Louis.
The crowd, relieved of their presence, grew calm; and some of the
more timid of them got apprehensive of the consequences of this
outrage upon the Royal Intendant. They dispersed quietly, singly
or in groups, each one hoping that he might not be called upon to
account for the day's proceedings.
The Intendant and his cortege of friends rode furiously into the
courtyard of the Chateau of St. Louis, dishevelled, bespattered, and
some of them hatless. They dismounted, and foaming with rage,
rushed through the lobbies, and with heavy trampling of feet,
clattering of scabbards, and a bedlam of angry tongues, burst into
the Council Chamber.
The Intendant's eyes shot fire. His Gascon blood was at fever heat,
flushing his swarthy cheek like the purple hue of a hurricane. He
rushed at once to the council-table, and seeing the Governor,
saluted him, but spoke in tones forcibly kept under by a violent
effort.
"Your Excellency and gentlemen of the Council will excuse our
delay," shouted Bigot, "when I inform you that I, the Royal
Intendant of New France, have been insulted, pelted, and my very
life threatened by a seditious mob congregated in the streets of
Quebec.
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