“La Corne! La Corne!” The Governor raised his finger with a warning look. “We will not discuss the point further until we are favored with the presence and opinion of the Intendant; he will surely be here shortly!” At this moment a distant noise of shouting was heard in some part of the city. An officer of the day entered the hall in great haste, and whispered something in the Governor's ear. “A riot in the streets!” exclaimed the Governor. “The mob attacking the Intendant! You do not say so! Captain Duval, turn out the whole guard at once, and let Colonel St. Remy take the command and clear the way for the Intendant, and also clear the streets of all disturbers.” A number of officers sprang to their feet. “Keep seated, gentlemen! We must not break up the Council,” said the Governor. “We are sure to have the Intendant here in a few minutes and to learn the cause of this uproar. It is some trifling affair of noisy habitans, I have no doubt.” Another loud shout, or rather yell, made itself distinctly heard in the council-chamber. “It is the people cheering the Intendant on his way through the city!” remarked La Corne St. Luc, ironically. “Zounds! what a vacarme they make! See what it is to be popular with the citizens of Quebec!” There was a smile all round the table at La Corne's sarcasm. It offended a few friends of the Intendant, however. “The Chevalier La Corne speaks boldly in the absence of the Intendant,” said Colonel Leboeuf. “A gentleman would give a louis d'or any day to buy a whip to lash the rabble sooner than a sou to win their applause! I would not give a red herring for the good opinion of all Quebec!” “They say in France, Colonel,” replied La Corne de St. Luc, scornfully, “that 'King's chaff is better than other people's corn, and that fish in the market is cheaper than fish in the sea!' I believe it, and can prove it to any gentleman who maintains the contrary!” There was a laugh at La Corne's allusion to the Marquise de Pompadour, whose original name of Jeanne Poisson, gave rise to infinite jests and sarcasms among the people of low and high degree. Colonel Leboeuf, choleric as he was, refrained from pressing the quarrel with La Corne St. Luc. He sat sulkily smothering his wrath--longing to leave the hall and go to the relief of the Intendant, but kept against his will by the command of the Governor. The drums of the main guard beat the assembly. The clash of arms and the tramp of many feet resounded from the court-yard of the Château. The members of the Council looked out of the windows as the troops formed in column, and headed by Colonel St. Remy, defiled out of the Castle gate, the thunder of their drums drowning every other sound and making the windows shake as they marched through the narrow streets to the scene of disturbance. CHAPTER XIII. THE CHIEN D'OR.