CHAPTER L. "BLESSED THEY WHO DIE DOING THY WILL."
It was the practice of the Bourgeois Philibert to leave hiscounting-room to walk through the market-place, not for the sake of thegreetings he met, although he received them from every side, nor to buyor sell on his own account, but to note with quick, sympathizing eye thepoor and needy and to relieve their wants.
Especially did he love to meet the old, the feeble, the widow, and theorphan, so numerous from the devastation of the long and bloody war.
The Bourgeois had another daily custom which he observed with unfailingregularity. His table in the House of the Golden Dog was set every daywith 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 cometo my door in the guise of poor, hungry, and thirsty men, needing meatand drink. Strangers to be taken in, and sick wanting a friend." Ifno other guests came he was always sure of the "apostles" to empty histable, and, while some simple dish sufficed for himself, he ordered thewhole banquet to be given away to the poor. His choice wines, which hescarcely permitted himself to taste, were removed from his table andsent to the Hotel Dieu, the great convent of the Nuns Hospitalieres, forthe use of the sick in their charge, while the Bourgeois returned thankswith 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 hiswife, who still lived in his memory fresh as upon the day he took heraway as his bride from her Norman home. Upon every recurrence of thatday, and upon some other special times and holidays, his bounty wasdoubled, and the Bourgeois made preparations, as he jocularly used tosay, "not only for the twelve apostles, but for the seventy disciples aswell!"
He had just dressed himself with scrupulous neatness in the fashion ofa plain gentleman, as was his wont, without a trace of foppery. With hisstout gold-headed cane in his hand, he was descending the stairs to goout 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 thegood 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 honorof the day."
"Thanks, good dame, for remembering the blessed anniversary, but youknow I am expected in the market. It is one of my special days. Who isto fill the baskets of the poor people who feel a delicacy about comingfor alms to the door, unless I go? Charity fulfills its mission bestwhen it respects the misfortune of being poor in the persons of itsrecipients. I must make my round of the market, good dame."
"And still, dear master, go not to-day; I never asked you before; I dothis time. I fear some evil this morning!"
The Bourgeois looked at her inquiringly. He knew the good dame too wellnot 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 aswith me. There is this morning a wild spirit afloat,--people's mindshave been excited by a sermon from one of the college fathers. Thefriends of the Intendant are gathered in force, they say, to clear themarket of the Honnetes Gens. A disturbance is impending. That, master,is one reason. My other is a presentiment that some harm will befall youif you go to the market in the midst of such excitement."
"Thanks, good dame," replied the Bourgeois calmly, "both for yourinformation and your presentiment; but they only furnish an additionalreason why I should go to try to prevent any disturbance among myfellow-citizens."
"Still, master, you see not what I see, and hear not what I hear, andwould not believe it did I tell you! I beseech you, go not to-day!"exclaimed she imploringly, clasping her hands in the eagerness of herappeal.
"Good dame," replied he, "I deeply respect your solicitude, but I couldnot, without losing all respect for myself as a gentleman, stay away outof any consideration of impending danger. I should esteem it my duty allthe more to go, if there be danger, which I cannot believe."
"Oh, that Pierre were here to accompany you! But at least take someservants with you, master," implored the dame, persisting in herrequest.
"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 boldman who would assail the Bourgeois Philibert in the open market-place ofQuebec."
"Yet there may be such a bold man, master," replied she. "There are manysuch men who would consider they did the Intendant and themselves goodservice by compassing your destruction!"
"May be so, dame; but I should be a mark of scorn for all men if Ievaded a duty, small or great, through fear of the Intendant or any ofhis friends."
"I knew my appeal would be in vain, master, but forgive my anxiety. Godhelp you! God defend you!"
She looked at him fixedly for a moment. He saw her features werequivering 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 takemy sword, which, after a good conscience, is the best friend a gentlemancan have to stand by him in peril. Please bring it to me."
"Willingly, master, and may it be like the sword of the cherubim, toguard and protect you to-day!"
