od the peasant's murder of King Louis, so he would have seen a
logical end to a terrible game in Bigot's death at the hand of Voban.
Possibly he wondered that Voban did not strike, and he himself took
a delight in showing him his own wrongs occasionally. Then, again,
Doltaire might wish for Bigot's death, to succeed him in his place!
But this I put by as improbable, for the Intendant's post was not his
ambition, or, favourite of La Pompadour as he was, he would, desiring,
have long ago achieved that end. Moreover, every evidence showed that
he would gladly return to France, for his clear brain foresaw the final
ruin of the colony and the triumph of the British. He had once said in
my hearing:

"Those swaggering Englishmen will keep coming on. They are too stupid to
turn back. The eternal sameness of it all will so distress us we shall
awake one morning, find them at our bedsides, give a kick, and die from
sheer ennui. They'll use our banners to boil their fat puddings in,
they'll roast oxen in the highways, and after our girls have married
them they'll turn them into kitchen wenches with frowsy skirts and
ankles like beeves!"

But, indeed, beneath his dangerous irony there was a strain of
impishness, and he would, if need be, laugh at his own troubles, and
torture himself as he had tortured others. This morning he was full of a
carbolic humour. As the razor came to his neck he said:

"Voban, a barber must have patience. It is a sad thing to mistake friend
for enemy. What is a friend? Is it one who says sweet words?"

There was a pause, in which the shaving went on, and then he continued:

"Is it he who says, I have eaten Voban's bread, and Voban shall
therefore go to prison, or be hurried to Walhalla? Or is it he who stays
the iron hand, who puts nettles in Voban's cold, cold bed, that he may
rise early and go forth among the heroes?"

I do not think Voban understood that, through some freak of purpose,
Doltaire was telling him thus obliquely he had saved him from Bigot's
cruelty, from prison or death. Once or twice he glanced at me, but not
meaningly, for Doltaire was seated opposite a mirror, and could see each
motion made by either of us. Presently Doltaire said to me idly:

"I dine to-day at the Seigneur Duvarney's. You will be glad to hear
that mademoiselle bids fair to rival the charming Madame Cournal. Her
followers are as many, so they say, and all in one short year she has
suddenly thrown out a thousand