rmined to harass him. He sent Pierre de Repentigny, then a
lieutenant in the provincials and a young fellow of the rashest temper,
to billet in Philibert's house, though he had no right to do so, as
Philibert, being a King's Munitioner, was exempt from billeting. Bigot
knew there would be a quarrel. It turned out as he had foreseen.
Philibert stood at his door and refused to allow Repentigny to enter.
Repentigny insisted. Philibert loudly claimed his right, and the
protection of the law from the outrage. Repentigny covered him with
sneers, and pushed inward across the threshold. The merchant upbraided
him for his want of respect for grey hairs and the rights of the people.
Repentigny thereupon flew into a rage. He rushed on Philibert, drew his
sword with a curse and thrust him through the body, which fell out of
the door upon the street, and the citizen died in a few minutes."

"How frightful!"

"Philibert's remains were followed into the cathedral by a weeping
multitude. A number of us officers attended as a protest against Bigot.
In the evening Repentigny was burnt in effigy by the masses in the
square of Notre Dame des Victoires in the Lower Town. Philibert's son
swore eternal vengeance, and had inserted the great stone over the door
of the mansion which bore the figure that you have seen, of the golden
dog crouching and gnawing a bone, and underneath it the legend:

"_I am a dog who gnaws a bone,
In gnawing it I take my rest;
A day will come which has not come,
When I shall bite him who bit me._"

"Subsequently Repentigny was always held in disgrace, and after the loss
of Canada he took refuge on the other side of the world. They say young
Philibert has followed him thither. What do you think of the story?"

Germain shuddered and did not answer.

"Are you willing to wear the name?"

He shuddered again and hesitated. Finally he answered with a white
face--

"I am willing to wear it long enough to see Versailles. But with your
permission only."

"Not so, Germain, I entreat you as a free man."

"It is hard. It is to give up so much for ever."

"This sacrifice is the call of Honour, which stands above every
consideration. Promise to remember that in deciding."

"I promise it," exclaimed Germain, who stood pondering. "Yet, sir, tell
me one thing."

"Willingly."

"That should I decide to go, I am at least not to lose your affection."

"No, no, Germain, you have it for ever. Have no fear