De Galisonniere did not stay long, and after his departure Robert and his friends reconsidered their determination, deciding that it was best to brave Quebec and whatever it should have to offer in the full light of day.  The hunter’s apprehensions that a quarrel might be forced upon them were not justified, as Canadian and French politeness held true, and they were received only with curiosity and interest.

They gazed again at the great stone buildings and also took a brief view of the Intendant’s palace, where they expected to dine in the evening.  It was a palace in extent, but not in beauty, a great rambling building of both timber and masonry, with a green lawn and flower gardens near by.  It was said that Bigot and his predecessors had spent huge sums on the interior decoration, but that Robert expected soon to see for himself.

Returning to the Inn of the Eagle late in the afternoon, they began to array themselves for Bigot’s dinner, not wishing the Bostonnais to appear at a disadvantage before the noblesse of Quebec.  Monsieur Berryer sent them a barber, Gaston, who not only shaved the two white faces, but who powdered and arranged their queues, and also manicured their nails and gave their coats and waistcoats a rakish set, which he assured them was quite the latest mode in Paris.  Robert took all his advice.  He was very particular about his attire, knowing that however much the jealous might criticize fine dress it always had its effect.

The hunter watched Robert as he and Gaston arranged the new Paris styles with a look that was almost paternal.  The fine youth had exceeded Willet’s best hopes.  Tall, straight, frank and open, he had the sound mind in the sound body which is the sum of excellence, and the hunter was glad to see him particular.  It was a part of his heritage, and became him.

They were not to leave the Inn of the Eagle until after dusk, and Willet suggested that they should not start until late, as they could walk to the palace in a few minutes.  But Robert said boldly that they would not walk.  It was fitting for the messengers of the Governor of New York to ride and he would have Monsieur Berryer to call a caleche.  Willet assented with a laugh.

“You’re right, Robert,” he said, “but I ride so little in carriages that I didn’t think of it.”

The night was rather dark, but when the three in the caleche approached the palace they saw many men holding torches, and many people back of them watching.  The entertainments of Francois Bigot were famous in Quebec for lavish splendor, and the uninvited usually came in numbers to see the guests go in.

“Be on your guard tonight, Robert,” whispered Willet.  “This is a society to which you’re not used, although I’ll not deny that you could soon learn it.  But the French think we English, whether English English or American English, are inferior in wit and quickness to themselves, and there may be some attempts at baiting the bear before we leave.”