--"who was as cold as ice and
combustible as gunpowder." Healths were drunk to His Majesty King
Charles, to His Royal Highness the Duke of York, to our councillors of
the Company, to our governors of the fur-posts, and to the captains.
Then the Duke of York himself lifted the cup to Pierre Radisson's
honour; whereat the young courtiers raised such a cheering, the grim
silence of Pierre Radisson's detractors passed unnoticed. After the
Duke of York had withdrawn, our riotous sparks threw off all restraint.
On bended knee they drank to that fair evil woman whom King Louis had
sent to ensnare King Charles. Odds were offered on how long her power
with the king would last. Then followed toasts to a list of
second-rate names, dancing girls and French milliners, who kept place
of assignation for the dissolute crew, and maids of honour, who were no
maids of honour, but adventuresses in the pay of great men to advance
their interest with the king, and riffraff women whose names history
hath done well to forget. To these toasts Colonel Blood and Pierre
Radisson and I sat with inverted glasses.

While the inn was ringing to the shouts of the revellers, the
freebooter leaned across to Pierre Radisson.

"Gad's name if they like you," he mumbled drunkenly.

"Who?" asked Radisson.

"Fur Company," explained Blood. "They hate you! So they do me! But
if the king favours you, they've got to have you," and he laughed to
himself.

"That's the way with me," he whispered in drunken confidence to M.
Radisson. "What a deuce?" he asked, turning drowsily to the table.
"What's my boy doing?"

Young Lieutenant Blood was to his feet holding a reaming glass high as
his head.

"Gentlemen, I give you the sweet savage!" he cried, "the Diana of the
snows--a thistle like a rose--ice that burns--a pauper that spurns--"

"Curse me if he doesn't mean that saucy wench late come from your north
fort," interrupted the father.

My hands were itching to throw a glass in the face of father or son,
but Pierre Radisson restrained me.

"More to be done sometimes by doing nothing," he whispered.

The young fellows were on their knees draining bumpers; but Colonel
Blood was rambling again.

"He gives 'em that saucy brat, does he? Gad's me, I'd give her to
perdition for twopenny-worth o' rat poison! Look you, Radisson, 'tis
what I did once; but she's come back! Curse me, I could 'a' done it
neater and cheaper myself--twopenny-worth o' poison