The Bourgeois was startled at this new danger, not to himself,--he thought not of himself,--but to the bleeding man lying prostrate upon the ground. He sprang forward to prevent Le Gardeur's horse going over him.
He did not, in the haste and confusion of the moment, recognize Le Gardeur, who, inflamed with wine and frantic with passion, was almost past recognition by any who knew him in his normal state.
Nor did Le Gardeur, in his frenzy, recognize the presence of the Bourgeois, whose voice calling him by name, with an appeal to his better nature, would undoubtedly have checked his headlong career.
The moment was critical. It was one of those points of time where the threads of many lives and many destinies cross and intersect each other, and thence part different ways, leading to life or death, happiness or despair, forever!
Le Gardeur spurred his horse madly over the wounded man who lay upon the ground; but he did not hear him, he did not see him. Let it be said for Le Gardeur, if aught can be said in his defence, he did not see him. His horse was just about to trample upon the prostrate cripple lying in the dust, when his bridle was suddenly and firmly seized by the hand of the Bourgeois, and his horse wheeled round with such violence that, rearing back upon his haunches, he almost threw his rider headlong.
Le Gardeur, not knowing the reason of this sudden interference, and flaming with wrath, leaped to the ground just at the moment when Angelique and De Pean rode up. Le Gardeur neither knew nor cared at that moment who his antagonist was; he saw but a bold, presumptuous man who had seized his bridle, and whom it was his desire to punish on the spot.
De Pean recognized the stately figure and fearless look of the Bourgeois confronting Le Gardeur. The triumph of the Friponne was at hand. De Pean rubbed his hands with ecstasy as he called out to Le Gardeur, his voice ringing above the din of the crowd, "Achevez- le! Finish him, Le Gardeur!"
Angelique sat upon her horse fixed as a statue and as pale as marble, not at the danger of the Bourgeois, whom she at once recognized, but out of fear for her lover, exposed to the menaces of the crowd, who were all on the side of the Bourgeois.
Le Gardeur leaped down from his horse and advanced with a terrible imprecation upon the Bourgeois, and struck him with his whip. The brave old merchant had the soul of a marshal of France. His blood boiled at the insult; he raised his staff to ward off a second blow and struck Le Gardeur sharply upon the wrist, making his whip fly out of his hand. Le Gardeur instantly advanced again upon him, but was pressed back by the habitans, who rushed to the defence of the Bourgeois. Then came the tempter to his ear,--a word or two, and the fate of many innocent lives was decided in a moment!
Le Gardeur suddenly felt a hand laid upon his shoulder, and heard a voice, a woman's voice, speaking to him in passionate tones.
Angelique had forced her horse into the thick of the crowd. She was no longer calm, nor pale with apprehension, but her face was flushed redder than fire, and her eyes, those magnetic orbs which drove men mad, blazed upon Le Gardeur with all their terrible influence. She had seen him struck by the Bourgeois, and her anger was equal to his own.
De Pean saw the opportunity.
"Angelique," exclaimed he, "the Bourgeois strikes Le Gardeur! What an outrage! Can you bear it?"
"Never!" replied she; "neither shall Le Gardeur!"
With a plunge of her horse she forced her way close to Le Gardeur, and, leaning over him, laid her hand upon his shoulder and exclaimed in a voice choking with passion,--"Comment, Le Gardeur! vous souffrez qu'un Malva comme ca vous abime de coups, et vous portez l'epee!" "What, Le Gardeur! you allow a ruffian like that to load you with blows, and you wear a sword!"
It was enough! That look, that word, would have made Le Gardeur slaughter his father at that moment.
Astonished at the sight of Angelique, and maddened by her words as much as by the blow he had received, Le Gardeur swore he would have revenge upon the spot. With a wild cry and the strength and agility of a panther he twisted himself out of the grasp of the habitans, and drawing his sword, before any man could stop him, thrust it to the hilt through the body of the Bourgeois, who, not expecting this sudden assault, had not put himself in an attitude of defense to meet it.
The Bourgeois fell dying by the side of the bleeding man who had just received his alms, and in whose protection he had thus risked and lost his own life.
"Bravo, Le Gardeur!" exclaimed De Pean; "that was the best stroke ever given in New France. The Golden Dog is done for, and the Bourgeois has paid his debt to the Grand Company."
Le Gardeur looked up wildly. "Who is he, De Pean?" exclaimed he.
"What man have I killed?"
"The Bourgeois Philibert, who else?" shouted De Pean with a tone of exultation.
Le Gardeur uttered a wailing cry, "The Bourgeois Philibert! have I slain the Bourgeois Philibert? De Pean lies, Angelique," said he, suddenly turning to her. "I would not kill a sparrow belonging to the Bourgeois Philibert! Oh, tell me De Pean lies."
"De Pean does not lie, Le Gardeur," answered she, frightened at his look. "The Bourgeois struck you first. I saw him strike you first with his staff. You are a gentleman and would kill the King if he struck you like a dog with his staff. Look where they are lifting him up. You see it is the Bourgeois and no other."
Le Gardeur gave one wild look and recognized the well-known form and features of the Bourgeois. He threw his sword on the ground, exclaiming, "Oh! oh! unhappy man that I am! It is parricide! parricide! to have slain the father of my brother Pierre! Oh, Angelique des Meloises! you made me draw my sword, and I knew not who it was or what I did!"
"I told you, Le Gardeur, and you are angry with me. But see! hark! what a tumult is gathering; we must get out of this throng or we shall all be killed as well as the Bourgeois. Fly, Le Gardeur, fly!
Go to the Palace!"
