We scarcely spoke as we went, though Doltaire hummed now and then the air La Pompadour et La Friponne. As we came nearer I said, “Are you sure it is La Friponne, monsieur?”
“It is not,” he said, pointing. “See!”
The sky was full of shaking sparks, and a smell of burning grain came down the wind.
“One of the granaries, then,” I added, “not La Friponne itself?”
To this he nodded assent, and we pushed on.
II. THE MASTER OF THE KING’S MAGAZINE
“What fools,” said Doltaire presently, “to burn the bread and oven too! If only they were less honest in a world of rogues, poor moles!”
Coming nearer, we saw that La Friponne itself was safe, but one warehouse was doomed and another threatened. The streets were full of people, and thousands of excited peasants, laborers, and sailors were shouting, “Down with the palace! Down with Bigot!”
We came upon the scene at the most critical moment. None of the Governors soldiers were in sight, but up the Heights we could hear the steady tramp of General Montcalm’s infantry as they came on. Where were Bigot’s men? There was a handful—one company—drawn up before La Friponne, idly leaning on their muskets, seeing the great granary burn, and watching La Friponne threatened by the mad crowd and the fire. There was not a soldier before the Intendant’s palace, not a light in any window.