CHAPTER VII. THE INTENDANT BIGOT.
The Chateau of Beaumanoir had, since the advent of the Intendant Bigot,been the scene of many a festive revelry that matched, in bacchanalianfrenzy, the wild orgies of the Regency and the present debaucheriesof Croisy and the petits appartements of Versailles. Its splendor, itsluxury, its riotous feasts lasting without intermission sometimes fordays, were the themes of wonder and disgust to the unsophisticatedpeople of New France, and of endless comparison between the extravaganceof the Royal Intendant and the simple manners and inflexible morals ofthe Governor-General.
The great hall of the Chateau, the scene of the gorgeous feasts of theIntendant, was brilliantly illuminated with silver lamps, glowing likeglobes of sunlight as they hung from the lofty ceiling, upon whichwas painted a fresco of the apotheosis of Louis XIV., where the GrandMonarque was surrounded by a cloud of Condes, Orleanois, and Bourbons,of near and more remote consanguinity. At the head of the room hung afull-length portrait of Marquise de Pompadour, the mistress of LouisXV., and the friend and patroness of the Intendant Bigot; her bold,voluptuous beauty seemed well fitted to be the presiding genius of hishouse. The walls bore many other paintings of artistic and historicvalue. The King and Queen; the dark-eyed Montespan; the craftyMaintenon; and the pensive beauty of Louise de la Valliere, the onlymistress of Louis XIV. who loved him for his own sake, and whoseportrait, copied from this picture, may still be seen in the chapel ofthe Ursulines of Quebec, where the fair Louise is represented as St.Thais kneeling at prayer among the nuns.
The table in the great hall, a masterpiece of workmanship, was made ofa dark Canadian wood then newly introduced, and stretched the length ofthe hall. A massive gold epergne of choicest Italian art, the gift ofLa Pompadour, stood on the centre of the table. It represented Bacchusenthroned on a tun of wine, presenting flowing cups to a dance of faunsand satyrs.
Silver cups of Venetian sculpture and goblets of Bohemian manufacturesparkled like stars upon the brilliant table, brimming over with thegold and ruby vintages of France and Spain; or lay overturned amid poolsof wine that ran down upon the velvet carpet. Dishes of Parmesan cheese,caviare, and other provocatives to thirst stood upon the table, amidvases of flowers and baskets of the choicest fruits of the Antilles.
Round this magnificent table sat a score or more of revellers--in thegarb of gentlemen, but all in disorder and soiled with wine; theircountenances were inflamed, their eyes red and fiery, their tonguesloose and loquacious. Here and there a vacant or overturned chair showedwhere a guest had fallen in the debauch and been carried off bythe valets, who in gorgeous liveries waited on the table. A band ofmusicians sat up in a gallery at the end of the hall, and filled thepauses of the riotous feast with the ravishing strains of Lulli andDestouches.
At the head of the table, first in place as in rank, sat Francois Bigot,Intendant of New France. His low, well-set figure, dark hair, small,keen black eyes, and swarthy features full of fire and animation,bespoke his Gascon blood. His countenance was far from comely,--nay,when in repose, even ugly and repulsive,--but his eyes were magnets thatdrew men's looks towards him, for in them lay the force of a powerfulwill and a depth and subtlety of intellect that made men fear, if theycould not love him. Yet when he chose--and it was his usual mood--toexercise his blandishments on men, he rarely failed to captivate them,while his pleasant wit, courtly ways, and natural gallantry towardswomen, exercised with the polished seductiveness he had learned in theCourt of Louis XV., made Francois Bigot the most plausible and dangerousman in New France.
He was fond of wine and music, passionately addicted to gambling, anddevoted to the pleasant vices that were rampant in the Court ofFrance, finely educated, able in the conduct of affairs, and fertile inexpedients to accomplish his ends. Francois Bigot might have saved NewFrance, had he been honest as he was clever; but he was unprincipled andcorrupt: no conscience checked his ambition or his love of pleasure.He ruined New France for the sake of himself and his patroness and thecrowd of courtiers and frail beauties who surrounded the King, whosearts and influence kept him in his high office despite all the effortsof the Honnetes Gens, the good and true men of the Colony, to removehim.
He had already ruined and lost the ancient Colony of Acadia, through hisdefrauds and malversations as Chief Commissary of the Army, and insteadof trial and punishment, had lately been exalted to the higher and stillmore important office of Royal Intendant of New France.
