“For six months we have lived on trust. Those leeches of Jews, who call themselves Christians, down in the Sault au Matelot, won't cash the best orders in the regiment for less than forty per cent. discount!”
“That is true!” broke in another officer, whose rather rubicund face told of credit somewhere, and the product of credit,—good wine and good dinners generally. “That is true, Monredin! The old curmudgeon of a broker at the corner of the Cul de Sac had the impudence to ask me fifty per cent. discount upon my drafts on Bourdeaux! I agree with Des Meloises there: business may be a good thing for those who handle it, but devil touch their dirty fingers for me!”
“Don't condemn all of them, Emeric,” said Captain Poulariez, a quiet, resolute-looking officer. “There is one merchant in the city who carries the principles of a gentleman into the usages of commerce. The Bourgeois Philibert gives cent. per cent. for good orders of the King's officers, just to show his sympathy with the army and his love for France.”
“Well, I wish he were paymaster of the forces, that is all, and then I could go to him if I wanted to,” replied Monredin.
“Why do you not go to him?” asked Poulariez.
“Why, for the same reason, I suppose, so many others of us do not,” replied Monredin. “Colonel Dalquier endorses my orders, and he hates the Bourgeois cordially, as a hot friend of the Intendant ought to do. So you see I have to submit to be plucked of my best pen-feathers by that old fesse-mathieu Penisault at the Friponne!”
“How many of yours have gone out to the great spread at Belmont?” asked Des Meloises, quite weary of commercial topics.
“Par Dieu!” replied Monredin, “except the colonel and adjutant, who stayed away on principle, I think every officer in the regiment, present company excepted—who being on duty could not go, much to their chagrin. Such a glorious crush of handsome girls has not been seen, they say, since our regiment came to Quebec.”
“And not likely to have been seen before your distinguished arrival—eh, Monredin?” ejaculated Des Meloises, holding his glass to be refilled. “That is delicious Burgundy,” added he, “I did not think any one beside the Intendant had wine like that.”
“That is some of La Martinière's cargo,” replied Poulariex. “It was kind of him, was it not, to remember us poor Béarnois here on the wrong side of the Atlantic?”