He has just
risen; his valet was washing his head and feet in brandy when I came
here."
"You are a friend that sticks closer than a brother, De Pean. Le
Gardeur believes in you as his guardian angel, does he not?" asked
Bigot with a sneer.
"When he is drunk he does," replied De Pean; "when he is sober I
care not to approach him too nearly! He is a wild colt that will
kick his groom when rubbed the wrong way; and every way is wrong
when the wine is out of him."
"Keep him full then!" exclaimed Bigot; "you have groomed him well,
De Pean! but he must now be saddled and ridden to hunt down the
biggest stag in New France!"
De Pean looked hard at the Intendant, only half comprehending his
allusion.
"You once tried your hand with Mademoiselle de Repentigny, did you
not?" continued Bigot.
"I did, your Excellency; but that bunch of grapes was too high for
me. They are very sour now."
"Sly fox that you were! Well, do not call them sour yet, De Pean.
Another jump at the vine and you may reach that bunch of perfection!"
said Bigot, looking hard at him.
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