She went into the great hall for the rapier of the Bourgeois, which heonly wore on occasions of full dress and ceremony. He took it smilinglyfrom her hand, and, throwing the belt over his shoulder, bade DameRochelle good-by, and proceeded to the market.
The dame looked earnestly after him until he turned the corner of thegreat Cathedral, when, wiping her eyes, she went into the house and satdown pensively for some minutes.
"Would that Pierre had not gone to St. Ann's to-day!" cried she. "Mymaster! my noble, good master! I feel there is evil abroad for him inthe 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 inmeditation upon its sacred pages.
There was much stir in the market when the Bourgeois began hisaccustomed walk among the stalls, stopping to converse with such friendsas he met, and especially with the poor and infirm, who did not followhim--he hated to be followed,--but who stood waiting his arrival atcertain points which he never failed to pass. The Bourgeois knew thathis poor almsmen would be standing there, and he would no more avoidthem 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 withthe young men of fashion who chose the market-place for their morningpromenade, and who spent their smiles and wit freely, and sometimestheir money, upon the young ladies they expected to find there.
This morning the Demoiselles Grandmaison and Hebert were cheapeningimmortelles and dry flowers to decorate their winter vases,--a pleasantfashion, not out of date in the city at the present day.
The attention of these young ladies was quite as much taken up withthe talk of their cavaliers as with their bargaining when a quickexclamation greeted them from a lady on horseback, accompanied by theChevalier de Pean. She drew bridle sharply in front of the group, andleaning down from her saddle gave her hand to the ladies, bidding themgood morning in a cheery voice which there was no mistaking, althoughher 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 LeMercier and d'Estebe!" said she. "I did not perceive you. My veil is soin the way!" She pushed it aside coquettishly, and gave a finger to eachof the gentlemen, who returned her greeting with extreme politeness.
"Good morning! say you, Angelique?" exclaimed Mademoiselle Hebert; "itis 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 agood conscience make it! Are you buying
flowers? I have been to Silleryfor mine!" said she, patting her blooming cheeks with the end of herriding-whip. She had no time for further parley, for her attention wassuddenly directed by De Pean to some stir upon the other side of themarket, with an invitation to her to ride over and see what was thematter. Angelique at once wheeled her horse to accompany De Pean.
The group of girls felt themselves eclipsed and overborne by the queenlyairs of Angelique, and were glad when she moved off, fearing that bysome adroit manoeuvre she would carry off their cavaliers. It needed buta word, as they knew, to draw them all after her.
Angelique, under the lead of De Pean, rode quickly towards the sceneof confusion, where men were gesticulating fiercely and uttering loud,angry words such as usually precede the drawing of swords and the rushof combatants.
To her surprise, she recognized Le Gardeur de Repentigny, very drunkand wild with anger, in the act of leaping off his horse with oaths ofvengeance against some one whom she could not distinguish in the throng.
Le Gardeur had just risen from the gaming-table, where he had beenplaying all night. He was maddened with drink and excited by greatlosses, which in his rage he called unfair.
Colonel St. Remy had rooked him at piquet, he said, and refused him thechance of an honorable gamester to win back some part of his losses. Hisantagonist had left the Palace like a sneak, and he was riding roundthe city to find him, and horsewhip him if he would not fight like agentleman.
Le Gardeur was accompanied by the Sieur de Lantagnac, who, by splendiddissipation, had won his whole confidence. Le Gardeur, when drunk,thought the world did not contain a finer fellow than Lantagnac, whom hethoroughly despised when sober.
At a hint from De Pean, the Sieur de Lantagnac had clung to Le Gardeurthat morning like his shadow, had drunk with him again and again,exciting his wrath against St. Remy; but apparently keeping his own headclear enough for whatever mischief De Pean had put into it.
They rode together to the market-place, hearing that St. Remy was at thesermon. Their object, as Le Gardeur believed, was to put an unpardonableinsult upon St. Remy, by striking him with his whip and forcing him tofight a duel with Le Gardeur or his friend. The reckless De Lantagnacasserted loudly, he "did not care a straw which!"
