"And the worst thanks of His Excellency the Count! It was bold of the Italian to beard the Governor in that manner! But La Galissoniere is too great a philosopher to mind a priest!" was the half-scoffing reply of Le Mercier.

"Is he? I do not think so, Le Mercier. I hate them myself, but egad! I am not philosophic enough to let them know it. One may do so in Paris, but not in New France. Besides, the Jesuits are just now our fast friends, and it does not do to quarrel with your supporters."

"True, D'Estebe! We get no help from the Recollets. Look yonder at Brothers Ambrose and Daniel! They would like to tie Padre Monti neck and heels with the cords of St. Francis, and bind him over to keep the peace towards Port Royal; but the gray gowns are afraid of the black robes.

Padre Monti knew they would not catch the ball when he threw it. The Recollets are all afraid to hurl it back."

"Not all," was the reply; "the Reverend Father de Berey would have thrown it back with a vengeance. But I confess, Le Mercier, the Padre is a bold fellow to pitch into the Honnetes Gens the way he does. I did not think he would have ventured upon it here in the market, in face of so many habitans, who swear by the Bourgeois Philibert."

The bold denunciations by the preacher against the Honnetes Gens and against the people's friend and protector, the Bourgeois Philibert, caused a commotion in the crowd of habitans, who began to utter louder and louder exclamations of dissent and remonstrance. A close observer would have noticed angry looks and clenched fists in many parts of the crowd, pressing closer and closer round the platform.

The signs of increasing tumult in the crowd did not escape the sharp eyes of Father Glapion, who, seeing that the hot-blooded Italian was overstepping the bounds of prudence in his harangue, called him by name, and with a half angry sign brought his sermon suddenly to a close.

Padre Monti obeyed with the unquestioning promptness of an automaton. He stopped instantly, without rounding the period or finishing the sentence that was in his mouth.

His flushed and ardent manner changed to the calmness of marble as, lifting up his hands with a devout oremus, he uttered a brief prayer and left the puzzled people to finish his speech and digest at leisure his singular sermon.

CHAPTER L. "BLESSED THEY WHO DIE DOING THY WILL."

It was the practice of the Bourgeois Philibert to leave his counting-room to walk through the market-place, not for the sake of the greetings he met, although he received them from every side, nor to buy or sell on his own account, but to note with quick, sympathizing eye the poor and needy and to relieve their wants.

Especially did he love to meet the old, the feeble, the widow, and the orphan, so numerous from the devastation of the long and bloody war.

The Bourgeois had another daily custom which he observed with unfailing regularity. His table in the House of the Golden Dog was set every day with twelve covers and dishes for twelve guests, "the twelve apostles,"

as he gayly used to say, "whom I love to have dine with me, and who come to my door in the guise of poor, hungry, and thirsty men, needing meat and drink. Strangers to be taken in, and sick wanting a friend." If no other guests came he was always sure of the "apostles" to empty his table, and, while some simple dish sufficed for himself, he ordered the whole banquet to be given away to the poor. His choice wines, which he scarcely permitted himself to taste, were removed from his table and sent to the Hotel Dieu, the great convent of the Nuns Hospitalieres, for the use of the sick in their charge, while the Bourgeois returned thanks with a heart more content than if kings had dined at his table.

To-day was the day of St. Martin, the anniversary of the death of his wife, who still lived in his memory fresh as upon the day he took her away as his bride from her Norman home. Upon every recurrence of that day, and upon some other special times and holidays, his bounty was doubled, and the Bourgeois made preparations, as he jocularly used to say, "not only for the twelve apostles, but for the seventy disciples as well!"

He had just dressed himself with scrupulous neatness in the fashion of a plain gentleman, as was his wont, without a trace of foppery. With his stout gold-headed cane in his hand, he was descending the stairs to go out as usual to the market, when Dame Rochelle accosted him in the hall.

Her eyes and whole demeanor wore an expression of deep anxiety as the good dame looked up in the face of the Bourgeois.

"Do not go to the market to-day, dear master!" said she, beseechingly; "I have been there myself and have ordered all we need for the due honor of the day."

"Thanks, good dame, for remembering the blessed anniversary, but you know I am expected in the market. It is one of my special days. Who is to fill the baskets of the poor people who feel a delicacy about coming for alms to the door, unless I go? Charity fulfills its mission best when it respects the misfortune of being poor in the persons of its recipients. I must make my round of the market, good dame."

"And still, dear master, go not to-day; I never asked you before; I do this time. I fear some evil this morning!"

The Bourgeois looked at her inquiringly. He knew the good dame too well not to be sure she had some weighty reason for her request.

"What particularly moves you to this singular request, Dame Rochelle?"

asked he.

"A potent reason, master, but it would not weigh a grain with you as with me. There is this morning a wild spirit afloat,--people's minds have been excited by a sermon from one of the college fathers. The friends of the Intendant are gathered in force, they say, to clear the market of the Honnetes Gens. A disturbance is impending. That, master, is one reason. My other is a presentiment that some harm will befall you if you go to the market in the midst of such excitement."

"Thanks, good dame," replied the Bourgeois calmly, "both for your information and your presentiment; but they only furnish an additional reason why I should go to try to prevent any disturbance among my fellow-citizens."

