same, Cadet, I fancy--Satan or she! But where is
Bigot? I expected him here."

"Oh, he is in a tantrum to-night, and would not come. That piece of his
at Beaumanoir is a thorn in his flesh, and a snow-ball on his spirits.
She is taming him. By St. Cocufin! Bigot loves that woman!"

"I told you that before, Cadet. I saw it a month ago, and was sure of it
on that night when he would not bring her up to show her to us."

"Such a fool, De Pean, to care for any woman! What will Bigot do with
her, think you?"

"How should I know? Send her adrift some fine day I suppose, down the
Riviere du Loup. He will, if he is a sensible man. He dare not marry any
woman without license from La Pompadour, you know. The jolly fish-woman
holds a tight rein over her favorites. Bigot may keep as many women as
Solomon--the more the merrier; but woe befall him if he marries without
La Pompadour's consent! They say she herself dotes on Bigot,--that is
the reason." De Pean really believed that was the reason; and certainly
there was reason for suspecting it.

"Cadet! Cadet!" exclaimed several voices. "You are fined a basket of
champagne for leaving the table."

"I'll pay it," replied he, "and double it; but it is hot as Tartarus in
here. I feel like a grilled salmon." And indeed, Cadet's broad, sensual
face was red and glowing as a harvest moon. He walked a little unsteady
too, and his naturally coarse voice sounded thick, but his hard brain
never gave way beyond a certain point under any quantity of liquor.

"I am going to get some fresh air," said he. "I shall walk as far as the
Fleur-de-Lis. They never go to bed at that jolly old inn."

"I will go with you!" "And I!" exclaimed a dozen voices.

"Come on then; we will all go to the old dog-hole, where they keep the
best brandy in Quebec. It is smuggled of course, but that makes it all
the better."

Mine host of the Taverne de Menut combatted this opinion of the goodness
of the liquors at the Fleur-de-Lis. His brandy had paid the King's
duties, and bore the stamp of the Grand Company, he said; and he
appealed to every gentleman present on the goodness of his liquors.

Cadet and the rest took another round of it to please the landlord, and
sallied out with no little noise and confusion. Some of them struck
up the famous song which, beyond all others, best expressed the gay,
rollicking spirit of the French nation and of the times of the old
regime:

"'Vive Henri Quatre!