Le Gardeur and De Lantagnac rode furiously through the market, heedlessof what they encountered or whom they ran over, and were followed by ayell of indignation from the people, who recognized them as gentlemen ofthe Grand Company.
It chanced that at that moment a poor almsman of the Bourgeois Philibertwas humbly and quietly leaning on his crutches, listening with bowinghead and smiling lips to the kind inquiries of his benefactor as hereceived his accustomed alms.
De Lantagnac rode up furiously, followed by Le Gardeur. De Lantagnacrecognized the Bourgeois, who stood in his way talking to the crippledsoldier. He cursed him between his teeth, and lashed his horse withintent to ride him down as if by accident.
The Bourgeois saw them approach and motioned them to stop, but invain. The horse of De Lantagnac just swerved in its course, and withoutchecking his speed ran over the crippled man, who instantly rolledin the dust, his face streaming with blood from a sharp stroke of thehorse's shoe upon his forehead.
Immediately following De Lantagnac came Le Gardeur, lashing his horseand yelling like a demon to all to clear the way.
The Bourgeois was startled at this new danger, not to himself,--hethought not of himself,--but to the bleeding man lying prostrate uponthe ground. He sprang forward to prevent Le Gardeur's horse going overhim.
He did not, in the haste and confusion of the moment, recognize LeGardeur, who, inflamed with wine and frantic with passion, was almostpast recognition by any who knew him in his normal state. Nor did LeGardeur, in his frenzy, recognize the presence of the Bourgeois, whosevoice calling him by name, with an appeal to his better nature, wouldundoubtedly have checked his headlong career.
The moment was critical. It was one of those points of time where thethreads of many lives and many destinies cross and intersect each other,and thence part different ways, leading to life or death, happiness ordespair, forever!
Le Gardeur spurred his horse madly over the wounded man who lay upon theground; but he did not hear him, he did not see him. Let it be said forLe Gardeur, if aught can be said in his defence, he did not see him. Hishorse was just about to trample upon the prostrate cripple lying in thedust, when his bridle was suddenly and firmly seized by the hand of theBourgeois, and his horse wheeled round with such violence that, rearingback upon his haunches, he almost threw his rider headlong.
Le Gardeur, not knowing the reason of this sudden interference, andflaming with wrath, leaped to the ground just at the moment whenAngelique and De Pean rode up. Le Gardeur neither knew nor cared at thatmoment who his antagonist was; he saw but a bold, presumptuous man whohad seized his bridle, and whom it was his desire to punish on the spot.
De Pean recognized the stately figure and fearless look of the Bourgeoisconfronting Le Gardeur. The triumph of the Friponne was at hand. De Peanrubbed his hands with ecstasy as he called out to Le Gardeur, hisvoice ringing above the din of the crowd, "Achevez-le! Finish him, LeGardeur!"
Angelique sat upon her horse fixed as a statue and as pale as marble,not at the danger of the Bourgeois, whom she at once recognized, but outof fear for her lover, exposed to the menaces of the crowd, who were allon the side of the Bourgeois.
Le Gardeur leaped down from his horse and advanced with a terribleimprecation upon the Bourgeois, and struck him with his whip. The braveold merchant had the soul of a marshal of France. His blood boiled atthe insult; he raised his staff to ward off a second blow and struck LeGardeur sharply upon the wrist, making his whip fly out of his hand. LeGardeur instantly advanced again upon him, but was pressed back by thehabitans, who rushed to the defence of the Bourgeois. Then came thetempter to his ear,--a word or two, and the fate of many innocent liveswas decided in a moment!
Le Gardeur suddenly felt a hand laid upon his shoulder, and heard avoice, a woman's voice, speaking to him in passionate tones.
