y. It is
whispered among the knowing girls who went to school with her at the
Convent,--and the Convent girls do know everything, and something
more,--that she always cherished a secret affection for this Philibert,
and that she will marry him some day."

"Marry Satan! Such a girl as that to marry a cursed Philibert!" Bigot
was really irritated at the information. "I think," said he, "women are
ever ready to sail in the ships of Tarshish, so long as the cargo is
gold, silver, ivory, apes, and peacocks! It speaks ill for the boasted
gallantry of the Grand Company if not one of them can win this girl. If
we could gain her over we should have no difficulty with the brother,
and the point is to secure him."

"There is but one way I can see, your Excellency." De Pean did not
appear to make his suggestion very cheerfully, but he was anxious to
please the Intendant.

"How is that?" the Intendant asked sharply. He had not the deepest sense
of De Pean's wisdom.

"We must call in woman to fight woman in the interests of the Company,"
replied the Secretary.

"A good scheme if one could be got to fight and win! But do you know any
woman who can lay her fingers on Le Gardeur de Repentigny and pull him
out from among the Honnetes Gens?"

"I do, your Excellency. I know the very one can do it," replied De Pean
confidently.

"You do! Why do you hesitate then? Have you any arriere pensee
that keeps you from telling her name at once?" asked the Intendant
impatiently.

"It is Mademoiselle des Meloises. She can do it, and no other woman in
New France need try!" replied De Pean.

"Why, she is a clipper, certainly! Bright eyes like hers rule the world
of fools--and of wise men, too," added Bigot in a parenthesis. "However,
all the world is caught by that bird-lime. I confess I never made a
fool of myself but a woman was at the bottom of it. But for one who has
tripped me up, I have taken sweet revenge on a thousand. If Le Gardeur
be entangled in Nerea's hair, he is safe in our toils. Do you think
Angelique is at home, De Pean?"

The Intendant looked up at the clock. It was the usual hour for morning
calls in Quebec.

"Doubtless she is at home at this hour, your Excellency," replied
De Pean. "But she likes her bed, as other pretty women do, and is
practising for the petite levee, like a duchess. I don't suppose she is
up!"

"I don't know that," replied Bigot. "A greater runagate in petticoats
there is not in the whole city! I