La Dame de Monsoreau (76 page)

While speaking, Diane placed one of her delicate white hands on Bussy's shoulder, and tendered to him the other, which he held lovingly pressed to his lips ; Diane trembled under that kiss.

Then they heard the light footsteps of Jeanne, accompanied by a little warning cough.

She had in one hand a bunch of fresh flowers and in the other the first butterfly that had, perhaps, ventured out of its silken shell, an Atalanta with red and black wings.

The clasped hands instinctively parted.

Jeanne noticed the movement.

" Forgive me, my good friends," said she, " for disturbing you, but if you do not return to the house we'll have a servant coming after us. M. le Comte, you will have the goodness to betake yourself to whatever spot holds that thoroughbred horse of yours which makes twelve miles in half an hour, and you will also have the kindness to permit me and Diane to make — as slowly as possible, for I imagine we'll have a good deal to talk about — the fifteen hundred steps between us and the castle. Ah, M. de Bussy, you see now what you are losing by your obstinacy — a dinner at the castle, not to be despised, I assure you, especially by a man who amuses himself by climbing over walls after a long ride, and a lot of merry

stories told by you to me and by me to you, not to reckon a certain number of glances exchanged, the sort of glances that set the heart beating awfully. Come, Diane, let us return," and Jeanne took her friend's arm and made a slight effort to draw her along.

Bussy looked at the two friends with a smile. Diane, half turned toward him, held out her hand.

He approached them.

" Well," he asked, " is that all you have to say to me ? "

*f On to-morrow," she said ;. " was not that understood ? "

" On to-morrow only ? "

" On to-morrow and forever ! "

Bussy could not keep from uttering a cry of joy ; he pressed his lips on Diane's hand; then, with a last adieu to the two women, he started away, or, rather, fled.

He felt that only by a strong effort of his will could he bring himself to leave the woman with whom he had never hoped to be united.

Diane followed him with her eyes until he had plunged into the depths of the thicket; even then she forced her friend to stop as long as she could hear the echo of his footsteps in the brushwood.

"And now," said Jeanne, when Bussy had quite disappeared, " suppose we talk a little, Diane."

" Oh, yes, yes," said the young woman, starting as if her friend's voice awoke her from a dream, " I am listening to you."

" Very good. I want to tell you I intend hunting to-morrow with Saint-Luc and your father."

" Oh, surely you would not leave me all by myself in the castle ? "

" Listen, my dear friend," answered Jeanne. " I too have my own principles of morality, and there are certain things which I cannot consent to do."

" Oh, Jeanne ! " cried Madame de Monsoreau, turning pale; " can you use such hard words to me — to me, your friend ? "

" Friendship has nothing to do with the matter," said Madame de Saint-Luc, as tranquilly as before; " this cannot continue."

" I thought you loved me, Jeanne, and now you wound me to the quick," said the young woman, with tears in her eyes. " This cannot continue, you say ; what is it, then, you would not have continue ? "

" I cannot continue,'' murmured Jeanne in her ears, " hindering you and him, poor lovers as you are, from loving each other at your ease.''

Diane clasped the laughing young woman in her arms, and covered her roguish face with kisses.

While she was holding her in a close embrace, the horns of the hunters were heard sounding a deafening flourish.

"We must hurry on, they are calling us," said Jeanne. " Poor Saint-Luc is growing impatient. You must not, by your delays, treat him worse than I intend treating the amorous individual in the cinnamon doublet."

CHAPTER LV.

HOW BUSSY MIGHT HAVE HAD THREE HUNDRED PISTOLES FOR HIS HORSE, AND PARTED WITH HIM FOR NOTHING.

BUSSY left Angers long before the earliest-rising citizen had partaken of his morning repast.

He did something more than gallop along the road — he flew.

Diane was standing on one of the terraces of the castle, from which there was a good view of the white pathway that wound its sinuous course through the green meadows.

