La Dame de Monsoreau (99 page)

" In fact," said Bussy, " I detest him."

" And he is afraid of you."

" Do you think he does not like me ? "

" Egad, find out. Take his wife from him and you '11 see."

" Is that, too, the logic of Father Triquet ? "

" No, it 's mine."

" Allow me to compliment you on it."

« You like it ? "

" No, I prefer to be a man of honor."

" And let Madame cle Monsoreau cure her husband both physically and morally, for it is certain that if you get yourself killed she will become attached to the only man left her."

Bussy frowned.

" But, at any rate," added Saint-Luc, " here comes Madame de Saint-Luc, and her advice is worth having. After gathering a nosegay in the queen mother's garden, she will be in the best of humor. Listen to her ; her words are golden."

He had hardly finished when Jeanne appeared, radiant with happiness and as arch and roguish as ever.

Hers was one of those winsome natures that, like the lark soaring-over the plains, awakens joy and hope in the hearts of all within its reach.

Bussy saluted her cordially.

She offered him her hand, which is a convincing proof that this mode of greeting existed before our ambassador, Abbe Dubois, was said to have brought it with him from England with the treaty of the Triple Alliance.

" And how is your love affair progressing ? " she asked, as she tied her flowers with a golden thread.

" Sinking into the grave," said Bussy.

" Oh, nonsense," answered Saint-Luc, " it is only wounded or in a fainting-fit. I am ready to wager that Jeanne will restore the patient to life, won't you, Jeanne ?"

" But," said she, " I must first see the wound."

" In two words," said Saint-Luc, " this is the gist of the matter: Bussy objects to being on friendly terms with Monsoreau and has decided to withdraw/'

" And forsake Diane ? " cried Jeanne, in terror.

Bussy was moved by her emotion and added :

" Ah ! inadame, Saint-Luc has not told you that I wish for death."

Jeanne gazed at him for a moment with a compassion that was not altogether saint-like.

" Poor Diane !" she murmured. " Oh ! the value of love! What ingrates men are ! "

" Capital! " exclaimed Saint-Luc. " Now you have a touch of the morality of my wife."

" I an ingrate! " cried Bussy, " and all because I refuse to degrade my love by practising a disgraceful hypocrisy ! "

" Oh, monsieur, that is but a discreditable pretence/' said Jeanne. "If you were really in love, the only degradation you would fear would be that of being no longer loved."

"Aha ! " said Saint-Luc, " you 're catching it, my friend."

" But, madame," cried Bussy, passionately, " there are sacrifices that"

" Not another word. Confess you love Diane no longer. It will be more worthy of a man with any chivalry in him."

Bussy turned pale at the mere thought.

" You do not dare to say so to her ? Then I will."

" Madame ! madame !"

" Oh, you are splendid fellows, you men, you and your sacrifices — And do we make no sacrifices ? What! she exposes herself to the danger of being murdered by that tiger Monsoreau; she preserves all her rights by the display of a strength of will to which a Samson and a Hannibal were strangers; she tames a ferocious beast, and all that she may harness herself to the chariot wheels of the triumphant gentleman before me, — and that is not heroism ? Oh! I call Heaven to witness that Diane is sublime, and I should not have been able to do a quarter of what she does every day."

" Thank you," answered Saint-Luc, with a most reverential bow, at which Jeanne burst out laughing.

Bussy hesitated.

" And he reflects ! " cries Jeanne; " he does not fall on his knees and say his mea culpa ! "

" You are right,'' said Bussy. " I am only a man, that is to say, an imperfect creature, and inferior to the most commonplace woman."

" It is very fortunate," said Jeanne; " that you are convinced at last."

" What do you order me to do ? "

" Go and visit "

" M. de Monsoreau ? "

" Who is talking of Monsoreau ? —Diane."

" But they are always together, as far as I

" When you used to visit Madame de Barbezieux did she not always have that big monkey of hers beside her, and did it not bite you because it was jealous ? "

Bussy had to laugh, Saint-Luc imitated him, and Jeanne followed suit. Their laughter was so noisy that it brought all the courtiers walking in the galleries of the Louvre to the windows.

