“The Honnêtes Gens, you mean!” exclaimed Des Meloises. “Well, Poulariez, all I have to say is that if this Colony is to be kept up for the sake of a lot of shopkeepers, wood-choppers, cobblers, and farmers, the sooner the King hands it over to the devil or the English the better!”
Poulariex looked indignant enough; but from the others a loud laugh followed this sally.
The Chevalier des Meloises pulled out his watch. “I must be gone to the Palace,” said he. “I dare say Cadet, Varin, and Penisault will have balanced the ledgers by this time, and the Intendant, who is the devil for business on such occasions, will have settled the dividends for the quarter—the only part of the business I care about.”
“But don't you help them with the work a little?” asked Poulariez.
“Not I; I leave business to them that have a vocation for it. Besides, I think Cadet, Vargin, and Penisault like to keep the inner ring of the company to themselves.” He turned to Emeric: “I hope there will be a good dividend to-night, Emeric,” said he. “I owe you some revenge at piquet, do I not?”
“You capoted me last night at the Taverne de Menut, and I had three aces and three kings.”
“But I had a quatorze, and took the fishes,” replied Des Meloises.
“Well, Chevalier, I shall win them back to-night. I hope the dividend will be good: in that way I too may share in the 'business' of the Grand Company.”
“Good-by, Chevalier; remember me to St. Blague!” (This was a familiar sobriquet of Bigot.) “Tis the best name going. If I had an heir for the old château on the Adour, I would christen him Bigot for luck.”
The Chevalier des Meloises left the officers and proceeded down the steep road that led to the Palace. The gardens were quiet to-day—a few loungers might be seen in the magnificent alleys, pleached walks, and terraces; beyond these gardens, however, stretched the King's wharves and the magazines of the Friponne. These fairly swarmed with men loading and unloading ships and bateaux, and piling and unpiling goods.