Bigot was like a stag brought to bay. An ordinary man
would have succumbed in despair, but the very desperation of his
position stirred up the Intendant to a greater effort to free
himself.
He walked gloomily up and down the room, absorbed in deep thought.
Cadet, who guessed what was brooding in his mind, made a sign to De
Pean to wait and see what would be the result of his cogitations.
Bigot, gesticulating with his right hand and his left, went on
balancing, as in a pair of scales, the chances of success or failure
in the blow he meditated against the Golden Dog. A blow which would
scatter to the winds the inquisition set on foot to discover the
hiding-place of Caroline.
He stopped suddenly in his walk, striking both hands together, as if
in sign of some resolution arrived at in his thoughts.
"De Pean!" said he, "has Le Gardeur de Repentigny shown any desire
yet to break out of the Palace?"
"None, your Excellency. He is fixed as a bridge to fortune. You
can no more break him down than the Pont Neuf at Paris. He lost,
last night, a thousand at cards and five hundred at dice; then drank
himself dead drunk until three o'clock this afternoon.
Pages:
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957