ry. Perhaps he had not counted on the burning of the warehouse,
but this would tell now in his favour. He was not a large man, but he
drew himself up with dignity, and continued in a contemptuous tone:

"Because of our splendid victory, I designed to tell you all my plans,
and, pitying your trouble, divide among you at the smallest price, that
all might pay, the corn which now goes to feed the stars."

At that moment some one from the Heights above called out shrilly, "What
lie is in that paper, Francois Bigot?"

I looked up, as did the crowd. A woman stood upon a point of the great
rock, a red robe hanging on her, her hair free over her shoulders, her
finger pointing at the Intendant. Bigot only glanced up, then smoothed
out the paper.

He said to the people in a clear but less steady voice, for I could
see that the woman had disturbed him, "Go pray to be forgiven for your
insolence and folly. His most Christian Majesty is triumphant upon the
Ohio. The English have been killed in thousands, and their General with
them. Do you not hear the joy-bells in the Church of Our Lady of the
Victories? and more--listen!"

There burst from the Heights on the other side a cannon shot, and
then another and another. There was a great commotion, and many ran
to Bigot's carriage, reached in to touch his hand, and called down
blessings on him.

"See that you save the other granaries," he urged, adding, with a sneer,
"and forget not to bless La Friponne in your prayers!"

It was a clever piece of acting. Presently from the Heights above came
the woman's voice again, so piercing that the crowd turned to her.

"Francois Bigot is a liar and a traitor!" she cried. "Beware of Francois
Bigot! God has cast him out."

A dark look came upon Bigot's face; but presently he turned, and gave a
sign to some one near the palace. The doors of the courtyard flew open,
and out came squad after squad of soldiers. In a moment, they, with the
people, were busy carrying water to pour upon the side of the endangered
warehouse. Fortunately the wind was with them, else it and the palace
also would have been burned that night.

The Intendant still stood in his carriage watching and listening to the
cheers of the people. At last he beckoned to Doltaire and to me. We both
went over.

"Doltaire, we looked for you at dinner," he said. "Was Captain
Moray"--nodding towards me--"lost among the petticoats? He knows the
trick of cup and saucer. Between the si