She beheld a black point shooting toward her like a meteor, and leaving more and more of yonder tortuous ribbon behind it.

She at once ran down the slope, so that Bussy might not have to wait, and that she might have the merit of not having kept him waiting.

The sun had but as yet faintly gleamed over the tops of the giant oaks, the grass was still wet with pearly dewdrops, far away on the mountain echoed the horn of Saint-Luc, sounded at the instigation of Jeanne to remind her friend of the service she was rendering her in leaving her alone.

The joy in Diane's heart was so great and overpowering, she was so intoxicated by her youth, her beauty, and her love, that she felt sometimes during her rapid, course as if her soul were soaring aloft with her body and bearing it on wings to the throne of God.

But the distance between the castle and the thicket was long, the young woman's little feet grew weary of treading the

thick grass, and she lost breath several times on the way; so she only reached the rendezvous just at the moment when Bussy appeared on the crest of the wall and leaped to the bottom.

He saw her running; she uttered a little joyous shout ; he came to her with open arms ; she hurried to him, pressing both her hands on her heart ; their morning greeting was a long and ardent embrace.

What had they to say ? — they loved each other. What had they to think of ? — they saw each other. What had they to wish for ? — they were seated side by side, holding each other's hand.

The day passed as if it were an hour.

Bussy, as soon as Diane awoke from that entrancing languor which is the sleep of a soul overstrained by happiness, pressed the drooping woman to his breast and said:

" Diane, it seems to me that only to-day has my life begun, that only to-day have I a clear vision of the path that leads to eternity ; you are the light that has revealed to me this happiness ; I knew nothing before of this world nor of the condition of men in this world ; I can then repeat to you what I said yesterday : with you have I begun to live, with you shall my life end."

" And I," she answered, " I who once would have flung myself without regret into the arms of death, I tremble today at the thought of not living long enough to exhaust all the treasures promised me by your love. But why not come to the castle, Louis ? My father would be happy to see you ; Saint-Luc is your friend, and he is discreet. To have you with me for another hour — think what it must mean to me ! "

" Alas, Diane, if I go to the castle for an hour I shall be always there, and all the province will know of my presence ; should the rumor of it reach that ogre, your husband, he would run hither. You have forbidden me to deliver you."

" What would be the use ? " said she, in that tone which is never found but in the voice of the woman we love.

" Well, well, then, for our safety, — that is to say, for the safety of our happiness, — we must hide our secret from everybody, except Madame de Saint-Luc, who knows it already, — and Saint-Luc, who will have to know it also."

"Oh, why"

" Darling, I tell you this because I would hide nothing from

you. I wrote a line to Saint-Luc this morning, requesting an interview at Angers. He will come ; he will pledge his honor as a gentleman that never a word of this adventure shall escape his lips. What renders this the more important, my love, is the fact that people must be searching for me now in all quarters. Matters looked very grave when we were leaving Paris."

" You are right — and then, my father is so scrupulous that, though he loves me, he would be quite capable of denouncing me to M. de Monsoreau."

" We must, therefore, be very cautious. Afterward, if God deliver us to our enemies, we can, at least, say we could not have acted otherwise than we have done."

" God is good, Louis ; do not doubt of his goodness now."

" I do not doubt of God; but I am afraid of some demon, jealous of our happiness."

" It is time to part, my Louis, and do not gallop so wildly ; your horse frightens me."

" Have no fear, he knows the road already, and I have never ridden a gentler and safer steed. While returning to the city, I can indulge freely in the sweet thoughts that fill my mind, for he carries me without imposing on me the necessity of ever touching the reins."

The two lovers exchanged many observations of this nature, interrupted by as many kisses.

At length the. music of the hunting-horn grew louder and clearer; the air it played was the one agreed on as a signal between Jeanne and her friend ; and Bussy felt it was time to leave.

