Should the name reach him through the _Gazette_ as being worn by you, it
might lead to the Bastille. That I would not willingly see befall you,
dear boy."

Germain was touched with the kindness in his friend's voice.

"What should I do?" he asked, faltering.

"Remain at Eaux Tranquilles, resume your own name, and enjoy life
quietly, with all I possess yours."

Tears rose in the young man's eyes. "Your goodness, my second father, is
incredible."

"You remain, then?" asked de Bailleul eagerly. The conflict of the
moonlight night was once more going on in Lecour's breast. The forces on
both sides were strong.

"Give me an hour to think, sir. See, this paragraph does not contain any
risk; the word is printed 'Refsentigny.'"

The Chevalier scanned it anew.

"True," said he. "But," he continued, "did you not know there is a
shadow over this name? Have you heard the story of the 'Golden Dog'?"

"Of Quebec?"

"Yes."

Germain's eyes opened with interest.

"I have passed a great stone house there with a golden dog and an
inscription above its door. I could not but remember it, the more so
that my father refused to utter a word concerning it, though it was
clear he knew some explanation. It was a curious black-faced house
three stories high, eight windows wide, a stiff row of peaked dormers
along the attic. From the edge of the cliff it looked over the whole
country. There were massive steps of stone before it as if gushing out
of the door and spreading on every side; above the door, which was tall
and narrow, was the stone with the sculpture of the dog. Is that the
golden dog you mean?"

"It is. There happened the most luckless deed in New France. The man who
built that house was the citizen Nicholas Philibert, who had risen to
wealth out of his business of baker, and was respected throughout the
whole town. Bigot, the Intendant of the colony, was bringing the public
finances to appalling ruin by his thefts and extravagances--for we all
knew he was a robber--and was driving the people to madness. The
Bourgeois Philibert was their mouthpiece. If the chateau of St. Louis
stood out as the castle of the military officialdom and the Intendants
Palace as the castle of the civil officialdom, the house of the
Bourgeois Philibert was the castle of the people, standing against them
perched upon the cliff at the head of the artery of traffic which united
the Upper and Lower towns. It was too marked a challenge. Bigot
dete