“How is that?” the Intendant asked sharply. He had not the deepest sense of De Pean's wisdom. “We must call in woman to fight woman in the interests of the Company,” replied the Secretary. “A good scheme if one could be got to fight and win! But do you know any woman who can lay her fingers on Le Gardeur de Repentigny and pull him out from among the Honnêtes Gens?” “I do, your Excellency. I know the very one can do it,” replied De Pean confidently. “You do! Why do you hesitate then? Have you any arrière pensée that keeps you from telling her name at once?” asked the Intendant impatiently. “It is Mademoiselle des Meloises. She can do it, and no other woman in New France need try!” replied De Pean. “Why, she is a clipper, certainly! Bright eyes like hers rule the world of fools--and of wise men, too,” added Bigot in a parenthesis. “However, all the world is caught by that bird-lime. I confess I never made a fool of myself but a woman was at the bottom of it. But for one who has tripped me up, I have taken sweet revenge on a thousand. If Le Gardeur be entangled in Nerea's hair, he is safe in our toils. Do you think Angélique is at home, De Pean?” The Intendant looked up at the clock. It was the usual hour for morning calls in Quebec. “Doubtless she is at home at this hour, your Excellency,” replied De Pean. “But she likes her bed, as other pretty women do, and is practising for the petite levée, like a duchess. I don't suppose she is up!” “I don't know that,” replied Bigot. “A greater runagate in petticoats there is not in the whole city! I never pass through the streets but I see her.” “Ay, that is because she intends to meet your Excellency!” Bigot looked sharply at De Pean. A new thought flashed in his eyes. “What! think you she makes a point of it, De Pean?” “I think she would not go out of the way of your Excellency.” De Pean shuffled among his papers, but his slight agitation was noticed by the Intendant. “Hum! is that your thought, De Pean? Looks she in this quarter?” Bigot meditated with his hand on his chin for a moment or two. “You think she is doubtless at home this morning?” added he. “It was late when De Repentigny left her last night, and she would have long and pleasant dreams after that visit, I warrant,” replied the Secretary. “How do you know? By St. Picot! You watch her closely, De Pean!” “I do, your Excellency: I have reason,” was the reply. De Pean did not say what his reason for watching Angélique was; neither did Bigot ask. The Intendant cared not to pry into the personal matters of his friends. He had himself too much to conceal not to respect the secrets of his associates. “Well, De Pean! I will wait on Mademoiselle des Meloises this morning. I will act on your suggestion, and trust I shall not find her unreasonable.”