“'A St. Malo, beau port de mer,
Trois navires sont arrivés,
Chargés d'avoine, chargés de bled;
Trois dames s'en vont les merchander!'”
“Tut!” exclaimed Varin, “who cares for things that have no more point in them than a dumpling! give us a madrigal, or one of the devil's ditties from the Quartier Latin!”
“I do not know a 'devil's ditty,' and would not sing one if I did,” replied Jean La Marche, jealous of the ballads of his own New France. “Indians cannot swear because they know no oaths, and habitans cannot sing devil's ditties because they never learned them; but 'St. Malo, beau port de mer,'—I will sing that with any man in the Colony!”
The popular songs of the French Canadians are simple, almost infantine, in their language, and as chaste in expression as the hymns of other countries. Impure songs originate in classes who know better, and revel from choice in musical slang and indecency.
“Sing what you like! and never mind Varin, my good fellow,” said Cadet, stretching himself in his chair; “I like the old Canadian ballads better than all the devil's ditties ever made in Paris! You must sing your devil's ditties yourself, Varin; our habitans won't,—that is sure!”
After an hour's roystering at the Fleur-de-Lis the party of gentlemen returned to the Taverne de Menut a good deal more unsteady and more obstreperous than when they came. They left Master Pothier seated in his chair, drunk as Bacchus, and every one of the rest of his companions blind as Bartemy.
The gentlemen, on their return to the Taverne de Menut, found De Pean in a rage. Pierre Philibert had followed Amélie to the city, and learning the cause of her anxiety and unconcealed tears, started off with the determination to find Le Gardeur.
The officer of the guard at the gate of the Basse Ville was able to direct him to the right quarter. He hastened to the Taverne de Menut, and in haughty defiance of De Pean, with whom he had high words, he got the unfortunate Le Gardeur away, placed him in a carriage, and took him home, receiving from Amélie such sweet and sincere thanks as he thought a life's service could scarcely have deserved.
“Par Dieu! that Philibert is a game-cock, De Pean,” exclaimed Cadet, to the savage annoyance of the Secretary. “He has pluck and impudence for ten gardes du corps. It was neater done than at Beaumanoir!” Cadet sat down to enjoy a broad laugh at the expense of his friend over the second carrying off of Le Gardeur.
“Curse him! I could have run him through, and am sorry I did not,” exclaimed De Pean.