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Updated: June 29, 2025
"You are a deep devil, De Pean! So deep that I doubt you will cheat yourself yet," answered Cadet gruffly. "Never fear, Cadet! To-morrow night shall see the Palace gay with illumination, and the Golden Dog in darkness and despair." Le Gardeur was too drunk to catch the full drift of the Intendant's reference to the Bourgeois under the metaphor of Actaeon torn in pieces by his own dog.
That she would not marry Le Gardeur was plain enough to De Pean, who knew her ambitious views regarding the Intendant; and that the Intendant would not marry her was equally a certainty to him, although it did not prevent De Pean's entertaining an intense jealousy of Bigot.
Is that you?" exclaimed a voice in the night. "What lucky wind blows you out at this hour?" Le Gardeur stopped and recognized the Chevalier de Pean. "Where are you going in such a desperate hurry?" "To the devil!" replied Le Gardeur, withdrawing his hand from De Pean's, who had seized it with an amazing show of friendship.
The storm seemed too much the reflex of the agitation of their own minds, and they lay clasped in each other's arms, mingling their tears and prayers for Le Gardeur until the gray dawn looked over the eastern hill and they slept. The Chevalier de Pean was faithful to the mission upon which he had been despatched to Tilly.
De Pean remembered his presumption as well as his rejection by Amelie at Tilly, and while his tongue ran smooth as oil in polite regrets that Le Gardeur had resolved not to see his sister to-day, her evident distress filled him with joy, which he rolled under his tongue as the most delicate morsel of revenge he had ever tasted.
He detested Bigot, Cadet, Pean and all their corrupt crowd, while recognizing the fact that they were almost supreme in Quebec. It would be pleasing to the gods for de Mézy to be humiliated, and it did not matter if the humiliation came from the hands of a Bostonnais. "Would you mind trying a round or two at the foils with me?" he said to Willet.
She was not sorry, however, that he came in to-day after the departure of the Intendant. It kept her from her own thoughts, which were bitter enough when alone. Moreover, she never tired of any amount of homage and admiration, come from what quarter it would. De Pean stayed long with Angelique.
The Bourgeois fell dying by the side of the bleeding man who had just received his alms, and in whose protection he had thus risked and lost his own life. "Bravo, Le Gardeur!" exclaimed De Pean; "that was the best stroke ever given in New France. The Golden Dog is done for, and the Bourgeois has paid his debt to the Grand Company." Le Gardeur looked up wildly. "Who is he, De Pean?" exclaimed he.
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.
"'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.
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