He stopped to read the inscription of the Golden
Dog. His face was the face of a fiend, as he rode hastily away. He
knew well how to interpret it."
"Ha! you did not tell me that before, Deborah!" The Bourgeois rose,
excitedly. "Bigot read it all, did he? I hope every letter of it
was branded on his soul as with red-hot iron!"
"Dear master, that is an unchristian saying, and nothing good can
come of it. 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord!' Our worst enemies
are best left in His hands."
The dame was proceeding in a still more moralizing strain, when a
noise arose in the street from a crowd of persons, habitans for the
most part, congregated round the house. The noise increased to such
a degree that they stopped their conversation, and both the dame and
the Bourgeois looked out of the window at the increasing multitude
that had gathered in the street.
The crowd had come to the Rue Buade to see the famous tablet of the
Golden Dog, which was talked of in every seigniory in New France;
still more, perhaps, to see the Bourgeois Philibert himself--the
great merchant who contended for the rights of the habitans, and who
would not yield an inch to the Friponne.
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