On the right of the Intendant sat his bosom friend, the Sieur Cadet, alarge, sensual man, with twinkling gray eyes, thick nose, and full redlips. His broad face, flushed with wine, glowed like the harvest moonrising above the horizon. Cadet had, it was said, been a butcher inQuebec. He was now, for the misfortune of his country, Chief Commissaryof the Army and a close confederate of the Intendant.
On the left of the Intendant sat his Secretary, De Pean, crafty andunscrupulous, a parasite, too, who flattered his master and ministeredto his pleasures. De Pean was a military man, and not a bad soldier inthe field; but he loved gain better than glory, and amassed an enormousfortune out of the impoverishment of his country.
Le Mercier, too, was there, Commandant of Artillery, a brave officer,but a bad man; Varin, a proud, arrogant libertine, Commissary ofMontreal, who outdid Bigot in rapine and Cadet in coarseness; De Breard,Comptroller of the Marine, a worthy associate of Penisault, whosepinched features and cunning leer were in keeping with his importantoffice of chief manager of the Friponne. Perrault, D'Estebe, Morin, andVergor, all creatures of the Intendant, swelled the roll of infamy, aspartners of the Grand Company of Associates trading in New France, astheir charter named them--the "Grand Company of Thieves," as the peoplein their plain Norman called them who robbed them in the King's nameand, under pretence of maintaining the war, passed the most arbitrarydecrees, the only object of which was to enrich themselves and theirhigher patrons at the Court of Versailles.
The rest of the company seated round the table comprised a number ofdissolute seigneurs and gallants of fashion about town--men of greatwants and great extravagance, just the class so quaintly described byCharlevoix, a quarter of a century previous, as "gentlemen thoroughlyversed in the most elegant and agreeable modes of spending money, butgreatly at a loss how to obtain it."
Among the gay young seigneurs who had been drawn into the vortex ofBigot's splendid dissipation, was the brave, handsome Le Gardeur deRepentigny--a captain of the Royal Marine, a Colonial corps recentlyembodied at Quebec. In general form and feature Le Gardeur was a manlyreflex of his beautiful sister Amelie, but his countenance was marredwith traces of debauchery. His face was inflamed, and his dark eyes, solike his sister's, by nature tender and true, were now glittering withthe adder tongues of the cursed wine-serpent.
Taking the cue from Bigot, Le Gardeur responded madly to the challengesto drink from all around him. Wine was now flooding every brain, and thetable was one scene of riotous debauch.
"Fill up again, Le Gardeur!" exclaimed the Intendant, with a loud andstill clear voice; "the lying clock says it is day--broad day, butneither cock crows nor day dawns in the Chateau of Beaumanoir, save atthe will of its master and his merry guests! Fill up, companions all!The lamplight in the wine-cup is brighter than the clearest sun thatever shone!"
"Bravo Bigot! name your toast, and we will pledge it till the sevenstars count fourteen!" replied Le Gardeur, looking hazily at the greatclock in the hall. "I see four clocks in the room, and every one of themlies if it says it is day!"
"You are mending, Le Gardeur de Repentigny! You are worthy to belong tothe Grand Company! But you shall have my toast. We have drank it twentytimes already, but it will stand drinking twenty times more. It is thebest prologue to wine ever devised by wit of man--a woman--"
"And the best epilogue too, Bigot!" interjected Varin, visibly drunk;"but let us have the toast, my cup is waiting."
"Well, fill up all, then; and we will drink the health, wealth, andlove by stealth, of the jolliest dame in sunny France--The Marquis
e dePompadour!"
"La Pompadour! La Pompadour!" Every tongue repeated the name, thegoblets were drained to the bottoms, and a thunder of applause andclattering of glasses followed the toast of the mistress of Louis XV.,who was the special protectress of the Grand Company,--a goodly share ofwhose profits in the monopoly of trade in New France was thrown into thelap of the powerful favorite.
"Come, Varin! your turn now!" cried Bigot, turning to the Commissary;"a toast for Ville Marie! Merry Montreal! where they eat like rats ofPoitou, and drink till they ring the fire-bells, as the Bordelais did towelcome the collectors of the gabelle. The Montrealers have not rung thefire-bells yet against you, Varin, but they will by and by!"
Varin filled his cup with an unsteady hand until it ran over, andpropping his body against the table as he stood up, replied, "Atoast for Ville Marie! and our friends in need!--The blue caps of theRichelieu!" This was in allusion to a recent ordinance of the Intendant,authorizing him to seize all the corn in store at Montreal and in thesurrounding country--under pretence of supplying the army, and really tosecure the monopoly of it for the Grand Company.
