Robert saw that the looks were growing more menacing, although the good
Monsieur Berryer glided among his guests, and counseled caution.
"Take no notice," said Willet in a low tone. "The French are polite, and although they may not like us they will not molest us."
Robert followed his advice. Apparently he had no thought except for his food, which was delicate, but his ears did not miss any sound that could reach them. He understood French well, and he caught several whispers that made the red come to his cheeks. Doubtless they thought he could not speak their language or they would have been more careful.
Half way through the dinner and the door was thrown open, admitting a gorgeous figure and a great gust of words. It was a young man in a brilliant uniform, his hair long, perfumed, powdered and curled, and his face flushed. Robert recognized him at once as that same Count Jean de Mézy who had passed them in the flying carriage. Behind came two officers of about the same age, but of lower rank, seeking his favor and giving him adulation.
His roving eye traveled around the room, and, resting upon the three guests, became inflamed.
"Ah, Nemours, and you, Le Moyne," he said, "look there and behold the two Bostonnais and the Iroquois of whom we have heard, sitting here in our own Inn of the Eagle!"
"But there is no war, not as yet," said Nemours, although he spoke in an obsequious tone.
"But it will come," said de Mézy loudly, "and then, gentlemen, this lordly Quebec of ours, which has known many English captives, will hold multitudes of them."
There were cries of "Silence!" "Not so loud!"
"Don't insult guests!" but de Mézy merely laughed and said: "They don't understand! The slow-witted English never know any tongue but their own."