I call on every gentleman now, to drink to the
still brighter eyes of the belle of New France!"
"Who is she? Name! name!" shouted a dozen voices; "who is the belle
of New France?"
"Who is she? Why, who can she be but the fair Angelique, whom we
have just honored?" replied De Pean, hotly, jealous of any
precedence in that quarter.
"Tut!" cried Deschenaux, "you compare glowworms with evening stars,
when you pretend to match Angelique des Meloises with the lady I
propose to honor! I call for full brimmers--cardinal's hats--in
honor of the belle of New France--the fair Amelie de Repentigny!"
Le Gardeur de Repentigny was sitting leaning on his elbow, his
face beaming with jollity, as he waited, with a full cup, for
Deschenaux's toast. But no sooner did he hear the name of his
sister from those lips than he sprang up as though a serpent had
bit him. He hurled his goblet at the head of Deschenaux with a
fierce imprecation, and drew his sword as he rushed towards him.
"A thousand lightnings strike you! How dare you pollute that holy
name, Deschenaux? Retract that toast instantly, or you shall drink
it in blood--retract, I say!"
The guests rose to their feet in terrible uproar.
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