"Would that Pierre had not gone to St. Ann's to-day!" cried she.
"My master! my noble, good master! I feel there is evil abroad for him in the market to-day." She turned, as was her wont in time of trouble, to the open Bible that ever lay upon her table, and sought strength in meditation upon its sacred pages.
There was much stir in the market when the Bourgeois began his accustomed walk among the stalls, stopping to converse with such friends as he met, and especially with the poor and infirm, who did not follow him--he hated to be followed,--but who stood waiting his arrival at certain points which he never failed to pass. The Bourgeois knew that his poor almsmen would be standing there, and he would no more avoid them than he would avoid the Governor.
A group of girls very gaily dressed loitered through the market, purchasing bouquets of the last of autumnal flowers, and coquetting with the young men of fashion who chose the market-place for their morning promenade, and who spent their smiles and wit freely, and sometimes their money, upon the young ladies they expected to find there.
This morning the Demoiselles Grandmaison and Hebert were cheapening immortelles and dry flowers to decorate their winter vases,--a pleasant fashion, not out of date in the city at the present day.
The attention of these young ladies was quite as much taken up with the talk of their cavaliers as with their bargaining when a quick exclamation greeted them from a lady on horseback, accompanied by the Chevalier de Pean. She drew bridle sharply in front of the group, and leaning down from her saddle gave her hand to the ladies, bidding them good morning in a cheery voice which there was no mistaking, although her face was invisible behind her veil. It was Angelique des Meloises, more gay and more fascinating than ever.
She noticed two gentlemen in the group. "Oh, pardon me, Messieurs Le Mercier and d'Estebe!" said she. "I did not perceive you. My veil is so in the way!" She pushed it aside coquettishly, and gave a finger to each of the gentlemen, who returned her greeting with extreme politeness.
"Good morning! say you, Angelique?" exclaimed Mademoiselle Hebert;
"it is a good noon. You have slept rarely! How bright and fresh you look, darling!"
"Do I not!" laughed Angelique in reply. "It is the morning air and a good conscience make it! Are you buying flowers? I have been to Sillery for mine!" said she, patting her blooming cheeks with the end of her riding-whip. She had no time for further parley, for her attention was suddenly directed by De Pean to some stir upon the other side of the market, with an invitation to her to ride over and see what was the matter. Angelique at once wheeled her horse to accompany De Pean.
The group of girls felt themselves eclipsed and overborne by the queenly airs of Angelique, and were glad when she moved off, fearing that by some adroit manoeuvre she would carry off their cavaliers.
It needed but a word, as they knew, to draw them all after her.
Angelique, under the lead of De Pean, rode quickly towards the scene of confusion, where men were gesticulating fiercely and uttering loud, angry words such as usually precede the drawing of swords and the rush of combatants.
To her surprise, she recognized Le Gardeur de Repentigny, very drunk and wild with anger, in the act of leaping off his horse with oaths of vengeance against some one whom she could not distinguish in the throng.
Le Gardeur had just risen from the gaming-table, where he had been playing all night. He was maddened with drink and excited by great losses, which in his rage he called unfair.
Colonel St. Remy had rooked him at piquet, he said, and refused him the chance of an honorable gamester to win back some part of his losses. His antagonist had left the Palace like a sneak, and he was riding round the city to find him, and horsewhip him if he would not fight like a gentleman.
Le Gardeur was accompanied by the Sieur de Lantagnac, who, by splendid dissipation, had won his whole confidence. Le Gardeur, when drunk, thought the world did not contain a finer fellow than Lantagnac, whom he thoroughly despised when sober.
At a hint from De Pean, the Sieur de Lantagnac had clung to Le Gardeur that morning like his shadow, had drunk with him again and again, exciting his wrath against St. Remy; but apparently keeping his own head clear enough for whatever mischief De Pean had put into it.
They rode together to the market-place, hearing that St. Remy was at the sermon. Their object, as Le Gardeur believed, was to put an unpardonable insult upon St. Remy, by striking him with his whip and forcing him to fight a duel with Le Gardeur or his friend. The reckless De Lantagnac asserted loudly, he "did not care a straw which!"
Le Gardeur and De Lantagnac rode furiously through the market, heedless of what they encountered or whom they ran over, and were followed by a yell of indignation from the people, who recognized them as gentlemen of the Grand Company.
It chanced that at that moment a poor almsman of the Bourgeois Philibert was humbly and quietly leaning on his crutches, listening with bowing head and smiling lips to the kind inquiries of his benefactor as he received his accustomed alms.
De Lantagnac rode up furiously, followed by Le Gardeur. De Lantagnac recognized the Bourgeois, who stood in his way talking to the crippled soldier. He cursed him between his teeth, and lashed his horse with intent to ride him down as if by accident.
The Bourgeois saw them approach and motioned them to stop, but in vain. The horse of De Lantagnac just swerved in its course, and without checking his speed ran over the crippled man, who instantly rolled in the dust, his face streaming with blood from a sharp stroke of the horse's shoe upon his forehead.
Immediately following De Lantagnac came Le Gardeur, lashing his horse and yelling like a demon to all to clear the way.