The toast was drunk, amid rapturous applause. "Well said, Varin!"exclaimed Bigot; "that toast implied both business and pleasure: thebusiness was to sweep out the granges of the farmers; the pleasure is todrink in honor of your success."
"My foragers sweep clean!" said Varin, resuming his seat, and lookingunder his hand to steady his gaze. "Better brooms were never made inBesancon. The country is swept as clean as a ball-room. Your Excellencyand the Marquise might lead the dance over it, and not a straw lie inyour way!"
"And did you manage it without a fight, Varin?" asked the Sieurd'Estebe, with a half sneer.
"Fight! Why fight? The habitans will never resist the King's name. Weconjure the devil down with that. When we skin our eels we don'tbegin at the tail! If we did, the habitans would be like the eels ofMelun--cry out before they were hurt. No! no! D'Estebe! We are morepolite in Ville Marie. We tell them the King's troops need the corn.They doff their caps, and with tears in their eyes, say, 'Monsieur leCommissaire, the King can have all we possess, and ourselves too, if hewill only save Canada from the Bostonnais.' This is better than stealingthe honey and killing the bees that made it, D'Estebe!"
"But what became of the families of the habitans after this swoop ofyour foragers?" asked the Seigneur de Beauce, a country gentlemanwho retained a few honorable ideas floating on top of the wine he hadswallowed.
"Oh! the families--that is, the women and children, for we took the menfor the army. You see, De Beauce," replied Varin, with a mocking air,as he crossed his thumbs like a peasant of Languedoc when he wishes toinspire belief in his words, "the families have to do what the gentlemenof Beauce practise in times of scarcity--breakfast by gaping! or theycan eat wind, like the people of Poitou: it will make them spit clean!"
De Beauce was irritated at the mocking sign and the proverbial allusionto the gaping of the people of Beauce. He started up in wrath, andstriking his fist on the table, "Monsieur Varin!" cried he, "do notcross your thumbs at me, or I will cut them off! Let me tell you thegentlemen of Beauce do not breakfast on gaping, but have plenty of cornto stuff even a Commissary of Montreal!"
The Sieur Le Mercier, at a sign from Bigot, interposed to stop therising quarrel. "Don't mind Varin," said he, whispering to De Beauce;"he is drunk, and a row will anger the Intendant. Wait, and by and byyou shall toast Varin as the chief baker of Pharoah, who got hangedbecause he stole the King's corn."
"As he deserves to be, for his insult to the gentlemen of Beauce,"insinuated Bigot, leaning over to his angry guest, at the same timewinking good-humoredly to Varin. "Come, now, De Beauce, friends all,amantium irae, you know--which is Latin for love--and I will sing youa stave in praise of this good wine, which is better than Bacchus everdrank." The Intendant rose up, and holding a brimming glass in his hand,chanted in full, musical voice a favorite ditty of the day, as a readymode of restoring harmony among the company:
"'Amis! dans ma bouteille, Voila le vin de France! C'est le bon vin qui danse ici, C'est le bon vin qui danse. Gai lon la! Vive la lirette! Des Filettes Il y en aura!'
Vivent les Filettes! The girls of Quebec--first in beauty, last in love,and nowhere in scorn of a gallant worthy of them!" continued Bigot."What say you, De Pean? Are you not prepared to toast the belles ofQuebec?"
"That I am, your Excellency!" De Pean was unsteady upon his feet, as herose to respond to the Intendant's challenge. He pot-valiantly drew hissword, and laid it on the table. "I will call on the honorable companyto drink this toast on their knees, and there is my sword to cut thelegs off any gentleman who will not kneel down and drink a full cup tothe bright eyes of the belle of Quebec--The incomparable Angelique desMeloises!"
The toast suited their mood. Every one filled up his cup in honor of abeauty so universally admired.
"Kneel down, all," cried the Intendant, "or De Pean will hamstring us!"All knelt down with a clash--some of them unable to rise again. "We willdrink to the Angelique charms of the fair Des Meloises. Come now, alltogether!--as the jolly Dutchmen of Albany say, 'Upp seys over!'"
Such of the company as were able resumed their seats amid great laughterand confusion, when the Sieur Deschenaux, a reckless young gallant,ablaze with wine and excitement, stood up, leaning against the table.His fingers dabbled in his wine-cup as he addressed them, but he did notnotice it.
"We have drunk with all the honors," said he, "to the bright eyes of thebelle of Quebec. I call on every gentleman now, to drink to the stillbrighter eyes of the belle of New France!"
