His voice overbore that of the stoutest of
the revellers. He embraced De Pean as his friend, who returned his
compliments by declaring Le Gardeur de Repentigny to be the king of
good fellows, who had the "strongest head to carry wine and the
stoutest heart to defy dull care of any man in Quebec."
De Pean watched with malign satisfaction the progress of Le
Gardeur's intoxication. If he seemed to flag, he challenged him
afresh to drink to better fortune; and when he lost the stakes, to
drink again to spite ill luck.
But let a veil be dropped over the wild doings of the Taverne de
Menut. Le Gardeur lay insensible at last upon the floor, where he
would have remained had not some of the servants of the inn who knew
him lifted him up compassionately and placed him upon a couch, where
he lay, breathing heavily like one dying. His eyes were fixed; his
mouth, where the kisses of his sister still lingered, was partly
opened, and his hands were clenched, rigid as a statue's.
"He is ours now!" said De Pean to Cadet. "He will not again put his
head under the wing of the Philiberts!"
The two men looked at him, and laughed brutally.
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