Cadet's coarse remark excited the mirth of the Intendant. The influences of the great hall were more powerful than those of the secret chamber. He replied curtly, however—“I have excused the lady from coming, Cadet. She is ill, or she does not please to come, or she has a private fancy of her own to nurse—any reason is enough to excuse a lady, or for a gentleman to cease pressing her.”
“Dear me!” muttered Cadet, “the wind blows fresh from a new quarter! It is easterly, and betokens a storm!” and with drunken gravity he commenced singing a hunting refrain of Louis XIV.:
“'Sitot qu'il voit sa Chienne
Il quitte tout pour elle.”'
Bigot burst out into immoderate laughter. “Cadet,” said he, “you are, when drunk, the greatest ruffian in Christendom, and the biggest knave when sober. Let the lady sleep in peace, while we drink ourselves blind in her honor. Bring in brandy, valets, and we will not look for day until midnight booms on the old clock of the Château.”
The loud knocking of Philibert in the great hall reverberated again and again through the house. Bigot bade the valets go see who disturbed the Château in that bold style.
“Let no one in!” added he “'tis against the rule to open the doors when the Grand Company are met for business! Take whips, valets, and scourge the insolent beggars away. Some miserable habitans, I warrant, whining for the loss of their eggs and bacon taken by the King's purveyors!”
A servant returned with a card on a silver salver. “An officer in uniform waits to see your Excellency: he brings orders from the Governor,” said he to the Intendant.
Bigot looked at the card with knitted brows; fire sparkled in his eyes as he read the name.
“Colonel Philibert!” exclaimed he, “Aide-de-Camp of the Governor! What the fiend brings HIM at such a time? Do you hear?” continued he, turning to Varin. “It is your friend from Louisbourg, who was going to put you in irons, and send you to France for trial when the mutinous garrison threatened to surrender the place if we did not pay them.”
Varin was not so intoxicated but the name of Philibert roused his anger. He set his cup down with a bang upon the table. “I will not taste a drop more till he is gone,” said he; “curse Galissonière's crooked neck—could he not have selected a more welcome messenger to send to Beaumanoir? But I have got his name in my list of debtors, and he shall pay up one day for his insolence at Louisbourg.”
“Tut, tut, shut up your books! you are too mercantile for gentlemen,” replied Bigot. “The question is, shall we allow Colonel Philibert to bring his orders into the hall? Par Dieu! we are scarcely presentable!”
But whether presentable or no, the words were scarcely spoken, when, impatient at the delay, Philibert took advantage of the open door and entered the great hall. He stood in utter amazement for a moment at the scene of drunken riot which he beheld. The inflamed faces, the confusion of tongues, the disorder, filth, and stench of the prolonged debauch sickened him, while the sight of so many men of rank and high office revelling at such an hour raised a feeling of indignation which he had difficulty in keeping down while he delivered his message to the Intendant.
Bigot, however, was too shrewd to be wanting in politeness. “Welcome, Colonel Philibert,” said he; “you are an unexpected guest, but a welcome one! Come and taste the hospitality of Beaumanoir before you deliver your message. Bustle, valets, bring fresh cups and the fullest carafes for Colonel Philibert.”
“Thanks for your politeness, Chevalier! Your Excellency will please excuse me if I deliver my message at once. My time is not my own to-day, so I will not sit down. His Excellency the Governor desires your presence and that of the Royal Commissaries at the council of war this afternoon. Despatches have just arrived by the Fleur-de-Lis from home, and the council must assemble at once.”
A red flush rested upon the brow of Philibert as in his mind he measured the important business of the council with the fitness of the men whom he summoned to attend it. He declined the offer of wine, and stepped backward from the table, with a bow to the Intendant and the company, and was about to depart, when a loud voice on the further side of the table cried out—
“It is he, by all that is sacred! Pierre Philibert! wait!” Le Gardeur de Repentigny rushed like a storm through the hall, upsetting chairs and guests in his advance. He ran towards Colonel Philibert, who, not recognizing the flushed face and disordered figure that greeted him, shrank back from his embrace.
“My God! do you not know me, Pierre?” exclaimed Le Gardeur, wounded to the quick by the astonished look of his friend. “I am Le Gardeur de Repentigny! O dear friend, look and recognize me!”
Philibert stood transfixed with surprise and pain, as if an arrow had stricken his eyes. “You! you Le Gardeur de Repentigny? It is impossible! Le Gardeur never looked like you—much less, was ever found among people like these!” The last words were rashly spoken, but fortunately not heard amid the hubbub in the hall, or Philibert's life might have paid the penalty from the excited guests.
“And yet it is true; Pierre, look at me again. I am no other than he whom you drew out of the St. Lawrence, the only brother of Amélie!”
Philibert looked hard in the eyes of Le Gardeur, and doubted no longer. He pressed his old friend to his heart, saying, in a voice full of pathos—
“O Le Gardeur! I recognize you now, but under what change of look and place! Often have I forecast our meeting again, but it was in your pure, virtuous home of Tilly, not in this place. What do you here, Le Gardeur?”
“Forgive me, Pierre, for the shame of meeting me here.” Le Gardeur stood up like a new man in the glance of his friend; the shock seemed to have sobered him at once. “'What do I do here?' say you, O dear friend!” said he, glancing round the hall, “it is easier seen than told what I do here. But by all the saints, I have finished here for to-day! You return to the city at once, Pierre?”
“At once, Le Gardeur. The Governor awaits my return.”
“Then I will return with you. My dear aunt and sister are in the city. News of their arrival reached me here; my duty was to return at once, but the Intendant's wine-cups were too potent for me—curse them, for they have disgraced me in your eyes, Pierre, as well as my own!”
Philibert started at the information that Amélie was in the city. “Amélie in the city?” repeated he, with glad surprise, “I did not expect to be able to salute her and the noble Lady de Tilly so soon.” His heart bounded in secret at the prospect of again seeing this fair girl, who had filled his thoughts for so many years and been the secret spring of so much that was noble and manly in his character.
“Come, Le Gardeur, let us take leave of the Intendant, and return at once to the city, but not in that plight!” added he, smiling, as Le Gardeur, oblivious of all but the pleasure of accompanying him, grasped his arm to leave the great hall. “Not in that garb, Le Gardeur! Bathe, purify, and clean yourself; I will wait outside in the fresh air. The odor of this room stifles me!”
“You are not going to leave us, Le Gardeur!” Varin called, across the table, “and break up good company? Wait till we finish a few more rounds, and we will all go together.”
“I have finished all the rounds for to-day, Varin, may be forever! Colonel Philibert is my dearest friend in life; I must leave even you to go with him, so pray excuse me.”
“You are excused, Le Gardeur.” Bigot spoke very courteously to him, much as he disliked the idea of his companionship with Philibert. “We must all return by the time the Cathedral bells chime noon. Take one parting cup before you go, Le Gardeur, and prevail on Colonel Philibert to do the same, or he will not praise our hospitality, I fear.”
“Not one drop more this day, were it from Jove's own poculum!” Le Gardeur repelled the temptation more readily as he felt a twitch on his sleeve from the hand of Philibert.