The Bourgeois looked down at the ever-increasing throng,--country
people for the most part, with their wives, with not a few citizens,
whom he could easily distinguish by their dress and manner. The
Bourgeois stood rather withdrawn from the front, so as not to be
recognized, for he hated intensely anything like a demonstration,
still less an ovation. He could hear many loud voices, however, in
the crowd, and caught up the chief topics they discussed with each
other.
His eyes rested several times on a wiry, jerking little fellow, whom
he recognized as Jean La Marche, the fiddler, a censitaire of the
manor of Tilly. He was a well-known character, and had drawn a
large circle of the crowd around himself.
"I want to see the Bourgeois Philibert!" exclaimed Jean La Marche.
"He is the bravest merchant in New France--the people's friend.
Bless the Golden Dog, and curse the Friponne!"
"Hurrah for the Golden Dog, and curse the Friponne!" exclaimed a
score of voices; "won't you sing, Jean?"
"Not now; I have a new ballad ready on the Golden Dog, which I shall
sing to-night--that is, if you will care to listen to me.
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