Angelique had forced her horse into the thick of the crowd. She was nolonger calm, nor pale with apprehension, but her face was flushed redderthan fire, and her eyes, those magnetic orbs which drove men mad, blazedupon Le Gardeur with all their terrible influence. She had seen himstruck by the Bourgeois, and her anger was equal to his own.
De Pean saw the opportunity.
"Angelique," exclaimed he, "the Bourgeois strikes Le Gardeur! What anoutrage! Can you bear it?"
"Never!" replied she; "neither shall Le Gardeur!"
With a plunge of her horse she forced her way close to Le Gardeur, and,leaning over him, laid her hand upon his shoulder and exclaimed in avoice choking with passion,--
"Comment, Le Gardeur! vous souffrez qu'un Malva comme ca vous abime decoups, et vous portez l'epee!" "What, Le Gardeur! you allow a ruffianlike that to load you with blows, and you wear a sword!"
It was enough! That look, that word, would have made Le Gardeurslaughter his father at that moment.
Astonished at the sight of Angelique, and maddened by her words as muchas by the blow he had received, Le Gardeur swore he would have revengeupon the spot. With a wild cry and the strength and agility of a pantherhe twisted himself out of the grasp of the habitans, and drawing hissword, before any man could stop him, thrust it to the hilt through thebody of the Bourgeois, who, not expecting this sudden assault, had notput himself in an attitude of defense to meet it.
The Bourgeois fell dying by the side of the bleeding man who had justreceived his alms, and in whose protection he had thus risked and losthis own life.
"Bravo, Le Gardeur!" exclaimed De Pean; "that was the best stroke evergiven in New France. The Golden Dog is done for, and the Bourgeois haspaid his debt to the Grand Company."
Le Gardeur looked up wildly. "Who is he, De Pean?" exclaimed he. "Whatman have I killed?"
"The Bourgeois Philibert, who else?" shouted De Pean with a tone o
fexultation.
Le Gardeur uttered a wailing cry, "The Bourgeois Philibert! have I slainthe Bourgeois Philibert? De Pean lies, Angelique," said he, suddenlyturning to her. "I would not kill a sparrow belonging to the BourgeoisPhilibert! Oh, tell me De Pean lies."
"De Pean does not lie, Le Gardeur," answered she, frightened at hislook. "The Bourgeois struck you first. I saw him strike you first withhis staff. You are a gentleman and would kill the King if he struck youlike a dog with his staff. Look where they are lifting him up. You seeit is the Bourgeois and no other."
Le Gardeur gave one wild look and recognized the well-known form andfeatures of the Bourgeois. He threw his sword on the ground, exclaiming,"Oh! oh! unhappy man that I am! It is parricide! parricide! to haveslain the father of my brother Pierre! Oh, Angelique des Meloises! youmade me draw my sword, and I knew not who it was or what I did!"
"I told you, Le Gardeur, and you are angry with me. But see! hark! whata tumult is gathering; we must get out of this throng or we shall allbe killed as well as the Bourgeois. Fly, Le Gardeur, fly! Go to thePalace!"
"To hell sooner! Never shall the Palace see me again!" exclaimed hemadly. "The people shall kill me if they will, but save yourself,Angelique. De Pean, lead her instantly away from this cursed spot, orall the blood is not spilt that will be spilt to-day. This is of yourcontriving, De Pean," cried he, looking savagely, as if about to springupon him.
"You would not harm me or her, Le Gardeur?" interrupted De Pean, turningpale at his fierce look.
"Harm her, you fool, no! but I will harm you if you do not instantlytake her away out of this tumult. I must see the Bourgeois. Oh God, ifhe be dead!"
A great cry now ran through the market-place: "The Bourgeois is killed.The Grand Company have assassinated the Bourgeois." Men ran up fromevery side shouting and gesticulating. The news spread like wild-firethrough the city, and simultaneously a yell for vengeance rose from theexcited multitude.
The Recollet Brother Daniel had been the first to fly to the help of theBourgeois. His gray robe presently was dyed red with the blood of thebest friend and protector of their monastery. But death was too quickfor even one prayer to be heard or uttered by the dying man.
