“Not a bad idea,” said her husband, curling his moustache, “and you are quite capable of carrying it into effect.”
“What Madame wills the gods prosper,” said Bigot gallantly. “Has any one seen the new importation?”
“I caught sight of a little sallow-faced girl, with big black eyes, walking with the General and Charles Langlade in the lower town yesterday,” said a young officer.
“Did not Charles Langlade bring the whole party across country to Quebec?” asked Bigot.
“Yes,” answered the Governor; “Montcalm would not wait till the ships could get up the St. Lawrence, so he hurried on in front. He’s in a perfect fever to begin operations.”
“He will learn to take things more quietly presently,” said Bigot. “In the meantime, let Madame take the little girl in hand. According to the natural course of events, she and Charles Langlade ought to have managed to fall in love with each other during their somewhat rough excursion across country. If they have, that will be another string to our bow; if they have not—well, dear Madame, you must manage that they should.”
“And Charles Langlade’s squaw?” said Madame.
“Oh, she would be easily disposed of,” said Bigot carelessly.
And then, as if the subject had grown unpleasant to him, he changed the conversation.
In the meantime the General went slowly and thoughtfully through the narrow, tortuous streets, past the magnificent Jesuit College on one side and the Ursuline Convent on the other. He was feeling depressed; his reception by the authorities had by no means been as hearty as he had been led to expect, and this new proposition concerning Mercèdes also worried him.