"Who is she? Name! name!" shouted a dozen voices; "who is the belle ofNew France?"
"Who is she? Why, who can she be but the fair Angelique, whom we havejust honored?" replied De Pean, hotly, jealous of any precedence in thatquarter.
"Tut!" cried Deschenaux, "you compare glowworms with evening stars, whenyou pretend to match Angelique des Meloises with the lady I propose tohonor! I call for full brimmers--cardinal's hats--in honor of the belleof New France--the fair Amelie de Repentigny!"
Le Gardeur de Repentigny was sitting leaning on his elbow, his facebeaming with jollity, as he waited, with a full cup, for Deschenaux'stoast. But no sooner did he hear the name of his sister from those lipsthan he sprang up as though a serpent had bit him. He hurled his gobletat the head of Deschenaux with a fierce imprecation, and drew his swordas he rushed towards him.
"A thousand lightnings strike you! How dare you pollute that holy name,Deschenaux? Retract that toast instantly, or you shall drink it inblood--retract, I say!"
The guests rose to their feet in terrible uproar. Le Gardeur struggledviolently to break through a number of those who interposed between himand Deschenaux, who, roused to frenzy by the insult from Le Gardeur,had also drawn his sword, and stood ready to receive the assault of hisantagonist.
The Intendant, whose courage and presence of mind never forsook him,pulled Deschenaux down upon his seat and held fast his sword arm,shouting in his ear,--
"Are you mad, Deschenaux? You knew she was his sister, and how heworships her! Retract the toast--it was inopportune! Besides, recollectwe want to win over De Repentigny to the Grand Company!"
Deschenaux struggled for a minute, but the influence of the Intendantwas all-powerful over him. He gave way. "Damn De Repentigny," said he,"I only meant to do honor to the pretty witch. Who would have expectedhim to take it up in that manner?"
"Any one who knows him; besides," continued the Intendant, "if you musttoast his sister, wait till we get him body and soul made over to theGrand Company, and then he will care no more for his sister's fame thanyou do for yours."
"But the insult! He has drawn blood with the goblet," said Deschenaux,wiping his forehead with his fingers; "I cannot pardon that!"
"Tut, tut; fight him another day. But you shall not fight here! Cadetand Le Mercier have pinned the youn
g Bayard, I see; so you have a chanceto do the honorable; Deschenaux; go to him, retract the toast, and sayyou had forgotten the fair lady was his sister."
Deschenaux swallowed his wrath, rose up, and sheathed his sword. Takingthe Intendant by the arm, he went up to Le Gardeur, who was still tryingto advance. Deschenaux held up his hand deprecatingly. "Le Gardeur,"said he, with an air of apparent contrition, "I was wrong to offer thattoast. I had forgotten the fair lady was your sister. I retract thetoast, since it is disagreeable to you, although all would have beenproud to drink it."
Le Gardeur was as hard to appease as he was easy to excite to anger. Hestill held his drawn sword in his hand.
"Come!" cried Bigot, "you are as hard to please as Villiers Vendome,whom the King himself could not satisfy. Deschenaux says he is sorry.A gentleman cannot say more; so shake hands and be friends, DeRepentigny."
Impervious to threats, and often to reason, Le Gardeur could not resistan appeal to his generosity.
He sheathed his sword, and held out his hand with frank forgiveness."Your apology is ample, Sieur Deschenaux. I am satisfied you meant noaffront to my sister! It is my weak point, messieurs," continued he,looking firmly at the company, ready to break out had he detected theshadow of a sneer upon any one's countenance. "I honor her as I do thequeen of heaven. Neither of their names ought to be spoken here."
"Well said! Le Gardeur," exclaimed the Intendant. "That's right,shake hands, and be friends again. Blessed are quarrels that lead toreconciliation and the washing out of feuds in wine. Take your seats,gentlemen."
There was a general scramble back to the table. Bigot stood up inrenewed force.
"Valets!" cried he, "bring in now the largest cups! We will drinka toast five fathoms deep, in water of life strong enough to meltCleopatra's pearls, and to a jollier dame than Egypt's queen. Butfirst we will make Le Gardeur de Repentigny free of the guild of noblepartners of the company of adventurers trading in New France."
The valets flew in and out. In a few moments the table was replenishedwith huge drinking-cups, silver flagons, and all the heavy impedimentaof the army of Bacchus.
"You are willing to become one of us, and enter the jolly guild of theGrand Company?" exclaimed the Intendant, taking Le Gardeur by the hand.
