Un temps viendra qui n'est pas venu
Que je mordrai qui m'aura mordu."
1736.
Or in English:
"I am a dog that gnaws his bone,
I couch and gnaw it all alone--
A time will come, which is not yet,
When I'll bite him by whom I'm bit."
The magazines of the Bourgeois Philibert presented not only an
epitome but a substantial portion of the commerce of New France.
Bales of furs, which had been brought down in fleets of canoes from
the wild, almost unknown regions of the Northwest, lay piled up to
the beams--skins of the smooth beaver, the delicate otter, black and
silver fox, so rich to the eye and silky to the touch that the
proudest beauties longed for their possession; sealskins to trim the
gowns of portly burgomasters, and ermine to adorn the robes of
nobles and kings. The spoils of the wolf, bear, and buffalo, worked
to the softness of cloth by the hands of Indian women, were stored
for winter wear and to fill the sledges with warmth and comfort when
the northwest wind freezes the snow to fine dust and the aurora
borealis moves in stately possession, like an army of spear-men,
across the northern sky.
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