“And you will persuade Mademoiselle Mercèdes to join us?” insisted Madame Marin.
“If she knows she is likely to see her father she will not refuse,” answered Madame Péan. “She will go in my sleigh.”
“I wish you joy!” said one of her lady friends. “What you see in that little dull thing, to have her always about with you, is more than I can imagine. Why, I saw you out sleighing with her and that Indian hunter, Charles Langlade, last week, near the village of Beauport. Are you trying to make a match of it?”
“I wish I could,” answered Madame Péan; “but you know as well as I do he has his Indian squaw. Now, good-night, or rather good-morning; I am off to get a few hours’ sleep.”
There was a general leave-taking, and it was agreed they should all meet at midday on the morrow; and so the ladies retired, but the gentlemen remained in consultation as to ways and means.
“I intend it to be a grand affair,” said Bigot ostentatiously. “We will spare no expense, eh, Marin?”
“Certainly not! Why should we? It is necessary for the good of the country. You require to see Vaudreuil; De Martet and Varin have to look after the army and navy supplies. We are going on the king’s service, therefore the king must pay. Long live the King!”
“Long live our Gracious Master the King!” they all shouted in high spirits, and forthwith began arranging for the projected excursion. The light of the dim November morning was slowly creeping into the palace when they separated to snatch a brief repose.
CHAPTER XXII
HOME NEWS
“Go to Montreal and see my dear father? You do not really mean it!” exclaimed Mercèdes, clapping her hands in sheer childish delight.