Quebec was the home of intrigue, and the Intendant's palace
was the heart of it, but if Robert's pulse beat fast it was with
anticipation and not with fear.
"It was fortune more than skill," he said. "The Count de Mezy credits me
with too much knowledge of the sword."
"No," said Bigot, laughing, "Jean wouldn't do that. He'd credit you with
all you have, and no more. Jean, like the rest of us, doesn't relish a
defeat, do you, Jean?"
De Mezy reddened, but he forced a laugh.
"I suppose that nobody does!" he replied, "but when I suffer one I try
to make the best of it."
"That's an honest confession, Jean," said Bigot, "and you'll feel better
for making it."
He seemed now to Robert bluff, genial, all good nature, and the youth
stood on one side, while Willet and Tayoga were presented in their turn.
Bigot looked very keenly at the Onondaga, and the answering gaze was
fierce and challenging. Robert saw that Tayoga was not moved by the
splendor, the music and the perfumed air, and that he did not forget for
an instant that this gay Quebec of the French was the Stadacona of the
Mohawks, a great brother nation of the Hodenosaunee.
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