y fairly run the
Intendant down, Froumois: there is not a girl in the city but laces
her boots to distraction since it came out that the Intendant admires
a neat, trim ankle. I had a trim ankle myself when I was the Charming
Josephine, M. Froumois!"

"And you have yet, dame,--if I am a judge," replied Froumois, glancing
down with an air of gallantry.

"And you are accounted a judge--and ought to be a good one, Froumois! A
gentleman can't live at court as you have done, and learn nothing of
the points of a fine woman!" The good dame liked a compliment as well as
ever she had done at Lake Beauport in her hey-day of youth and beauty.

"Why, no, dame," replied he; "one can't live at Court and learn nothing!
We study the points of fine women as we do fine statuary in the gallery
of the Louvre, only the living beauties will compel us to see their best
points if they have them!" M. Froumois looked very critical as he took a
pinch from the dame's box, which she held out to him. Her hand and wrist
were yet unexceptionable, as he could not help remarking.

"But what think you, really, of our Quebec beauties? Are they not a good
imitation of Versailles?" asked the dame.

"A good imitation! They are the real porcelain! For beauty and
affability Versailles cannot exceed them. So says the Intendant, and
so say I!," replied the gay valet. "Why, look you, Dame Tremblay!"
continued he, extending his well-ringed fingers, "they do give gentlemen
no end of hopes here! We have only to stretch out our ten digits and a
ladybird will light on every one of them! It was so at Versailles--it
is just so here. The ladies in Quebec do know how to appreciate a real
gentleman!"

"Yes, that is what makes the ladies of Ville Marie so jealous and
angry," replied the dame; "the King's officers and all the great catches
land at Quebec first, when they come out from France, and we take toll
of them! We don't let a gentleman of them get up to Ville Marie without
a Quebec engagement tacked to his back, so that all Ville Marie can
read it, and die of pure spite! I say we, Froumois; but you understand I
speak of myself only as the Charming Josephine of Lake Beauport. I must
content myself now with telling over my past glories."

"Well dame, I don't know but you are glorious yet! But tell me, what has
got over my master to-day? Was the unknown lady unkind? Something has
angered him, I am sure!"

"I cannot tell you, Froumois: women's moods are not to be