De Pean had no difficulty in enticing Le Gardeur down to the village inn, where he had arranged that he should meet, by mere accident, as it were, his old city friends.
The bold, generous nature of Le Gardeur, who neither suspected nor feared any evil, greeted them with warmth. They were jovial fellows, he knew, who would be affronted if he refused to drink a cup of wine with them. They talked of the gossip of the city, its coteries and pleasant scandals, and of the beauty and splendor of the queen of society—Angélique des Meloises.
Le Gardeur, with a painful sense of his last interview with Angélique, and never for a moment forgetting her reiterated words, “I love you, Le Gardeur, but I will not marry you,” kept silent whenever she was named, but talked with an air of cheerfulness on every other topic.
His one glass of wine was soon followed by another. He was pressed with such cordiality that he could not refuse. The fire was rekindled, at first with a faint glow upon his cheek and a sparkle in his eye; but the table soon overflowed with wine, mirth, and laughter. He drank without reflection, and soon spoke with warmth and looseness from all restraint.
De Pean, resolved to excite Le Gardeur to the utmost, would not cease alluding to Angélique. He recurred again and again to the splendor of her charms and the fascination of her ways. He watched the effect of his speech upon the countenance of Le Gardeur, keenly observant of every expression of interest excited by the mention of her.
“We will drink to her bright eyes,” exclaimed De Pean, filling his glass until it ran over, “first in beauty and worthy to be first in place in New France—yea, or Old France either! and he is a heathen who will not drink this toast!”
“Le Gardeur will not drink it! Neither would I, in his place,” replied Emeric de Lantagnac, too drunk now to mind what he said. “I would drink to the bright eyes of no woman who had played me the trick Angélique has played upon Le Gardeur!”
“What trick has she played upon me?” repeated Le Gardeur, with a touch of anger.
“Why, she has jilted you, and now flies at higher game, and nothing but a prince of the blood will satisfy her!”
“Does she say that, or do you invent it?” Le Gardeur was almost choking with angry feelings. Emeric cared little what he said, drunk or sober. He replied gravely,—