“France has many beautiful things,” he replied quietly.

“Well spoken, Mr. Lennox!  A compliment to us from one of another race is worth having,” said de Courcelles.  But Robert thought he saw that significant look pass for a second time between de Courcelles and Boucher.  The long dinner drew to its close and the invited guests passed into the private ballroom, where the band began to play dance music.  In the other ballroom, the one intended for the general public, the people were dancing already, and another band was playing.

Now Bigot was in his element, swelling with importance and good humor, easy, graceful, jesting with men and women, wishing the world well, knowing that he could milk from the royal treasury the money he was spending tonight, and troubled by no twinges of conscience.  Cadet hovered near his powerful partner and Pean, Maurin, Penisseault and Corpron were not far away.  Robert looked with interest at the ballroom which was decorated gorgeously.  The balcony was filled already with spectators who would watch the lords and ladies dance.  There was no restraint.  No Father Drouillard was present to give rebuke and all the honnetes gens were absent, unless a few young officers like de Galisonniere, who sympathized with them, be excepted.

They began to dance to light, tripping music, and to Robert all the women seemed beautiful and graceful now, and all the men gay and gallant.  He could dance the latest dances himself, and meant to do so soon, but for the present he would wait, standing by the wall and looking on.  Willet came to him, and evidently intended to whisper something, but de Courcelles, by the youth’s side, intervened laughingly.

“No secrets, Mr. Willet,” he said.  “No grave and serious matters can be discussed at the Intendant’s ball.  It is one of our rules that when we work we work and when we play we play.  It is a useful lesson which you Bostonnais should learn.”

Then Jumonville came and began to talk to the hunter in such direct fashion that he was compelled to respond, and presently he was drawn away, leaving Robert with de Courcelles.

“You at least dance, do you not?” asked de Courcelles.

“Yes,” replied Robert, “I learned it at Albany.”

“Shall I get you a partner?”

“In a little while, if you will be so good, Colonel de Courcelles, but just now I’d rather see the others dancing.  A most brilliant assemblage.  I never beheld its like before.”

“Brilliant for Quebec,” said a voice at his elbow, “but you should go to Paris, the very heart and center of the world, to see great pleasure and great splendor in the happiest combination.”

It was the grim and freckle-faced Boucher, and again Robert detected that challenging under note in his voice.  In spite of himself his blood grew hot.

“I don’t know much about Paris,” he said.  “I’ve never been there, although I hope to go some day, but Quebec affords both pleasure and splendor in high degree tonight.”