“Why, for the same reason, I suppose, so many others of us do not,” replied Monredin. “Colonel Dalquier endorses my orders, and he hates the Bourgeois cordially, as a hot friend of the Intendant ought to do. So you see I have to submit to be plucked of my best pen-feathers by that old fesse-mathieu Penisault at the Friponne!” “How many of yours have gone out to the great spread at Belmont?” asked Des Meloises, quite weary of commercial topics. “Par Dieu!” replied Monredin, “except the colonel and adjutant, who stayed away on principle, I think every officer in the regiment, present company excepted--who being on duty could not go, much to their chagrin. Such a glorious crush of handsome girls has not been seen, they say, since our regiment came to Quebec.” “And not likely to have been seen before your distinguished arrival--eh, Monredin?” ejaculated Des Meloises, holding his glass to be refilled. “That is delicious Burgundy,” added he, “I did not think any one beside the Intendant had wine like that.” “That is some of La Martinière's cargo,” replied Poulariex. “It was kind of him, was it not, to remember us poor Béarnois here on the wrong side of the Atlantic?” “And how earnestly we were praying for that same Burgundy,” ejaculated Monredin, “when it came, as if dropped upon us by Providence! Health and wealth to Captain La Martinière and the good frigate Fleur-de-Lis!” Another round followed. “They talk about those Jansenist convulsionnaires at the tomb of Master Paris, which are setting all France by the ears,” exclaimed Monredin, “but I say there is nothing so contagious as the drinking of a glass of wine like that.” “And the glass gives us convulsions too, Monredin, if we try it too often, and no miracle about it either,” remarked Poulariez. Monredin looked up, red and puffy, as if needing a bridle to check his fast gait. “But they say we are to have peace soon. Is that true, Des Meloises?” asked Poulariez. “You ought to know what is under the cards before they are played.” “No, I don't know; and I hope the report is not true. Who wants peace yet? It would ruin the King's friends in the Colony.” Des Meloises looked as statesmanlike as he could when delivering this dictum. “Ruin the King's friends! Who are they, Des Meloises?” asked Poulariez, with a look of well-assumed surprise. “Why, the associates of the Grand Company, to be sure! What other friends has the King got in New France?” “Really! I thought he had the Regiment of Béarn for a number of them--to say nothing of the honest people of the Colony,” replied Poulariez, impatiently. “The Honnêtes Gens, you mean!” exclaimed Des Meloises. “Well, Poulariez, all I have to say is that if this Colony is to be kept up for the sake of a lot of shopkeepers, wood-choppers, cobblers, and farmers, the sooner the King hands it over to the devil or the English the better!” Poulariex looked indignant enough; but from the others a loud laugh followed this sally.