"Yes, I am a stranger, and you may take me in. I claim admission,"replied Le Gardeur with drunken gravity, "and by St. Pigot! I will betrue to the guild!"
Bigot kissed him on both cheeks. "By the boot of St. Benoit! you speaklike the King of Yvetot. Le Gardeur de Repentigny, you are fit to wearfur in the Court of Burgundy."
"You can measure my foot, Bigot," replied Le Gardeur, "and satisfy thecompany that I am able to wear the boot of St. Benoit."
"By jolly St. Chinon! and you shall wear it, Le Gardeur," exclaimedBigot, handing him a quart flagon of wine, which Le Gardeur drankwithout drawing breath. "That boot fits," shouted the Intendantexultingly; "now for the chant! I will lead. Stop the breath of any onewho will not join in the chorus."
The Intendant in great voice led off a macaronic verse of Moliere, thathad often made merry the orgies of Versailles:
"'Bene, bene, bene, respondere! Dignus, dignus es, entrare In nostro laeto corpore!'"
A tintamarre of voices and a jingle of glasses accompanied the violinsand tambours de Basque as the company stood up and sang the song,winding up with a grand burst at the chorus:
"'Vivat! vivat! vivat! cent fois vivat! Novus socius qui tam bene parlat! Mille mille annis et manget et bibat, Fripet et friponnat!'"
Hands were shaken all round, congratulations, embracings, and filthykisses showered upon Le Gardeur to honor his admission as a partner ofthe Grand Company.
"And now," continued Bigot, "we will drink a draught long as the bellrope of Notre Dame. Fill up brimmers of the quintessence of the grape,and drain them dry in honor of the Friponne!"
The name was electric. It was, in the country, a word of opprobrium, butat Beaumanoir it was laughed at with true Gallic nonchalance. Indeed,to show their scorn of public opinion, the Grand Company had latelylaunched a new ship upon the Great Lakes to carry on the fur trade, andhad appropriately and mockingly named her, "La Friponne."
The toast of La Friponne was drunk with applause, followed by a wildbacchanalian song.
The Sieur Morin had been a merchant in Bordeaux whose bond was heldin as little value as his word. He had lately removed to New France,transferred the bulk of his merchandise to the Friponne, and become anactive agent of the Grand Company.
"La Friponne!" cried he; "I have drunk success to her with all my heartand throat; but I say she will never wear a night-cap and sleep quietlyin our arms until we muzzle the Golden Dog that barks by night and byday in the Rue Buade."
"That is true, Morin!", interrupted Varin. "The Grand Company willnever know peace until we send the Bourgeois, his master, back to theBastille. The Golden Dog is--"
"Damn the Golden Dog!" exclaimed Bigot, passionately. "Why do you utterhis name, Varin, to sour our wine? I hope one day to pull down the Dog,as well as the whole kennel of the insolent Bourgeois." Then, as was hiswont, concealing his feelings under a mocking gibe, "Varin," said he,"they say that it is your marrow bone the Golden Dog is gnawing--ha! ha!ha!"
"More people believe it is your Excellency's!" Varin knew he was right,but aware of Bigot's touchiness on that point, added, as is the wont ofpanders to great men, "It is either yours or the Cardinal's."
"Let it be the Cardinal's, then! He is still in purgatory, and therewill wait the arrival of the Bourgeois, to balance accounts with him."
Bigot hated the Bourgeois Philibert as one hates the man he has injured.Bigot had been instrumental in his banishment years ago from France,when the bold Norman count defended the persecuted Jansenists in theParliament of Rouen. The Intendant hated him now for his wealth andprosperity in New France. But his wrath turned to fury when he saw thetablet of the Golden Dog, with its taunting inscription, glaring uponthe front of the magazine in the Rue Buade. Bigot felt the full meaningand significance of the words that burned into his soul, and for whichhe hoped one day to be revenged.
"Confusion to the whole litter of the Golden Dog, and that is the partyof the Honnetes Gens!" cried he. "But for that canting savant who playsthe Governor here, I would pull down the sign and hang its master up inits stead to-morrow!"
The company now grew still more hilarious and noisy in their cups. Fewpaid attention to what the Intendant was saying. But De Repentigny heardhim utter the words, "Oh, for men who dare do men's deeds!" He caughtthe eye of De Repentigny, and added, "But we are all cowards in theGrand Company, and are afraid of the Bourgeois."
The wine was bubbling in the brain of Le Gardeur. He scarcely knew whatthe Intendant said, but he caught the last words.
