"They talk about those Jansenist convulsionnaires at the tomb of Master Paris, which are setting all France by the ears," exclaimed Monredin, "but I say there is nothing so contagious as the drinking of a glass of wine like that."
"And the glass gives us convulsions too, Monredin, if we try it too often, and no miracle about it either," remarked Poulariez.
Monredin looked up, red and puffy, as if needing a bridle to check his fast gait.
"But they say we are to have peace soon. Is that true, Des Meloises?" asked Poulariez. "You ought to know what is under the cards before they are played."
"No, I don't know; and I hope the report is not true. Who wants peace yet? It would ruin the King's friends in the Colony." Des Meloises looked as statesmanlike as he could when delivering this dictum.
"Ruin the King's friends! Who are they, Des Meloises?" asked Poulariez, with a look of well-assumed surprise.
"Why, the associates of the Grand Company, to be sure! What other friends has the King got in New France?"
"Really! I thought he had the Regiment of Bearn for a number of them--to say nothing of the honest people of the Colony," replied Poulariez, impatiently.
"The Honnetes Gens, you mean!" exclaimed Des Meloises. "Well, Poulariez, all I have to say is that if this Colony is to be kept up for the sake of a lot of shopkeepers, wood-choppers, cobblers, and farmers, the sooner the King hands it over to the devil or the English the better!"
Poulariex looked indignant enough; but from the others a loud laugh followed this sally.
The Chevalier des Meloises pulled out his watch. "I must be gone to the Palace," said he. "I dare say Cadet, Varin, and Penisault will have balanced the ledgers by this time, and the Intendant, who is the devil for business on such occasions, will have settled the dividends for the quarter--the only part of the business I care about."
"But don't you help them with the work a little?" asked Poulariez.
"Not I; I leave business to them that have a vocation for it.
Besides, I think Cadet, Vargin, and Penisault like to keep the inner ring of the company to themselves." He turned to Emeric: "I hope there will be a good dividend to-night, Emeric," said he. "I owe you some revenge at piquet, do I not?"
"You capoted me last night at the Taverne de Menut, and I had three aces and three kings."
"But I had a quatorze, and took the fishes," replied Des Meloises.
"Well, Chevalier, I shall win them back to-night. I hope the dividend will be good: in that way I too may share in the 'business' of the Grand Company."
"Good-by, Chevalier; remember me to St. Blague!" (This was a familiar sobriquet of Bigot.) "Tis the best name going. If I had an heir for the old chateau on the Adour, I would christen him Bigot for luck."
The Chevalier des Meloises left the officers and proceeded down the steep road that led to the Palace. The gardens were quiet to-day-- a few loungers might be seen in the magnificent alleys, pleached walks, and terraces; beyond these gardens, however, stretched the King's wharves and the magazines of the Friponne. These fairly swarmed with men loading and unloading ships and bateaux, and piling and unpiling goods.
The Chevalier glanced with disdain at the magazines, and flourishing his cane, mounted leisurely the broad steps of the Palace, and was at once admitted to the council-room.
"Better late than never, Chevalier des Meloises!" exclaimed Bigot, carelessly glancing at him as he took a seat at the board, where sat Cadet, Varin, Penisault, and the leading spirits of the Grand Company. "You are in double luck to-day. The business is over, and Dame Friponne has laid a golden egg worth a Jew's tooth for each partner of the Company."
The Chevalier did not notice, or did not care for, the slight touch of sarca** in the Intendant's tone. "Thanks, Bigot!" drawled he.
"My eggs shall be hatched to-night down at Menut's. I expect to have little more left than the shell of it to-morrow."
"Well, never mind! We have considered all that, Chevalier. What one loses another gets. It is all in the family. Look here," continued he, laying his finger upon a page of the ledger that lay open before him, "Mademoiselle Angelique des Meloises is now a shareholder in the Grand Company. The list of high, fair, and noble ladies of the Court who are members of the Company will be honored by the addition of the name of your charming sister."
The Chevalier's eyes sparkled with delight as he read Angelique's name on the book. A handsome sum of five digits stood to her credit. He bowed his thanks with many warm expressions of his sense of the honor done his sister by "placing her name on the roll of the ladies of the Court who honor the Company by accepting a share of its dividends."
"I hope Mademoiselle des Meloises will not refuse this small mark of our respect," observed Bigot, feeling well assured she would not deem it a small one.
"Little fear of that!" muttered Cadet, whose bad opinion of the *** was incorrigible. "The game fowls of Versailles scratch jewels out of every dung-hill, and Angelique des Meloises has longer claws than any of them!"
Cadet's ill-natured remark was either unheard or unheeded; besides, he was privileged to say anything. Des Meloises bowed with an air of perfect complaisance to the Intendant as he answered,--"I guarantee the perfect satisfaction of Angelique with this marked compliment of the Grand Company. She will, I am sure, appreciate the kindness of the Intendant as it deserves."
Cadet and Varin exchanged smiles, not unnoticed by Bigot, who smiled too. "Yes, Chevalier," said he, "the Company gives this token of its admiration for the fairest lady in New France. We have bestowed premiums upon fine flax and fat cattle: why not upon beauty, grace, and wit embodied in handsome women?"
"Angelique will be highly flattered, Chevalier," replied he, "at the distinction. She must thank you herself, as I am sure she will."
