No Finance Minister or
Royal Intendant studied more earnestly the problem how to tax the
kingdom than Max and Blind Bartemy how to toll the passers-by, and
with less success, perhaps.
To-day was a red-letter day for the sturdy beggars, for the news
flew fast that an ovation of some popular kind was to be given to
the Bourgeois Philibert. The habitans came trooping up the rough
mountain-road that leads from the Basse Ville to the Upper Town; and
up the long stairs lined with the stalls of Basque pedlars--
cheating, loquacious varlets--which formed a by-way from the lower
regions of the Rue de Champlain--a break-neck thoroughfare little
liked by the old and asthmatical, but nothing to the sturdy
"climbers," as the habitans called the lads of Quebec, or the light-
footed lasses who displayed their trim ankles as they flew up the
breezy steps to church or market.
Max Grimau and Blind Bartemy had ceased counting their coins. The
passers-by came up in still increasing numbers, until the street,
from the barrier of the Basse Ville to the Cathedral, was filled
with a noisy, good-humored crowd, without an object except to stare
at the Golden Dog and a desire to catch a glimpse of the Bourgeois
Philibert.
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