"What fools," said Doltaire presently, "to burn the bread and oven
too! If only they were less honest in a world of rogues, poor moles!"

Coming nearer, we saw that La Friponne itself was safe, but one
warehouse was doomed and another threatened. The streets were full
of people, and thousands of excited peasants, laborers, and sailors
were shouting, "Down with the palace! Down with Bigot!"

We came upon the scene at the most critical moment. None of the
Governors soldiers were in sight, but up the Heights we could hear
the steady tramp of General Montcalm's infantry as they came on.
Where were Bigot's men? There was a handful--one company--drawn up
before La Friponne, idly leaning on their muskets, seeing the great
granary burn, and watching La Friponne threatened by the mad crowd
and the fire. There was not a soldier before the Intendant's
palace, not a light in any window.

"What is this weird trick of Bigot's?" said Doltaire, musing.

The Governor, we knew, had been out of the city that day. But
where was Bigot? At a word from Doltaire we pushed forward towards
the palace, the soldiers keeping me in their midst. We were not
a hundred feet from the great steps when two gates at the right
suddenly swung open, and a carriage rolled out swiftly and dashed
down into the crowd. I recognized the coachman first--Bigot's,
an old one-eyed soldier of surpassing nerve, and devoted to his
master. The crowd parted right and left. Suddenly the carriage
stopped, and Bigot stood up, folding his arms, and glancing round