The Golden Dog [75]
vice!"
"Oh! a woman has got him! eh, Cadet? Pray who is she? When once a woman catches a fellow by the gills, he is a dead mackerel: his fate is fixed for good or bad in this world. But who is she, Cadet?--she must be a clever one," said Bigot, sententiously.
"So she is! and she is too clever for young De Repentigny: she has got her pretty fingers in his gills, and can carry her fish to whatever market she chooses!"
"Cadet! Cadet! out with it!" repeated a dozen voices. "Yes, out with it!" repeated Bigot. "We are all companions under the rose, and there are no secrets here about wine or women!"
"Well, I would not give a filbert for all the women born since mother Eve!" said Cadet, flinging a nut-shell at the ceiling. "But this is a rare one, I must confess. Now stop! Don't cry out again 'Cadet! out with it!' and I will tell you! What think you of the fair, jolly Mademoiselle des Meloises?"
"Angelique? Is De Repentigny in love with her?" Bigot looked quite interested now.
"In love with her? He would go on all fours after her, if she wanted him! He does almost, as it is."
Bigot placed a finger on his brow and pondered for a moment. "You say well, Cadet; if De Repentigny has fallen in love with that girl, he is ours forever! Angelique des Meloises never lets go her ox until she offers him up as a burnt offering! The Honnetes Gens will lose one of the best trout in their stream if Angelique has the tickling of him!"
Bigot did not seem to be quite pleased with Cadet's information. He rose from his seat somewhat flushed and excited by this talk respecting Angelique des Meloises. He walked up and down the room a few turns, recovered his composure, and sat down again.
"Come, gentlemen," said he; "too much care will kill a cat! Let us change our talk to a merrier tune; fill up, and we will drink to the loves of De Repentigny and the fair Angelique! I am much mistaken if we do not find in her the dea ex machina to help us out of our trouble with the Honnetes Gens!"
The glasses were filled and emptied. Cards and dice were then called for. The company drew their chairs into a closer circle round the table; deep play, and deeper drinking, set in. The Palais resounded with revelry until the morning sun looked into the great window, blushing red at the scene of drunken riot that had become habitual in the Palace of the Intendant.
CHAPTER XV.
THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE.
The few words of sympathy dropped by Bigot in the secret chamber had fallen like manna on the famine of Caroline's starving affections as she remained on the sofa, where she had half fallen, pressing her bosom with her hands as if a new-born thought lay there. "I am sure he meant it!" repeated she to herself. "I feel that his words were true, and for the moment his look and tone were those of my happy maiden days in Acadia! I was too proud then of my fancied power, and thought Bigot's love deserved the surrender of my very conscience to his keeping. I forgot God in my love for him; and, alas for me! that now is part of my punishment! I feel not the sin of loving him! My penitence is not sincere when I can still rejoice in his smile! Woe is me! Bigot! Bigot! unworthy as thou art, I cannot forsake thee! I would willingly die at thy feet, only spurn me not away, nor give to another the love that belongs to me, and for which I have paid the price of my immortal soul!"
She relapsed into a train of bitter reflections as her thoughts reverted to herself. Silence had been gradually creeping through the house. The noisy debauch was at an end. There were trampings, voices, and footfalls for a while longer, and then they died away. Everything was still and silent as the grave. She knew the feast was over and the guests departed; but not whether Bigot had accompanied them.
She sprang up as a low knock came to her door, thinking it was he, come to bid her adieu. It was with a feeling of disappointment she heard the voice of Dame Tremblay saying, "My Lady, may I enter?"
Caroline ran her fingers through
"Oh! a woman has got him! eh, Cadet? Pray who is she? When once a woman catches a fellow by the gills, he is a dead mackerel: his fate is fixed for good or bad in this world. But who is she, Cadet?--she must be a clever one," said Bigot, sententiously.
"So she is! and she is too clever for young De Repentigny: she has got her pretty fingers in his gills, and can carry her fish to whatever market she chooses!"
"Cadet! Cadet! out with it!" repeated a dozen voices. "Yes, out with it!" repeated Bigot. "We are all companions under the rose, and there are no secrets here about wine or women!"
"Well, I would not give a filbert for all the women born since mother Eve!" said Cadet, flinging a nut-shell at the ceiling. "But this is a rare one, I must confess. Now stop! Don't cry out again 'Cadet! out with it!' and I will tell you! What think you of the fair, jolly Mademoiselle des Meloises?"
"Angelique? Is De Repentigny in love with her?" Bigot looked quite interested now.
"In love with her? He would go on all fours after her, if she wanted him! He does almost, as it is."
Bigot placed a finger on his brow and pondered for a moment. "You say well, Cadet; if De Repentigny has fallen in love with that girl, he is ours forever! Angelique des Meloises never lets go her ox until she offers him up as a burnt offering! The Honnetes Gens will lose one of the best trout in their stream if Angelique has the tickling of him!"
Bigot did not seem to be quite pleased with Cadet's information. He rose from his seat somewhat flushed and excited by this talk respecting Angelique des Meloises. He walked up and down the room a few turns, recovered his composure, and sat down again.
"Come, gentlemen," said he; "too much care will kill a cat! Let us change our talk to a merrier tune; fill up, and we will drink to the loves of De Repentigny and the fair Angelique! I am much mistaken if we do not find in her the dea ex machina to help us out of our trouble with the Honnetes Gens!"
The glasses were filled and emptied. Cards and dice were then called for. The company drew their chairs into a closer circle round the table; deep play, and deeper drinking, set in. The Palais resounded with revelry until the morning sun looked into the great window, blushing red at the scene of drunken riot that had become habitual in the Palace of the Intendant.
CHAPTER XV.
THE CHARMING JOSEPHINE.
The few words of sympathy dropped by Bigot in the secret chamber had fallen like manna on the famine of Caroline's starving affections as she remained on the sofa, where she had half fallen, pressing her bosom with her hands as if a new-born thought lay there. "I am sure he meant it!" repeated she to herself. "I feel that his words were true, and for the moment his look and tone were those of my happy maiden days in Acadia! I was too proud then of my fancied power, and thought Bigot's love deserved the surrender of my very conscience to his keeping. I forgot God in my love for him; and, alas for me! that now is part of my punishment! I feel not the sin of loving him! My penitence is not sincere when I can still rejoice in his smile! Woe is me! Bigot! Bigot! unworthy as thou art, I cannot forsake thee! I would willingly die at thy feet, only spurn me not away, nor give to another the love that belongs to me, and for which I have paid the price of my immortal soul!"
She relapsed into a train of bitter reflections as her thoughts reverted to herself. Silence had been gradually creeping through the house. The noisy debauch was at an end. There were trampings, voices, and footfalls for a while longer, and then they died away. Everything was still and silent as the grave. She knew the feast was over and the guests departed; but not whether Bigot had accompanied them.
She sprang up as a low knock came to her door, thinking it was he, come to bid her adieu. It was with a feeling of disappointment she heard the voice of Dame Tremblay saying, "My Lady, may I enter?"
Caroline ran her fingers through