"Whom do you call cowards, Chevalier? I have joined the Grand Company.If the rest are cowards, I am not: I stand ready to pluck the peruke offthe head of any man in New France, and carry it on my sword to the Placed' Armes, where I will challenge all the world to come and take it!"
"Pish! that is nothing! give me man's work. I want to see the partner inthe Grand Company who dare pull down the Golden Dog."
"I dare! and I dare!" exclaimed a dozen voices at once in response tothe appeal of the Intendant, who craftily meant his challenge to ensnareonly Le Gardeur.
"And I dare; and I will, too, if you wish it, Chevalier!" shouted LeGardeur, mad with wine, and quite oblivious of the thousand claims ofthe father of his friend, Pierre Philibert, upon him.
"I take you at your word, Le Gardeur! and bind your honor to it in thepresence of all these gentlemen," said Bigot with a look of intensesatisfaction.
"When shall it be done--to-day?" Le Gardeur seemed ready to pluck themoon from the sky in his present state of ecstasy.
"Why, no, not to-day; not before the pear is ripe will we pluck it! Yourword of honor will keep till then?"
Bigot was in great glee over the success of his stratagem t
o entrap DeRepentigny.
"It will keep a thousand years!" replied Le Gardeur, amid a freshoutburst of merriment round the board which culminated in a shamelesssong, fit only for a revel of satyrs.
The Sieur Cadet lolled lazily in his chair, his eyes blinking with asleepy leer. "We are getting stupidly drunk. Bigot," said he; "we wantsomething new to rouse us all to fresh life. Will you let me offer atoast?"
"Go on, Cadet! offer what toast you please. There is nothing in heaven,hell, or upon earth that I won't drink to for your sake."
"I want you to drink it on your knees, Bigot! pledge me that, and fillyour biggest cup."
"We will drink it on all fours if you like! come, out with your toast,Cadet; you are as long over it as Father Glapion's sermon in Lent! andit will be as interesting, I dare say!"
"Well, Chevalier, the Grand Company, after toasting all the beauties ofQuebec, desire to drink the health of the fair mistress of Beaumanoir,and in her presence too!" said Cadet with owlish gravity.
Bigot started; drunk and reckless as he was, he did not like his secretto be divulged. He was angry with Cadet for referring to it in thepresence of so many who knew not that a strange lady was residing atBeaumanoir. He was too thoroughly a libertine of the period to feel anymoral compunction for any excess he committed. He was habitually moreready to glory over his conquests, than to deny or extenuate them. Butin this case he had, to the surprise of Cadet, been very reticent, andshy of speaking of this lady even to him.
"They say she is a miracle of beauty, Bigot!" continued Cadet, "and thatyou are so jealous of the charms of your belle Gabrielle that you areafraid to show her to your best friends."
"My belle Gabrielle is at liberty to go where she pleases, Cadet!" Bigotsaw the absurdity of anger, but he felt it, nevertheless. "She choosesnot to leave her bower, to look even on you, Cadet! I warrant you shehas not slept all night, listening to your infernal din."
"Then, I hope you will allow us to go and beg pardon on our knees fordisturbing her rest. What say the good company?"
"Agreed, agreed!" was the general response, and all pressed theIntendant vociferously to allow them to see the fair mistress ofBeaumanoir.
Varin, however, proposed that she should be brought into the hall. "Sendher to us, O King," cried he; "we are nobles of Persia, and this isShushan the palace, where we carouse according to the law of the Medes,seven days at a stretch. Let the King bring in Queen Vashti, to show herbeauty to the princes and nobles of his court!"
Bigot, too full of wine to weigh scruples, yielded to the wish of hisboon companions. He rose from his chair, which in his absence was takenby Cadet. "Mind!" said he, "if I bring her in, you shall show her everyrespect."
"We will kiss the dust of her feet," answered Cadet, "and consider youthe greatest king of a feast in New France or Old."
Bigot, without further parley, passed out of the hall, traversed a longcorridor and entered an anteroom, where he found Dame Tremblay, the oldhousekeeper, dozing on her chair. He roused her up, and bade her go tothe inner chamber to summon her mistress.
The housekeeper rose in a moment at the voice of the Intendant. She wasa comely dame, with a ruddy cheek, and an eye in her head that lookedinquisitively at her master as she arranged her cap and threw back herrather gay ribbons.
"I want your mistress up in the great hall! Go summon her at once,"repeated the Intendant.
The housekeeper courtesied, but pressed her lips together as if toprevent them from speaking in remonstrance. She went at once on herungracious errand.