk, and I am willing to stay drunk till I leave Amelie and my aunt and Heloise, up at the Manor House. Pierre Philibert, he will be angry that I leave him, but he can follow, and they can all follow! I hate myself for it, De Pean! But Angelique des Meloises is to me more than creature or Creator.

It is a sin to love a woman as I love her, De Pean!"

De Pean fairly writhed before the spirit he evoked. He was not so sure of his game but that it might yet be lost. He knew Angelique's passionate impulses, and he thought that no woman could resist such devotion as that of Le Gardeur.

He kept down his feelings, however. He saw that Le Gardeur was ripe for ruin. They returned to the table and drank still more freely. Dice and cards were resumed; fresh challenges were thrown out; Emeric and Le Mercier were already deep in a game; money was pushed to and fro. The contagion fastened like a plague upon Le Gardeur, who sat down at the table, drew forth a full purse, and pulling up every anchor of restraint, set sail on the flood-tide of drinking and gaming which lasted without ceasing until break of day.

De Pean never for a moment lost sight of his scheme for the abduction of Le Gardeur. He got ready for departure, and with a drunken rush and a broken song the four gallants, with unwashed faces and disordered clothes, staggered into their canoe and with a shout bade the boatmen start.

The hardy canotiers were ready for departure. They headed their long canoes down the flowing river, dashed their paddles into the water just silvered with the rays of the rising sun, and shot down stream towards the city of Quebec.

De Pean, elate with his success, did not let the gaiety of the party flag for a moment during their return. They drank, sang, and talked balderdash and indecencies in a way to bring a look of disgust upon the cheeks of the rough boatmen.

Much less sober than when they left Tilly, the riotous party reached the capital. The canotiers with rapid strokes of the paddle passed the high cliffs and guarded walls, and made for the quay of the Friponne, De Pean forcing silence upon his companions as they passed the Sault au Matelot, where a crowd of idle boatmen hailed them with volleys of raillery, which only ceased when the canoe was near enough for them to see whom it contained. They were instantly silent. The rigorous search made by order of the Intendant after the late rioters, and the summary punishment inflicted upon all who had been convicted, had inspired a careful avoidance of offence toward Bigot and the high officers of his staff.

De Pean landed quietly, few caring to turn their heads too often towards him. Le Gardeur, wholly under his control, staggered out of the canoe, and, taking his arm, was dragged rather than led up to the Palace, where Bigot greeted the party with loud welcome. Apartments were assigned to Le Gardeur, as to a most honored guest in the Palace. Le Gardeur de Repentigny was finally and wholly in the power of the Intendant.

Bigot looked triumphant, and congratulated De Pean on the success of his mission. "We will keep him now!" said he. "Le Gardeur must never draw a sober breath again until we have done with him!"

De Pean looked knowingly at Bigot; "I understand," said he; "Emeric and Le Mercier will drink him blind, and Cadet, Varin, and the rest of us will rattle the dice like hail. We must pluck the pigeon to his last feather before he will feel desperate enough to play your game, Chevalier."

"As you like, De Pean, about that," replied Bigot; "only mind that he does not leave the Palace. His friends will run after him. That accursed Philibert will be here; on your life, do not let him see him! Hark you!

When he comes, make Le Gardeur affront him by some offensive reply to his inquiry. You can do it."

De Pean took the hint, and acted upon it by forging that infamous card in the name of Le Gardeur, and sending it as his reply to Pierre Philibert.

CHAPTER XXXIX. MeRE MALHEUR.

La Corriveau, eager to commence her work of wickedness, took up her abode at the house of her ancient friend, Mere Malheur, whither she went on the night of her first interview with Angelique.

It was a small house, built of uncut stones, with rough stone steps and lintels, a peaked roof, and low overhanging eaves, hiding itself under the shadow of the cliff, so closely that it seemed to form a part of the rock itself.

Its sole inmate, an old crone who had reached the last degree of woman's ugliness and woman's heartlessness,--Mere Malheur--sold fair winds to superstitious sailors and good luck to hunters and voyageurs. She was not a little suspected of dabbling in other forbidden things. Half believing in her own impostures, she regarded La Corriveau with a feeling akin to worship, who in return for this devotion imparted to her a few secrets of minor importance in her diabolic arts.

La Corriveau was ever a welcome guest at the house of Mere Malheur, who feasted her lavishly, and served her obsequiously, but did not press with undue curiosity to learn her business in the city. The two women understood one another well enough not to pry too closely into each other's secrets.

On this occasion La Corriveau was more than usually reserved, and while Mere Malheur eagerly detailed to her all the doings and undoings that had happened in her circle of acquaintance, she got little information in return. She shrewdly concluded that La Corriveau had business on hand which would not bear to be spoken of.

"When you need my help, ask for it without scruple, Dame Dodier," said the old crone. "I see you have something on hand that may need my aid. I would go into the fire to serve you, although I would not burn my finger for any other woman in the world, and you know it."

"Yes, I know it, Mere Malheur," La Corriveau spoke with an air of superiority, "and you say rightly: I have something on hand which I cannot accomplish alone, and I need your help, although I cannot tell you yet how or against whom."