As he approached Angers, musing on the incidents of this enchanting day and rejoicing in his present freedom from the golden fetter in which his very honors, the management of his large fortune, and the favor of a prince of the blood had held him until now, he noticed that the hour for closing the city gates was nigh. His horse, which had spent the day in browsing on the grass and foliage, had done the same on the road, and night came on without Bussy noticing its coming.

He was on the point of clapping spurs to his steed to make up for lost time, when he heard the galloping of horses behind him.

A lover who wishes to remain concealed sees danger in every direction.

Successful lovers have this peculiarity in common with robbers.

Bussy was uncertain whether he should set his horse to a gallop and try to keep in the lead, or draw up and let the riders pass; but they rode so rapidly that they were behind him in a moment.

There were only two of them.

Bussy, considering that a man like himself, who had often encountered four men successfully, might avoid a conflict with two and not be reproached with cowardice, turned aside; then he 'noticed that one of the travellers was repeatedly plunging the rowels deep in his horse's flanks, while his companion lashed the poor animal violently.

"Well, yonder is the city," said this companion, speaking with a pronounced Gascon accent ; " ply your whip and spurs freely and you may be inside of it soon."

" But the beast is completely out of breath; he shivers and totters ; I cannot get him to move," answered the man in front of him. " I would gladly give a hundred horses to be inside my city."

" Some Angevine out late," thought Bussy. " But how stupid fear renders a, man ! I was afraid I recognized the voice. Ah! the good man's horse is staggering"

At this moment the two horsemen were alongside Bussy on the road.

" Take care, monsieur," he cried; " get off, get off quick, your horse is going to fall."

Before the words were out of Bussy's mouth the horse fell heavily on his side and stirred a leg convulsively, as if he were ploughing the ground ; then suddenly his laborious breathing ceased, his eyes grew dim, he frothed at the mouth and expired.

" Monsieur," said the dismounted cavalier to Bussy, " three hundred pistoles for your horse."

" Good heaven ! " cried Bussy, approaching.

" Do you hear me, monsieur ? I am in a hurry "

"Why, my prince, you can have him for nothing," said Bussy, trembling with unutterable emotion ; for in the traveller he recognized the Due d'Anjou.

At the same instant was heard the click of a pistol cocked by the prince's companion.

" Stop ! " cried the duke to his truculent defender. " Stop, M. d'Aubigne ! Devil take me if it is n't Bussy " —

\

512 LA DAME DE MONSOREAU.

" Yes, my prince, it is I. But why the devil are you killing horses at such an hour and on such a road ? "

" Ah, it is M. de Bussy," said D'Aubigne; " then, mon-seigneur, you no longer need me. Permit me to return to him who sent me, as the Holy Scripture says."

"Not without receiving my most sincere thanks and the promise of a lasting friendship," said the prince.

" I accept both, monseigneur, and will remind you of them some day."

" M. d'Aubigne • — and your highness ! — am I standing on my head or on my heels ? "

" You were not aware, then, of how things stand at present ? " inquired the prince, with an air of distrust and annoyance that did not escape his gentleman's notice. "You did not come here to wait for me, then ? "

" Hang it! " thought Bussy, reflecting how equivocal his appearance in Anjou must seem to one so suspicious as Fran-qois, " I must be cautious ! I did better than wait for you," he said aloud, " and, since you wish to enter the city before the closing of the gates, — to horse, monseigneur !"

He offered his steed to the prince, who was busy removing some important papers from between the saddle and saddlecloth of the dead animal.

"Adieu, then, monseigneur," said D'Aubigne, wheeling round. " M. de Bussy, your servant."

And he galloped off.

Bussy jumped up behind his master and directed the course of the horse to the city, all the time wondering if this black-apparelled prince were not the evil demon which hell, jealous of his happiness, had sent to trouble it.

They entered Angers just as the closing of the gates was being proclaimed by sound of trumpet.

" Where are we to go now, monseigneur ? " asked Bussy.

" To the castle. My banner must be hoisted on the walls, my presence made known, and the nobility of the province convoked."