CHAPTER XLII.
THE PRINCE AND THE FRIEND.
We may remember that the Duc de Guise had invited the Duc d'Anjouto meet him in the streets of Paris that evening. However, hedetermined not to go out of his palace unless he was wellaccompanied; therefore the duke went to seek his sword, whichwas Bussy d'Amboise. For the duke to make up his mind to thisstep he must have been very much afraid; for since his deceptionwith regard to M. de Monsoreau he had not seen Bussy, and stoodin great dread of him. Bussy, like all fine natures, felt sorrowmore vividly than pleasure; for it is rare that a man intrepidin danger, cold and calm in the face of fire and sword, does notgive way to grief more easily than a coward. Those from whom awoman can draw tears most easily are those most to be feared byother men. Bussy had seen Diana received at court as Comtessede Monsoreau, and as such admitted by the queen into the circleof her maids of honor; he had seen a thousand curious eyes fixedon her unrivaled beauty. During the whole evening he had fastenedhis ardent gaze on her, who never raised her eyes to him, andhe, unjust, like every man in love, never thought how she musthave been suffering from not daring to meet his sympathizingglance.
"Oh," said he to himself, seeing that he waited uselessly fora look, "women have skill and audacity only when they want todeceive a guardian, a husband, or a mother; they are awkwardand cowardly when they have simply a debt of gratitude to pay,they fear so much to seem to love--they attach so exaggerateda value to their least favor, that they do not mind breakingtheir lover's heart, if such be their humor. Diana might havesaid to me frankly, 'I thank you for what you have done for me,but I do not love you.' The blow would have killed or cured me.But no; she prefers letting me love her hopelessly; but she hasgained nothing by it, for I no longer love her, I despise her."
And he went away with rage in his heart.
"I am mad," thought he, "to torment myself about a person whodisdains me. But why does she disdain me, or for whom? Not,surely, for that long, livid-looking skeleton, who, always byher side, covers her incessantly with his jealous glances. IfI wished it, in a quarter of an hour I could hold him mute andcold under my knee with ten inches of steel in his heart, andif I cannot be loved, I could at least be terrible and hated.Oh, her hatred! Rather than her indifference. Yes, but to actthus would be to do what a Quelus or a Maugiron would do if theyknew how to love. Better to resemble that hero of Plutarch whomI so much admired, the young Antiochus, dying of love and neveravowing it, nor uttering a complaint. Am I not called the braveBussy?"
He went home, and threw himself on a chair. How long he remainedthere he did not know when a man approached him.
"M. le Comte," said he, "you are in a fever."
"Ah, is it you, Remy?"
"Yes, count. Go to bed,"
Bussy obeyed, and all the next day Remy watched by him, withrefreshing drinks for his body and kind words for his mind. Buton the day after Bussy missed him. "Poor lad!" thought he, "hewas tired and wanted air; and then doubtless Gertrude expectedhim; she is but a femme de chambre, but she loves, and a femmede chambre who loves is better than a queen who does not."
The day passed, and Remy did not return. Bussy was angry andimpatient. "Oh!" cried he, "I, who still believed in gratitudeand friendship, will henceforth believe in nothing." Towardsevening he heard voices in his ante-chamber, and a servant entered,saying, "It is Monseigneur the Duc d'Anjou."
"Let him enter," said Bussy, frowning.
The duke, on entering the room, which was without lights, said,"It is too dark here, Bussy."
Bussy did not answer; disgust closed his mouth. "Are you reallyill," said the duke, "that you do not answer?"
"I am very ill."
"Then that is why I have not seen you for two days?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
The prince, piqued at these short answers, began to examine theroom.
"You seem to me well lodged, Bussy," said he.
Bussy did not reply.
"Bussy must be very ill," said the duke to an attendant who stoodby, "why was not Miron called? The king's doctor is not too goodfor Bussy." When the servant was gone, "Are you in grief, Bussy?"said the duke.
"I do not know."
The duke approached, becoming more and more gracious as he wasrebuffed. "Come, speak frankly, Bussy," said he.
"What am I to say, monseigneur?"
"You are angry with me?"
"I! for what? besides, it is no use to be angry with princes."The duke was silent.
"But," said Bussy, "we are losing time in preambles; to the point,monseigneur. You have need of me, I suppose?"
"Ah, M. de Bussy!"
"Yes, doubtless; do you think I believe that you come here throughfriendship; you, who love no one?"
"Oh, Bussy, to say such things to me!"
"Well, be quick, monseigneur, what do you want? When one servesa prince, and he dissimulates to the extent of calling you hisfriend, one must pay for the dissimulation by being ready tosacrifice everything, even life, if necessary."
The duke colored, but it was too dark to see it. "I wanted nothingof you, Bussy, and you deceive yourself in thinking my visitinterested. I desire only, seeing the fine evening, and thatall Paris is out to sign the League, that you should accompanyme a little about the streets."
Bussy looked at him. "Have you not Aurilly to go with you?"
"A lute-player!"
"Ah, monseigneur, you do not mention all his qualities; I believedthat he fulfilled other functions for you. Besides, you have adozen other gentlemen; I hear them in the ante-chamber."
At this moment the door opened. "Who is there?" said the duke,haughtily. "Who enters unannounced where I am?"
"I, Remy," replied the young man, without any embarrassment.
"Who is Remy?"
"The doctor, monseigneur," said the young man.
"And my friend," said Bussy. "You heard what monseigneur asks?"continued he, turning to Remy.
"Yes, that you should accompany him; but----"
"But what?" said the duke.
"But you cannot do it!"
"And why so?" cried the duke.
"Because it is too cold out of doors."
"Too cold!" cried the duke, surprised that any one should opposehim.
"Yes, too cold. Therefore I, who answer for M. Bussy's life tohimself and to his friends, must forbid him to go out." And hepressed Bussy's hand in a significant manner.
"Very well," said the duke, "if the risk be so great, he muststay." And he turned angrily to the door; but returning to thebed, he said, "Then you have decided not to come?"
"Monseigneur, you hear that the doctor forbids me."
"You ought to see Miron, he is a great doctor."
"I prefer my friend."
"Then adieu."
"Adieu, monseigneur."
No sooner was the duke gone than Remy said, "Now, monsieur, getup at once, if you please."
"What for?"
"To come out with me. This room is too warm."
"You said just now to the duke that it was too cold outside."
"The temperature has changed since."
"So that----" said Bussy, with curiosity.
"So that now I am convinced that the air will do you good."
"I do not understand."
"Do you understand the medicines I give you? Yet you take them.Come, get up; a walk with M. d'Anjou is dangerous, with me it ishealthy. Have you lost confidence in me? If so, send me away."
"Well, as you wish it." And he rose, pale and trembling.
"An interesting paleness," said Remy.
"But where are we going?"
"To a place where I have analyzed the air to-day."
"And this air?"
"Is sovereign for your complaint, monseigneur."
Bussy dressed, and they went out.