" Madame," said Bussy, at length, " I am going to the Hotel de Monsoreau. Adieu."

Thereupon they separated, after Bussy had warned Saint-Luc to say nothing of the impending duel with the minions.

He found Monsoreau in bed.

The count uttered an exclamation of pleasure as soon as he saw him. /

Remy had just promised him that his wound would heal in three weeks.

Diane laid a finger on her lips : it was her manner of saluting her lover.

Bussy had to relate to Monsoreau the entire history of the commission entrusted to him by the Due d'Anjou, his visit to the court, the King's ungracious reception, and the coldness shown him by the minions.

" Coldness " was the word used by Bussy. Diane was forced to laugh.

These tidings rendered Monsoreau very thoughtful. He requested Bussy to bring his face close to his, and whispered in his ear.

"There is some scheme or other under all this, is there not ? "

" I believe so," answered Bussy.

" Take my advice," said the grand huntsman. " Do not get into trouble for the sake of that base villain. I know him ; he is treacherous; capable of the blackest perfidy, I assure you."

" I know it," answered Bussy, with a smile which reminded the count of the occasion upon which his new friend had been a sufferer from the duke's double dealing.

" You see," resumed Monsoreau, " you are my friend and I wish to put you on your guard. I hope you will ask my advice every time you are in a difficult position."

" Monsieur ! monsieur ! " cried Remy. " You must really go to sleep now, as you have had your wound dressed. Come, come, go to sleep."

" Yes, my dear doctor. My friend, be kind enough to take a turn in the garden with Madame de Monsoreau. I am told it is charming at this time of the year."

" I am at your orders/' replied Bussy.

CHAPTER LXXIX.

THE PRECAUTIONS OF M. DE MONSOREAU.

SAINT-LUC was right, Jeanne was right; Bussy saw this at the end of the week and did them full justice.

Bussy had often thought what a grand and glorious thing it would be to have been a hero of antiquity. But, if he had been a hero of antiquity, he should now be a very old man, and Bussy, forgetful of Plutarch, who had ceased to be his favorite author ever since love had corrupted him; Bussy, as handsome as Alcibiades ; Bussy, caring for nothing except the present, had little liking for historical articles dealing with the continence of Scipio or Bayard.

Diane was more simple, more of a child of nature, as we say to-day. She was entirely swayed by two instincts which the misanthropical Figaro tells us are innate in the female species : love and deception. She had never had the least idea of making her opinions on what Charron and Montaigne call honeste a subject of philosophical speculation.

To love Bussy was her logic; to belong to Bussy, her ethics; to thrill in every fibre of her body at the slightest touch of his hand, her metaphysics.

Since the fortnight when the accident had occurred, M. de Monsoreau had been growing better and better. He had escaped fever, thanks to the application of cold water, — a new remedy revealed by chance, or rather by Providence, to Am-broise Pare, — when he suddenly experienced a fresh shock : he learned that the Due d'Anjou had just arrived at Paris with the queen mother and his Angevines.

There was some reason for the count's uneasiness : the day after his arrival, the prince, under the pretext of inquiring after the grand huntsman's health, entered his hotel in the Rue des Petits-Peres. You cannot very well close your doors in the face of a princely personage who gives you such proof

of a tender interest in your condition. M. de Monsoreau received the prince, who was most amiable to M. de Monsoreau, but particularly amiable to M. de Monsoreau's wife.

As soon as the duke was gone, Monsoreau called for Diane, and, in spite of the remonstrances of Kemy, walked thrice around his armchair, leaning on her arm.

After this, he sat down again in the same armchair, around which, as we have said, he had just traced a triple line of cir-cumvallation. He looked as if he was well pleased, and Diane, guessed from his smile that he was plotting some underhand manoeuvre.

But this matter has to do with the private history of the house of Monsoreau.

Let us return, then, to the arrival of the Due d'Anjou, which belongs to the epic portion of our narrative.