The gray Brother made the sign of the cross upon the forehead of theBourgeois, who opened his eyes once for a moment, and looked in the faceof the good friar while his lips quivered with two inarticulate words,"Pierre! Amelie!" That was all. His brave eyes closed again forever fromthe light of the sun. The good Bourgeois Philibert was dead.
"'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,'" repeated the Recollet."'Even so, saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors.'"
De Pean had foreseen the likelihood of a popular commotion. He was readyto fly on the instant, but could not prevail on Angelique to leave LeGardeur, who was kneeling down by the side of the Bourgeois, lifting himin his arms and uttering the wildest accents of grief as he gazed uponthe pallid, immovable face of the friend of his youth.
"That is the assassin, and the woman, too," cried a sturdy habitan. "Iheard her bid him draw his sword upon the Bourgeois."
The crowd for the moment believed that De Pean had been the murderer ofPhilibert.
"No, not he; it was the other. It was the officer who dismounted,--thedrunken officer. Who was he? Where is he?" cried the habitan, forcinghis way into the presence of Le Gardeur, who was still kneeling by theside of the Bourgeois and was not seen for a few moments; but quickly hewas identified.
"That is he!" cried a dozen voices. "He is looking if he has killed him,by God!"
A number of men rushed upon Le Gardeur, who made no defence, butcontinued kneeling beside the Recollet Brother Daniel over the body ofthe Bourgeois. He was instantly seized by some of the crowd. He held outhis hands and bade them take him prisoner or kill him on the spot, ifthey would, for it was he who had killed the Bourgeois.
Half a dozen swords were instantly drawn as if to take him at his word,when the terrible shrieks of Angelique pierced every ear. The crowdturned in astonishment to see who it was on horseback that cried soterribly, "Do not kill him! Do not kill Le Gardeur de Repentigny!" Shecalled several citizens by name and entreated them to help to save him.
By her sudden interference Angelique caused a diversion in the crowd.Le Gardeur rose up to his feet, and many persons recognized him withastonishment and incredulity, for no one could believe that he hadkilled the good Bourgeois, who was known to have been the warm friend ofthe whole family of De Repentigny.
De Pean, taking advantage of the sudden shift of feeling in the crowdand anxious for the safety of Angelique, seized the bridle of her horseto drag her forcibly out of the press, telling her that her words hadbeen heard and in another instant the whole mob would turn its fury uponher, and in order to save her life she must fly.
"I will not fly, De Pean. You may fly yourself, for you are a coward.They are going to kill Le Gardeur, and I will not forsake him. Theyshall kill me first."
"But you must! You shall fly! Hark! Le Gardeur is safe for the present.Wheel your horse around, and you will see him standing up yonder quitesafe! The crowd rather believe it was I who killed the Bourgeois, andnot Le Gardeur! I have a soul and body to be saved as well as he!"
"Curse you, soul and body, De Pean! You made me do it! You put thosehellish words in my mouth! I will not go until I see Le Gardeur safe!"
Angelique endeavored frantically to approach Le Gardeur, and could not,but as she looked over the surging heads of the people she could see LeGardeur standing up, surrounded by a ring of agitated men who did notappear, however, to threaten him with any injury,--nay, looked at himmore with wonder and pity than with menace of injury.
He was a prisoner, but Angelique did not know it or she would not haveleft him. As it was, urged by the most vehement objurgations of De Pean,and seeing a portion of the crowd turning their furious looks towardsherself as she sat upon her horse, unable either to go or stay, DePean suddenly seized her rein, and spurring his own horse, dragged herfuriously in spite of herself out of the tumult. They rode headlong tothe casernes of the Regiment of Bearn, where they took refuge for themoment from the execrations of the populace.
