# Myths and Legends Beyond Our Borders/The Grave in the Cellar

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THE GRAVE IN THE CELLAR
THE Intendant Bigot built a spacious château for himself about five miles from Quebec, at the foot of Charlesbourg Mountain. The ruin of the Château Bigot, or Beaumanoir, lasting to our time, has borne an evil reputation for spooks, and is one of many places thought to contain hidden ​treasure. In the cellar is a grave surmounted by a stone marked only with a letter C. This initial is understood to stand for Caroline.
In the eagerness of the chase Bigot was separated from his companions one evening, and plunged into a part of the wilderness he had never before explored. His quarry having escaped him, he came to a sudden sense that he was lost; that he had taken no account of bearings; that he knew not which way was north, south, east, or west, or whether Quebec lay before or behind him. He sank on a fallen log to wait until the rising of the moon should give some clue to his whereabouts, when his ears caught a soft but steady footfall. He held his musket ready, for he thought of bears, and, seeing a shape approaching, was about to fire. The figure advanced into a little twilit opening, and, lo! it was a graceful and handsome girl, dressed in the garb of an Indian. He accosted her in his best manner, and prayed her that if she knew any trail out of the wood she would lead him back to his château. This she could, and did, readily enough, and, finding the young woman to be even more attractive in the light than in the shadow, the Intendant persuaded her to enter his home and rest. Whether force, fraud, or affection kept her there is not known, but she never left the château. Caroline, for that was her name, was a half-breed, the daughter of a French officer and an Indian mother. She quickly won a place in what passed ​for the affections of Bigot that had never been gained by his other favorites, and in the comfort and seclusion of her richly furnished apartments on an upper floor she found certain amends for the gross and common life of an Indian village.
She had been installed as mistress here for some time, and had grown accustomed to her place. Those about her seemingly held her in esteem. On a night when there had been no roistering and no festivity, when the brook sang its song sleepily and the moon poured its white light through the Gothic windows, the quiet of the house was broken by a shriek of agony coming from Caroline's chamber. Bigot, being first to reach it, received into his arms the drooping form of the girl, who made an attempt to speak, but, failing, pointed to the dagger that had been plunged into her breast, then breathed her last. A servant reported the brief vision of a shadow on a private stair leading to the room. No clue was ever gained to the criminal or the cause of the crime. One surmise is that it was the father of the girl, who hated Bigot. Again, it was fancied that it might be her mother, maddened by her shame. It might have been some foe of the Intendant, striking him in what he believed to be a vulnerable point in his usually hard heart. It may have been Bigot. The general belief is that the assassin was Angélique des Moloises, an adventuress of Quebec, who had decided to marry Bigot herself, not that she loved ​him, but she wanted to rule New France. She was jealous of the sweet-natured Caroline, and may have had reason for bitterness toward the Intendant. An old version of the story makes her responsible for the murder, but has it brought about through a gift of flowers to the half-breed girl, the bouquet having been poisoned by the Canadian Borgia, the notorious La Corriveau, with something resembling the acqua tofana of Italy.