“Kneel down, all,” cried the Intendant, “or De Pean will hamstring us!” All knelt down with a clash--some of them unable to rise again. “We will drink to the Angélique charms of the fair Des Meloises. Come now, all together!--as the jolly Dutchmen of Albany say, 'Upp seys over!'” Such of the company as were able resumed their seats amid great laughter and confusion, when the Sieur Deschenaux, a reckless young gallant, ablaze with wine and excitement, stood up, leaning against the table. His fingers dabbled in his wine-cup as he addressed them, but he did not notice it. “We have drunk with all the honors,” said he, “to the bright eyes of the belle of Quebec. I call on every gentleman now, to drink to the still brighter eyes of the belle of New France!” “Who is she? Name! name!” shouted a dozen voices; “who is the belle of New France?” “Who is she? Why, who can she be but the fair Angélique, whom we have just honored?” replied De Pean, hotly, jealous of any precedence in that quarter. “Tut!” cried Deschenaux, “you compare glowworms with evening stars, when you pretend to match Angélique des Meloises with the lady I propose to honor! I call for full brimmers--cardinal's hats--in honor of the belle of New France--the fair Amélie de Repentigny!” Le Gardeur de Repentigny was sitting leaning on his elbow, his face beaming with jollity, as he waited, with a full cup, for Deschenaux's toast. But no sooner did he hear the name of his sister from those lips than he sprang up as though a serpent had bit him. He hurled his goblet at the head of Deschenaux with a fierce imprecation, and drew his sword as he rushed towards him. “A thousand lightnings strike you! How dare you pollute that holy name, Deschenaux? Retract that toast instantly, or you shall drink it in blood--retract, I say!” The guests rose to their feet in terrible uproar. Le Gardeur struggled violently to break through a number of those who interposed between him and Deschenaux, who, roused to frenzy by the insult from Le Gardeur, had also drawn his sword, and stood ready to receive the assault of his antagonist. The Intendant, whose courage and presence of mind never forsook him, pulled Deschenaux down upon his seat and held fast his sword arm, shouting in his ear,-- “Are you mad, Deschenaux? You knew she was his sister, and how he worships her! Retract the toast--it was inopportune! Besides, recollect we want to win over De Repentigny to the Grand Company!” Deschenaux struggled for a minute, but the influence of the Intendant was all-powerful over him. He gave way. “Damn De Repentigny,” said he, “I only meant to do honor to the pretty witch. Who would have expected him to take it up in that manner?” “Any one who knows him; besides,” continued the Intendant, “if you must toast his sister, wait till we get him body and soul made over to the Grand Company, and then he will care no more for his sister's fame than you do for yours.”