out the sanction of his jealous patroness
at Court. He might possess a hundred mistresses if he liked, and be
congratulated on his bonnes fortunes, but not one wife, under the
penalty of losing the favor of La Pompadour, who had chosen a future
wife for him out of the crowd of intriguantes who fluttered round her,
basking like butterflies in the sunshine of her semi-regal splendor.

Bigot had passed a wild night at the Palace among the partners of the
Grand Company, who had met to curse the peace and drink a speedy renewal
of the war. Before sitting down to their debauch, however, they had
discussed, with more regard to their peculiar interests than to the
principles of the Decalogue, the condition and prospects of the Company.

The prospect was so little encouraging to the associates that they were
glad when the Intendant bade them cheer up and remember that all was
not lost that was in danger. "Philibert would yet undergo the fate of
Actaeon, and be torn in pieces by his own dog." Bigot, as he said this,
glanced from Le Gardeur to De Pean, with a look and a smile which caused
Cadet, who knew its meaning, to shrug his shoulders and inquire of De
Pean privately, "Is the trap set?"

"It is set!" replied De Pean in a whisper. "It will spring to-morrow and
catch our game, I hope."

"You must have a crowd and a row, mind! this thing, to be safe, must be
done openly," whispered Cadet in reply.

"We will have both a crowd and a row, never fear! The new preacher of
the Jesuits, who is fresh from Italy and knows nothing about our plot,
is to inveigh in the market against the Jansenists and the Honnetes
Gens. If that does not make both a crowd and a row, I do not know what
will."

"You are a deep devil, De Pean! So deep that I doubt you will cheat
yourself yet," answered Cadet gruffly.

"Never fear, Cadet! To-morrow night shall see the Palace gay with
illumination, and the Golden Dog in darkness and despair."

CHAPTER XLVII. A DRAWN GAME.

Le Gardeur was too drunk to catch the full drift of the Intendant's
reference to the Bourgeois under the metaphor of Actaeon torn in pieces
by his own dog. He only comprehended enough to know that something was
intended to the disparagement of the Philiberts, and firing up at the
idea, swore loudly that "neither the Intendant nor all the Grand Company
in mass should harm a hair of the Bourgeois's head!"

"It is the dog!" exclaimed De Pean, "which the Company will hang, not
hi