"Still, master, you see not what I see, and hear not what I hear, and would not believe it did I tell you! I beseech you, go not to-day!"

exclaimed she imploringly, clasping her hands in the eagerness of her appeal.

"Good dame," replied he, "I deeply respect your solicitude, but I could not, without losing all respect for myself as a gentleman, stay away out of any consideration of impending danger. I should esteem it my duty all the more to go, if there be danger, which I cannot believe."

"Oh, that Pierre were here to accompany you! But at least take some servants with you, master," implored the dame, persisting in her request.

"Good dame, I cannot consult fear when I have duty to perform; besides, I am in no danger. I have enemies enough, I know; but he would be a bold man who would assail the Bourgeois Philibert in the open market-place of Quebec."

"Yet there may be such a bold man, master," replied she. "There are many such men who would consider they did the Intendant and themselves good service by compassing your destruction!"

"May be so, dame; but I should be a mark of scorn for all men if I evaded a duty, small or great, through fear of the Intendant or any of his friends."

"I knew my appeal would be in vain, master, but forgive my anxiety. God help you! God defend you!"

She looked at him fixedly for a moment. He saw her features were quivering with emotion and her eyes filled with tears.

"Good dame," said he kindly, taking her hand, "I respect your motives, and will so far show my regard for your forecast of danger as to take my sword, which, after a good conscience, is the best friend a gentleman can have to stand by him in peril. Please bring it to me."

"Willingly, master, and may it be like the sword of the cherubim, to guard and protect you to-day!"

She went into the great hall for the rapier of the Bourgeois, which he only wore on occasions of full dress and ceremony. He took it smilingly from her hand, and, throwing the belt over his shoulder, bade Dame Rochelle good-by, and proceeded to the market.

The dame looked earnestly after him until he turned the corner of the great Cathedral, when, wiping her eyes, she went into the house and sat down pensively for some minutes.

"Would that Pierre had not gone to St. Ann's to-day!" cried she. "My master! my noble, good master! I feel there is evil abroad for him in the market to-day." She turned, as was her wont in time of trouble, to the open Bible that ever lay upon her table, and sought strength in meditation upon its sacred pages.

There was much stir in the market when the Bourgeois began his accustomed walk among the stalls, stopping to converse with such friends as he met, and especially with the poor and infirm, who did not follow him--he hated to be followed,--but who stood waiting his arrival at certain points which he never failed to pass. The Bourgeois knew that his poor almsmen would be standing there, and he would no more avoid them than he would avoid the Governor.

A group of girls very gaily dressed loitered through the market, purchasing bouquets of the last of autumnal flowers, and coquetting with the young men of fashion who chose the market-place for their morning promenade, and who spent their smiles and wit freely, and sometimes their money, upon the young ladies they expected to find there.

This morning the Demoiselles Grandmaison and Hebert were cheapening immortelles and dry flowers to decorate their winter vases,--a pleasant fashion, not out of date in the city at the present day.

The attention of these young ladies was quite as much taken up with the talk of their cavaliers as with their bargaining when a quick exclamation greeted them from a lady on horseback, accompanied by the Chevalier de Pean. She drew bridle sharply in front of the group, and leaning down from her saddle gave her hand to the ladies, bidding them good morning in a cheery voice which there was no mistaking, although her face was invisible behind her veil. It was Angelique des Meloises, more gay and more fascinating than ever.

She noticed two gentlemen in the group. "Oh, pardon me, Messieurs Le Mercier and d'Estebe!" said she. "I did not perceive you. My veil is so in the way!" She pushed it aside coquettishly, and gave a finger to each of the gentlemen, who returned her greeting with extreme politeness.

"Good morning! say you, Angelique?" exclaimed Mademoiselle Hebert; "it is a good noon. You have slept rarely! How bright and fresh you look, darling!"

"Do I not!" laughed Angelique in reply. "It is the morning air and a good conscience make it! Are you buying flowers? I have been to Sillery for mine!" said she, patting her blooming cheeks with the end of her riding-whip. She had no time for further parley, for her attention was suddenly directed by De Pean to some stir upon the other side of the market, with an invitation to her to ride over and see what was the matter. Angelique at once wheeled her horse to accompany De Pean.

The group of girls felt themselves eclipsed and overborne by the queenly airs of Angelique, and were glad when she moved off, fearing that by some adroit manoeuvre she would carry off their cavaliers. It needed but a word, as they knew, to draw them all after her.

Angelique, under the lead of De Pean, rode quickly towards the scene of confusion, where men were gesticulating fiercely and uttering loud, angry words such as usually precede the drawing of swords and the rush of combatants.

To her surprise, she recognized Le Gardeur de Repentigny, very drunk and wild with anger, in the act of leaping off his horse with oaths of vengeance against some one whom she could not distinguish in the throng.

Le Gardeur had just risen from the gaming-table, where he had been playing all night. He was maddened with drink and excited by great losses, which in his rage he called unfair.

Colonel St. Remy had rooked him at piquet, he said, and refused him the chance of an honorable gamester to win back some part of his losses. His antagonist had left the Palace like a sneak, and he was riding round the city to find him, and horsewhip him if he would not fight like a gentleman.