CHAPTER LXXVII.
IN WHAT RESPECT M. DE ST. LUC WAS MORE CIVILIZED THAN M. DE BUSSY,THE LESSONS WHICH HE GAVE HIM, AND THE USE WHICH M. DE BUSSYMADE OF THEM.
St. Luc returned, proud of having executed his commission sowell. Bussy thanked him, but looked sad, which was not naturalto him.
"Have I done badly?" said St. Luc.
"Ma foi, my dear friend, I only regret you did not say, 'at once.'"
"Why! what is the hurry?"
"I wish to die as soon as possible."
St. Luc looked at him in astonishment.
"Die! at your age, with your name, and Diana!"
"Yes, I shall kill them, I know, but I shall receive some goodblow which will tranquilize me forever."
"What black ideas, Bussy!"
"A husband whom I thought dead, and who has returned to life;a wife who can scarcely quit the bedside of the pretended dyingman. Not to see her, smile on her, touch her hand. Mon Dieu!----"
St. Luc interrupted him with a burst of laughter. "Oh!" criedhe, "the innocent man. Why, no lover can be more fortunate thanyou."
"Prove that to me."
"You are the friend of M. de Monsoreau."
"Yes, I am ashamed to say, he calls me his friend."
"Well! be his friend."
"Oh! and abuse this title!"
"Is he really your friend?"
"He says so."
"No; for he makes you unhappy. Now the end of friendship is tomake one another happy. At least, so his majesty says, and heis learned in friendship. So, if he makes you unhappy, he is notyour friend; therefore you may treat him either as a stranger,and take his wife from him, or as an enemy, and kill him if hemurmurs."
"In fact, I hate him. But do you not think he loves me?"
"Diable! Take away his wife and see."
"I must continue to be a man of honor."
"And let Madame de Monsoreau cure her husband both physicallyand morally. For it is certain that if you get yourself killed,she will attach herself to the only man who remains to her."
Bussy frowned.
"But," added St. Luc, "here is my wife; she always gives goodadvice. She has been picking herself a bouquet in the gardensof the queen-mother, and will be in a good humor. Listen to her;she speaks gold."
Jeanne arrived radiant, full of happiness and fun. Bussy salutedher in a friendly manner, and she held out her hand to him, saying,with a smile, "How go on the love affairs?"
"They are dying."
"They are wounded and fainting; perhaps you can restore them,Jeanne?"
"Let me see; show me the wound."
"In two words, this is it: M. de Bussy does not like smiling onM. de Monsoreau, and he thinks of retiring."
"And leaving Diana to him?"
"Oh! madame, St. Luc does not tell you that I wish to die."
"Poor Diana!" murmured Jeanne, "decidedly men are ungrateful."
"Good! this is the conclusion my wife draws."
"I, ungrateful!" cried Bussy, "because I fear to render my lovevile, by practising a disgraceful hypocrisy?"
"Oh! monsieur, that is only a pretext. If you were really inlove, you would fear but one thing--not to be loved in return."
"But, madame, there are sacrifices----"
"Not another word. Confess that you love Diana no longer; it willbe more worthy of a gallant man."
Bussy grew pale.
"You do not dare to tell her; well, I will."
"Madame! madame!"
"You are rich, you men, with your sacrifices. And does she makenone? What! expose herself to be massacred by that tiger of aMonsoreau, preserve her position only by employing a strengthof will of which Samson or Hannibal would have been incapable.Oh! I swear, Diana is sublime, I could not do a quarter of whatshe does every day."
"Thank you!" said St. Luc.
"And he hesitates!" continued she, "he does not fall on his kneesand say his mea culpa."
"You are right," said Bussy, "I am but a man, that is to say,an imperfect creature, inferior to the most commonplace woman."
"It is lucky you are convinced of it."
"What do you order me?"
"To go at once and pay it visit----"
"To M. de Monsoreau?"
"Who speaks of him?--to Diana."
"But he never leaves her."
"When you went so often to see Madame de Barbezieux, had shenot always near her that great ape who bit you because he wasjealous?"
Bussy began to laugh, and St. Luc and Jeanne followed his example.
"Madame," then said Bussy, "I am going to M. de Monsoreau's house;adieu."
He went there, and found the count in bed; he was delighted tosee him, and told him that Remy promised that his wound wouldbe cured in three weeks. Bussy recounted to him the commissionwith which he had been charged, and his visit to the court.
"The duke has still projects on foot, has he not?"
"I believe so."
"Do not compromise yourself for that bad man; I know him: he isperfidious, and will not hesitate to betray you."
"I know it."
"You are my friend, and I wish to put you on your guard."
"You must sleep after the dressing of your wound," said Remy.
"Yes, my dear doctor. My friend, take a turn in the garden withMadame de Monsoreau."
"I am at your orders," replied Bussy.