The hapless Le Gardeur became suddenly sobered and conscious of theenormity of his act. He called madly for death from the raging crowd. Heheld out his hands for chains to bind a murderer, as he called himself!But no one would strike him or offer to bind him. The wrath of thepeople was so mingled with blank astonishment at his demeanor, his griefand his despair were so evidently genuine and so deep, that many said hewas mad, and more an object of pity than of punishment.
At his own reiterated command, he was given over to the hands of somesoldiers and led off, followed by a great crowd of people, to the mainguard of the Castle of St. Louis, where he was left a prisoner, whileanother portion of the multitude gathered about the scene of thetragedy, surrounded the body of the Bourgeois, which was lifted off theground and borne aloft on men's shoulders, followed by wild cries andlamentations to the House of the Golden Dog,--the house which he hadleft but half an hour before, full of life, vigor and humanity, lookingbefore and after as a strong man looks who has done his duty, and whofeels still able to take the world upon his shoulders and carry it, ifneed were.
The sad procession moved slowly on amid the pressing, agitated crowd,which asked and answered a hundred eager questions in a breath. The twopoor Recollet brothers, Daniel and Ambrose, walked side by side beforethe bleeding corpse of their friend, and stifled their emotions bysinging, in a broken voice that few heard but themselves, the words ofthe solitary hymn of St. Francis d'Assisi, the founder of their order:
"Praised be the Lord, by our sweet sister Death, From whom no man escapes, howe'er he try! Woe to all those who yield their parting breath In mortal sin! But blessed those who die Doing thy will in that decisive hour! The second death o'er such shall have no power. Praise, blessing, and thanksgiving to my Lord! For all He gives and takes be He adored!
"
Dame Rochelle heard the approaching noise and tumult. She looked outof the window and could see the edge of the crowd in the market-placetossing to and fro like breakers upon a rocky shore. The people in thestreets were hurrying towards the market. Swarms of men employed in themagazines of the Bourgeois were running out of the edifice towards thesame spot.
The dame divined at once that something had happened to her master. Sheuttered a fervent prayer for his safety. The noise grew greater, andas she reached out of the window to demand of passers-by what was thematter, a voice shouted up that the Bourgeois was dead; that he had beenkilled by the Grand Company, and they were bringing him home.
The voice passed on, and no one but God heeded the long wail of griefthat rose from the good dame as she fell upon her knees in the doorway,unable to proceed further. She preserved her consciousness, however.
The crowd now swarmed in the streets about the doors of the house.Presently were heard the shuffling steps of a number of men in the greathall, bearing the body of the Bourgeois into the large room where thesunshine was playing so gloriously.
The crowd, impelled by a feeling of reverence, stood back; only a fewventured to come into the house.
The rough habitans who brought him in laid him upon a couch and gazedfor some moments in silent awe upon the noble features, so pale andplacid, which now lay motionless before them.
Here was a man fit to rule an empire, and who did rule the half ofNew France, who was no more now, save in the love and gratitude of thepeople, than the poorest piece of human clay in the potter's field. Thegreat leveller had passed his rule over him as he passes it over everyone of us. The dead lion was less now than the living dog, and theGolden Dog itself was henceforth only a memory, and an epitaph foreverof the tragedy of this eventful day.
"Oh, my master! my good, noble master!" exclaimed Dame Rochelle asshe roused herself up and rushed to the chamber of the dead. "Yourimplacable enemies have killed you at last! I knew it! Oh, I knew thatyour precious life would one day pay the penalty of your truth andjustice! And Pierre! Oh, where is he on this day of all days of griefand sorrow?"
She wrung her hands at the thought of Pierre's absence to-day, and whata welcome home awaited him.
The noise and tumult in the street continued to increase. The friendsof the Bourgeois poured into the house, among them the Governor and LaCorne St. Luc, who came with anxious looks and hasty steps to inquireinto the details of the murder.
The Governor, after a short consultation with La Corne St. Luc, whohappened to be at the Castle, fearing a riot and an attack upon themagazines of the Grand Company, ordered the troops immediately underarms and despatched strong detachments under the command of careful andtrusty officers to the Palace of the Intendant, and the great warehouseof the Friponne, and also into the market-place, and to the residenceof the Lady de Tilly, not knowing in what direction the fury of thepopulace might direct itself.
