ty officers to the Palace of the Intendant, and the great warehouse
of the Friponne, and also into the market-place, and to the residence
of the Lady de Tilly, not knowing in what direction the fury of the
populace might direct itself.

The orders were carried out in a few minutes without noise or confusion.
The Count, with La Corne St. Luc, whose countenance bore a concentration
of sorrow and anger wonderful to see, hastened down to the house of
mourning. Claude Beauharnais and Rigaud de Vaudreuil followed hastily
after them. They pushed through the crowd that filled the Rue Buade,
and the people took off their hats, while the air resounded with
denunciations of the Friponne and appeals for vengeance upon the
assassin of the Bourgeois.

The Governor and his companions were moved to tears at the sight of
their murdered friend lying in his bloody vesture, which was open to
enable the worthy Dr. Gauthier, who had run in all haste, to examine the
still oozing wound. The Recollet Brother Daniel still knelt in silent
prayer at his feet, while Dame Rochelle with trembling hands arranged
the drapery decently over her dead master, repeating to herself:

"It is the end of trouble, and God has mercifully taken him away before
he empties the vials of his wrath upon this New France, and gives it up
for a possession to our enemies! What says the prophet? 'The righteous
perisheth and no man layeth it to heart, and merciful men are taken
away, none considering that the righteous are taken away from the evil
to come!'"

The very heart of La Corne St. Luc seemed bursting in his bosom, and he
choked with agony as he placed his hand upon the forehead of his friend,
and reflected that the good Bourgeois had fallen by the sword of his
godson, the old man's pride,--Le Gardeur de Repentigny!

"Had death come to him on the broad, common road of mortality,--had he
died like a soldier on the battlefield," exclaimed La Corne, "I would
have had no spite at fate. But to be stabbed in the midst of his good
deeds of alms, and by the hand of one whom he loved! Yes, by God! I will
say it! and by one who loved him! Oh, it is terrible, Count! Terrible
and shameful to me as if it had been the deed of my own son!"

"La Corne, I feel with you the grief and shame of such a tragedy. But
there is a fearful mystery in this thing which we cannot yet unravel.
They say the Chevalier de Pean dropped an expression that sounded like
a plot. I cannot think Le Ga