At his own reiterated command, he was given over to the hands of some soldiers and led off, followed by a great crowd of people, to the main guard of the Castle of St. Louis, where he was left a prisoner, while another portion of the multitude gathered about the scene of the tragedy, surrounded the body of the Bourgeois, which was lifted off the ground and borne aloft on men's shoulders, followed by wild cries and lamentations to the House of the Golden Dog,--the house which he had left but half an hour before, full of life, vigor and humanity, looking before and after as a strong man looks who has done his duty, and who feels still able to take the world upon his shoulders and carry it, if need were.
The sad procession moved slowly on amid the pressing, agitated crowd, which asked and answered a hundred eager questions in a breath. The two poor Recollet brothers, Daniel and Ambrose, walked side by side before the bleeding corpse of their friend, and stifled their emotions by singing, in a broken voice that few heard but themselves, the words of the solitary hymn of St. Francis d'Assisi, the founder of their order:
"Praised be the Lord, by our sweet sister Death, From whom no man escapes, howe'er he try!
Woe to all those who yield their parting breath In mortal sin! But blessed those who die Doing thy will in that decisive hour!
The second death o'er such shall have no power.
Praise, blessing, and thanksgiving to my Lord!
For all He gives and takes be He adored!"
Dame Rochelle heard the approaching noise and tumult. She looked out of the window and could see the edge of the crowd in the market- place tossing to and fro like breakers upon a rocky shore. The people in the streets were hurrying towards the market. Swarms of men employed in the magazines of the Bourgeois were running out of the edifice towards the same spot.
The dame divined at once that something had happened to her master.
She uttered a fervent prayer for his safety. The noise grew greater, and as she reached out of the window to demand of passers- by what was the matter, a voice shouted up that the Bourgeois was dead; that he had been killed by the Grand Company, and they were bringing him home.
The voice passed on, and no one but God heeded the long wail of grief that rose from the good dame as she fell upon her knees in the doorway, unable to proceed further. She preserved her consciousness, however.
The crowd now swarmed in the streets about the doors of the house.
Presently were heard the shuffling steps of a number of men in the great hall, bearing the body of the Bourgeois into the large room where the sunshine was playing so gloriously.
The crowd, impelled by a feeling of reverence, stood back; only a few ventured to come into the house.
The rough habitans who brought him in laid him upon a couch and gazed for some moments in silent awe upon the noble features, so pale and placid, which now lay motionless before them.
Here was a man fit to rule an empire, and who did rule the half of New France, who was no more now, save in the love and gratitude of the people, than the poorest piece of human clay in the potter's field. The great leveller had passed his rule over him as he passes it over every one of us. The dead lion was less now than the living dog, and the Golden Dog itself was henceforth only a memory, and an epitaph forever of the tragedy of this eventful day.
"Oh, my master! my good, noble master!" exclaimed Dame Rochelle as she roused herself up and rushed to the chamber of the dead. "Your implacable enemies have killed you at last! I knew it! Oh, I knew that your precious life would one day pay the penalty of your truth and justice! And Pierre! Oh, where is he on this day of all days of grief and sorrow?"
She wrung her hands at the thought of Pierre's absence to-day, and what a welcome home awaited him.
The noise and tumult in the street continued to increase. The friends of the Bourgeois poured into the house, among them the Governor and La Corne St. Luc, who came with anxious looks and hasty steps to inquire into the details of the murder.
The Governor, after a short consultation with La Corne St. Luc, who happened to be at the Castle, fearing a riot and an attack upon the magazines of the Grand Company, ordered the troops immediately under arms and despatched strong detachments under the command of careful and trusty officers to the Palace of the Intendant, and the great warehouse of the Friponne, and also into the market-place, and to the residence of the Lady de Tilly, not knowing in what direction the fury of the populace might direct itself.
The orders were carried out in a few minutes without noise or confusion. The Count, with La Corne St. Luc, whose countenance bore a concentration of sorrow and anger wonderful to see, hastened down to the house of mourning. Claude Beauharnais and Rigaud de Vaudreuil followed hastily after them. They pushed through the crowd that filled the Rue Buade, and the people took off their hats, while the air resounded with denunciations of the Friponne and appeals for vengeance upon the assassin of the Bourgeois.
The Governor and his companions were moved to tears at the sight of their murdered friend lying in his bloody vesture, which was open to enable the worthy Dr. Gauthier, who had run in all haste, to examine the still oozing wound. The Recollet Brother Daniel still knelt in silent prayer at his feet, while Dame Rochelle with trembling hands arranged the drapery decently over her dead master, repeating to herself:
"It is the end of trouble, and God has mercifully taken him away before he empties the vials of his wrath upon this New France, and gives it up for a possession to our enemies! What says the prophet?
'The righteous perisheth and no man layeth it to heart, and merciful men are taken away, none considering that the righteous are taken away from the evil to come!'"