The orders were carried out in a few minutes without noise or confusion.The Count, with La Corne St. Luc, whose countenance bore a concentrationof sorrow and anger wonderful to see, hastened down to the house ofmourning. Claude Beauharnais and Rigaud de Vaudreuil followed hastilyafter them. They pushed through the crowd that filled the Rue Buade,and the people took off their hats, while the air resounded withdenunciations of the Friponne and appeals for vengeance upon theassassin of the Bourgeois.
The Governor and his companions were moved to tears at the sight oftheir murdered friend lying in his bloody vesture, which was open toenable the worthy Dr. Gauthier, who had run in all haste, to examine thestill oozing wound. The Recollet Brother Daniel still knelt in silentprayer at his feet, while Dame Rochelle with trembling hands arrangedthe drapery decently over her dead master, repeating to herself:
"It is the end of trouble, and God has mercifully taken him away beforehe empties the vials of his wrath upon this New France, and gives it upfor a possession to our enemies! What says the prophet? 'The righteousperisheth and no man layeth it to heart, and merciful men are takenaway, none considering that the righteous are taken away from the evilto come!'"
The very heart of La Corne St. Luc seemed bursting in his bosom, and hechoked with agony as he placed his hand upon the forehead of his friend,and reflected that the good Bourgeois had fallen by the sword of hisgodson, the old man's pride,--Le Gardeur de Repentigny!
"Had death come to him on the broad, common road of mortality,--had hedied like a soldier on the battlefield," exclaimed La Corne, "I wouldhave had no spite at fate. But to be stabbed in the midst of his gooddeeds of alms, and by the hand of one whom he loved! Yes, by God! I willsay it! and by one who loved him! Oh, it is terrible, Count! Terribleand shameful to me as if it had been the deed of my own son!"
"La Corne, I feel with you the grief and shame of such a tragedy. Butthere is a fearful mystery in this thing which we cannot yet unravel.They say the Chevalier de Pean dropped an expression that sounded likea plot. I cannot think Le Gardeur de Repentigny would deliberately andwith forethought have killed the Bourgeois."
"On my life he never would! He respected the Bourgeois, nay, loved him,for the sake of Pierre Philibert as well as for his own sake. Terribleas is his crime, he never committed it out of malice aforethought. Hehas been himself the victim of some hellish plot,--for a plot there hasbeen. This has been no chance melee, Count," exclaimed La Corne St. Lucimpetuously.
"It looks like a chance melee, but I suspect more than appears onthe surface," replied the Governor. "The removal of the Bourgeoisdecapitates the party of the Honnetes Gens, does it not?"
"Gospel is not more true! The Bourgeois was the only merchant in NewFrance capable of meeting their monopoly and fighting them with theirown weapons. Bigot and the Grand Company will have everything their ownway now."
"Besides, there was the old feud of the Golden Dog," continued theGovernor. "Bigot took its allusion to the Cardinal as a personal insultto himself, did he not, La Corne?"
"Yes; and Bigot knew he deserved it equally with his Eminence, whosearch-tool he had been," replied La Corne. "By God! I believe Bigot hasbeen at the bottom of this plot. It would be worthy of his craft."
"These are points to be considered, La Corne. But such is the secrecyof these men's councils, that I doubt we may suspect more than we shallever be able to prove." The Governor looked much agitated.
"What amazes me, Count, is not that the thing should be done, but thatLe Gardeur should have done it!" exclaimed La Corne, with a puzzledexpression.
"That is the strangest circumstance of all, La Corne," observed theGovernor. "The same thought has struck me. But he was mad with wine,they say; and men who upset their reason do not seldom reverse theirconduct towards their friends; they are often cruelest to those whomthey love best."