The day when Monseigneur Francois de Valois made his entry into the Louvre was, as may be easily imagined, a very interesting day to those who witnessed it.

And this is what they saw :

Great arrogance in the behavior of the King.

Great indifference in the behavior of the queen mother.

A sort of humble insolence in the behavior of the Due d'Anjou, who seemed to be saying:

" Why the devil did you recall me, if you look so sourly on me now that I am here ? "

This ungracious reception was rendered still more interesting by the furious, flaming, devouring looks of Messieurs Liv-arot, Ribeirac, and Entragues, who, having been forewarned by Bussy, were delighted to show their future adversaries, that, if no obstacle to the duel came from the minions, assuredly none should come on their side.

On that day, Chicot moved about more actively than Caesar on the eve of the battle of Pharsalia.

And then matters settled down quietly enough.

Two days after his return to the Louvre, Franqois paid a second visit to the Comte de Monsoreau.

The grand huntsman had been informed of the nature of the duke's interview with his brother in its slightest details, and did his best, by voice and gesture, to inflame the former's animosity toward the King.

The grand huntsman was improving every day, and, when the prince departed, he took the arm of his wife again, and,

instead of walking thrice round his chair, he walked once round the apartment.

Then he sat down, and looked even better pleased than on the first occasion.

That same evening Diane warned Bussy that it was quite certain M. de Monsoreau had some scheme or other in his head.

A moment after, Monsoreau and Bussy were alone.

" When I think," said Monsoreau to Bussy, " that this prince, who looks so sweet upon me, is my deadly enemy, and is the prime mover in Saint-Luc's attempt to assassinate me "

"Assassinate you!" exclaimed Bussy. " Oh ! monsieur, that is going too far. Saint-Luc is an honorable gentleman, and you have acknowledged yourself that you challenged him, were the first to draw, and received your wound while fighting."

" I agree to all that, but it is not the less true he acted at the instigation of the Due d'Anjou."

" Listen," said Bussy, " I know the duke, but I know Saint-Luc better. I must tell you Saint-Luc is entirely devoted to the King and anything but devoted to the prince. If your wound, indeed, had come from'Antraguet, Livarot, orRibeirac, I could understand — but from Saint-Luc "

" You do not know the history of France as I know it, my dear M. de Bussy," said Monsoreau, stubborn in his opinion.

Bussy might have answered that, though he did not know the history of France, he was perfectly well acquainted with the history of Anjou, especially with that of a corner of it called Meridor.

At length the time came when Monsoreau was able to rise and walk in the garden.

" I am well enough now," said he, as he was returning with Rerny ; " this evening we shall change our quarters."

" Why so ? " asked the doctor. " Do you consider the air of the Rue des Petits-Peres bad for you, or do you want more society ? "

" On the contrary, I have too much society," said Monsoreau. " M. d'Anjou wearies me with his visits ; he is always accompanied by thirty of his gentlemen, and the jingling of their spurs irritates my nerves."

" But where are you going ? "

" I have ordered my little house at Les Tournelles to be got ready."

Bussy and Diane, for Bussy was always present, exchanged a look of loving remembrance.

" What! that hovel ! " cried Remy, thoughtlessly.

" Ah ! you know it, then ? " said Morisoreau.

" Pardieu! who does n't know the abodes of the grand huntsman of France, and, especially, one who has lived in the Rue Beautrellis ? "

Monsoreau was naturally mistrustful, and some vague suspicion arose in his mind.

" Yes, yes, I will go there," said he ; "I shall feel quite at my ease in the little house. Four persons are as many as it can hold conveniently. It is a fortress, and I can see from the windows any one who comes to visit me three 'hundred yards off."

" So that " — inquired Remy.

" So that I can refuse to receive him if I wish, particularly when I am completely recovered."

Bussy bit his lips ; he feared there might come a time when he would refuse to receive him.

Diane sighed. She remembered the time when she had seen Bussy lying wounded and in a deathlike swoon upon her bed.

Remy was reflecting; consequently, he was the first of the three to speak.