“I grieve much, and sympathize with your Excellency's indignation,” replied the Governor warmly; “I rejoice you have escaped unhurt. I despatched the troops to your assistance, but have not yet learned the cause of the riot.”
“The cause of the riot was the popular hatred of myself for enforcing the royal ordinances, and the seditious example set the rabble by the notorious merchant, Philibert, who is at the bottom of all mischief in New France.”
The Governor looked fixedly at the Intendant, as he replied quietly,—“The Sieur Philibert, although a merchant, is a gentleman of birth and loyal principles, and would be the last man alive, I think, to excite a riot. Did you see the Bourgeois, Chevalier?”
“The crowd filled the street near his magazines, cheering for the Bourgeois and the Golden Dog. We rode up and endeavored to force our way through. But I did not see the Bourgeois himself until the disturbance had attained its full proportions.”
“And then, your Excellency? Surely the Bourgeois was not encouraging the mob, or participating in the riot?”
“No! I do not charge him with participating in the riot, although the mob were all his friends and partisans. Moreover,” said Bigot, frankly, for he felt he owed his safety to the interference of the Bourgeois, “it would be unfair not to acknowledge that he did what he could to protect us from the rabble. I charge Philibert with sowing the sedition that caused the riot, not with rioting himself.”
“But I accuse him of both, and of all the mob has done!” thundered Varin, enraged to hear the Intendant speak with moderation and justice. “The house of the Golden Dog is a den of traitors; it ought to be pulled down, and its stones built into a monument of infamy over its owner, hung like a dog in the market-place.”
“Silence, Varin!” exclaimed the Governor sternly. “I will not hear the Sieur Philibert spoken of in these injurious terms. The Intendant does not charge him with this disturbance; neither shall you.”
“Par Dieu! you shall not, Varin!” burst in La Corne St. Luc, roused to unusual wrath by the opprobrium heaped upon his friend the Bourgeois; “and you shall answer to me for that you have said!”
“La Corne! La Corne!” The Governor saw a challenge impending, and interposed with vehemence. “This is a Council of War, and not a place for recriminations. Sit down, dear old friend, and aid me to get on with the business of the King and his Colony, which we are here met to consider.”