"I will not believe but that he was made drunk purposely to committhis crime!" exclaimed La Corne, striking his hand upon his thigh. "LeGardeur in his senses would have lost his right hand sooner than haveraised it against the Bourgeois."
"I feel sure of it; his friendship for Pierre Philibert, to whom he owedhis life, was something rarely seen now-a-days," remarked the Count.
La Corne felt a relief in bearing testimony in favor of Le Gardeur."They loved one another like brothers," said he, "and more thanbrothers. Bigot had corrupted the habits, but could never soil the heartor lessen the love of Le Gardeur for Pierre Philibert, or his respectfor the Bourgeois, his father."
"It is a mystery, La Corne; I cannot fathom it. But there is one moredanger to guard against," said the Governor meditatively, "and we havesorrow enough already among our friends."
"What is that, Count?" La Corne stood up erect as if in mental defianceof a new danger.
"Pierre Philibert will return home to-night," replied the Governor;"he carries the sharpest sword in New France. A duel between him andLe Gardeur would crown the machinations of the secret plotters inthis murder. He will certainly avenge his father's death, even upon LeGardeur."
La Corne St. L
uc started at this suggestion, but presently shook hishead. "My life upon it," said he, "Le Gardeur would stand up to receivethe sword of Pierre through his heart, but he would never fight him!Besides, the unhappy boy is a prisoner."
"We will care well for him and keep him safe. He shall have absolutejustice, La Corne, but no favor."
An officer entered the room to report to the Governor that the troopshad reached their assigned posts, and that there was no symptom ofrioting among the people in any quarter of the city.
The Governor was greatly relieved by these tidings. "Now, La Corne,"said he, "we have done what is needful for the public. I can spare you,for I know where your heart yearns most to go, to offer the consolationsof a true friend."
"Alas, yes," replied La Corne sadly. "Men weep tears of water, but womentears of blood! What is our hardest grief compared with the overwhelmingsorrow and desolation that will pass over my poor goddaughter, Amelie deRepentigny, and the noble Lady de Tilly at this doleful news?"
"Go comfort them, La Corne, and the angel of consolation go with you!"The Governor shook him by the hand and wished him Godspeed.
La Corne St. Luc instantly left the house. The crowd uncovered and madeway for him as they would have done for the Governor himself, as withhasty strides he passed up the Rue du Fort and on towards the Cape,where stood the mansion of the Lady de Tilly.
"Oh, Rigaud, what a day of sorrow this is!" exclaimed the Governor toDe Vaudreuil, on their return to the Castle of St. Louis. "What a bloodyand disgraceful event to record in the annals of New France!"
"I would give half I have in the world could it be forever blotted out,"replied De Vaudreuil. "Your friend, Herr Kalm, has left us, fortunately,before he could record in his book, for all Europe to read, that men aremurdered in New France to sate the vengeance of a Royal Intendant andfill the purses of the greatest company of thieves that ever plundered anation."
"Hark, Rigaud! do not say such things," interrupted the Governor; "Itrust it is not so bad as that; but it shall be seen into, if I remainGovernor of New France. The blood of the noble Bourgeois shall berequited at the hands of all concerned in his assassination. The blameof it shall not rest wholly upon that unhappy Le Gardeur. We will traceit up to its very origin and fountain-head."
"Right, Count; you are true as steel. But mark me! if you begin to tracethis assassination up to its origin and fountain-head, your letters ofrecall will be despatched by the first ship that leaves France after thenews reaches Versailles." Rigaud looked fixedly at the Count as he saidthis.
"It may be so, Rigaud," replied the Count, sadly; "strange things takeplace under the regime of the strange women who now rule the Court.Nevertheless, while I am here my whole duty shall be done. In thismatter justice shall be meted out with a firm and impartial hand, nomatter who shall be incriminated!"
The Count de la Galissoniere at once summoned a number of his mosttrusted and most sagacious councillors together--the Intendant was notone of those summoned--to consider what steps it behooved them to taketo provide for the public safety and to ensure the ends of justice inthis lamentable tragedy.