"Do you think the Recollets are
happy, De Pean?" asked he, turning abruptly to his companion.
"Happy as oysters at high water, who are never crossed in love,
except of their dinner! But that is neither your luck nor mine, Le
Gardeur!" De Pean was itching to draw from his companion something
with reference to what had passed with Angelique.
"Well, I would rather be an oyster than a man, and rather be dead
than either!" was the reply of Le Gardeur. "How soon, think you,
will brandy kill a man, De Pean?" asked he abruptly, after a pause
of silence.
"It will never kill you, Le Gardeur, if you take it neat at Master
Menut's. It will restore you to life, vigor, and independence of
man and woman. I take mine there when I am hipped as you are, Le
Gardeur. It is a specific for every kind of ill-fortune,--I warrant
it will cure and never kill you."
They crossed the Place d'Armes. Nothing in sight was moving except
the sentries who paced slowly like shadows up and down the great
gateway of the Castle of St. Louis.
"It is still and solemn as a church-yard here," remarked De Pean;
"all the life of the place is down at Menut's! I like the small
hours," added he as the chime of the Recollets ceased.
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