The Intendant slapped De Pean on the shoulder and shook him by the hand. “You are more clever than I believed you to be, De Pean. You have hit on a mode of riddance which will entitle you to the best reward in the power of the Company to bestow.”
“My best reward will be the fulfilment of your promise, your Excellency,” answered De Pean.
“I will keep my word, De Pean. By God you shall have Angélique, with such a dowry as the Company can alone give! Or, if you do not want the girl, you shall have the dowry without the wife!”
“I shall claim both, your Excellency! But—”
“But what? Confess all your doubts, De Pean.”
“Le Gardeur may claim her as his own reward!” De Pean guessed correctly enough the true bent of Angélique's fancy.
“No fear! Le Gardeur de Repentigny, drunk or sober, is a gentleman. He would reject the Princess d'Elide were she offered on such conditions as you take her on. He is a romantic fool; he believes in woman's virtue and all that stuff!”
“Besides, if he kill the Bourgeois, he will have to fight Pierre Philibert before his sword is dry!” interjected Cadet. “I would not give a Dutch stiver for Le Gardeur's bones five hours after he has pinked the Bourgeois!”
An open duel in form was not to be thought of, because in that they would have to fight the son and not the father, and the great object would be frustrated. But the Bourgeois might be killed in a sudden fray, when blood was up and swords drawn, when no one, as De Pean remarked, would be able to find an i undotted or a t uncrossed in a fair record of the transaction, which would impose upon the most critical judge as an honorable and justifiable act of self-defence.
This was Cadet's real intent, and perhaps Bigot's, but the Intendant's thoughts lay at unfathomable depths, and were not to be discovered by any traces upon the surface. No divining-rod could tell where the secret spring lay hid which ran under Bigot's motives.