CHAPTER LXXIX.
A VISIT TO THE HOUSE AT LES TOURNELLES.
The duke became more and more in love with Diana, as she seemedalways to escape him, and with his love for her, his hatred ofMonsoreau increased. On the other side he had not renounced hispolitical hopes, but had recommenced his underhand machinations.The moment was favorable, for many wavering conspirators hadbeen encouraged by the kind of triumph which the weakness ofthe king, and the cunning of Catherine, had given to the duke;however, he no longer confided his projects to Bussy, and showedhim only a hypocritical friendship. He was vaguely uneasy atseeing him at Monsoreau's house, and envious of the confidencethat Monsoreau, so suspicious of himself, placed in him. He wasfrightened also at the joy and happiness which shone in Diana'sface. He knew that flowers only bloom in the light of the sun,and women in that of love. She was visibly happy, and this annoyedhim. Determined to use his power, both for love and vengeance,he thought it would be absurd to be stayed in this purpose bysuch ridiculous obstacles as the jealousy of a husband, and therepugnance of a wife. One day he ordered his equipages, intendingto visit Monsoreau. He was told that he had moved to his housein the Rue St. Antoine.
"Let us go there," said he to Bussy. Soon the place was in commotionat the arrival of the twenty-four handsome cavaliers, each withtwo lackeys, who formed the prince's suite. Both Bussy and theprince knew the house well; they both went in, but while theprince entered the room, Bussy remained on the staircase. Itresulted from this arrangement that the duke was received byMonsoreau alone, while Bussy was received by Diana, while Gertrudekept watch. Monsoreau, always pale, grew livid at sight of theprince.
"Monseigneur, here! really it is too much honor for my poor house!"cried he, with a visible irony.
The prince smiled. "Wherever a suffering friend goes, I followhim," replied he. "How are you?"
"Oh, much better; I can already walk about, and in a week I shallbe quite well."
"Was it your doctor who prescribed for you the air of the Bastile?"asked the prince, with the most innocent air possible.
"Yes, monseigneur."
"Did you not like the Rue des Petits-Peres?"
"No, monseigneur; I had too much company there--they made toomuch noise."
"But you have no garden here."
"I did not like the garden."
The prince bit his lips. "Do you know, comte," said he, "thatmany people are asking the king for your place?"
"On what pretext, monseigneur?"
"They say you are dead."
"Monseigneur, you can answer for it that I am not."
"I answer for nothing; you bury yourself as though you were dead."
It was Monsoreau's turn to bite his lips.
"Well, then, I must lose my place," said he.
"Really?"
"Yes; there are things I prefer to it."
"You are very disinterested."
"It is my character, monseigneur."
"Then of course you will not mind the king's knowing yourcharacter?"
"Who will tell him?"
"Diable! if he asks me about you, I must repeat our conversation."
"Ma foi! monseigneur, if all they say in Paris were reportedto the king, his two ears would not be enough to listen with."
"What do they say at Paris, monsieur?" asked the prince sharply.
Monsoreau tried to calm himself. "How should a poor invalid, asI am, know?" said he. "If the king is angry at seeing his workbadly done, he is wrong."
"How so?"
"Because, doubtless, my accident proceeds, to some extent, fromhim."
"Explain yourself."
"M. de St. Luc, who wounded me, is a dear friend of the king's.It was the king who taught him the thrust by which he woundedme, and it might have been the king who prompted him."
"You are right; but still the king is the king."
"Until he is so no longer."
The duke trembled. "Is not Madame de Monsoreau here?" said he.
"Monseigneur, she is ill, or she would have come to present herrespects to you."
"Ill! poor woman! it must be grief at seeing you suffer."
"Yes, and the fatigue of moving."
"Let us hope it will be a short indisposition. You have so skilfula doctor."
"Yes, that dear Remy----"
"Why, he is Bussy's doctor."
"He has lent him to me."
"You are, then, great friends?"
"He is my best, I might say my only, friend."
"Adieu, come!"
As the duke raised the tapestry, he fancied he saw the skirtof a dress disappear into the next room, and immediately Bussyappeared at his post in the middle of the corridor. Suspiciongrew stronger with the duke.
"We are going," said he to Bussy, who ran down-stairs withoutreplying; while the duke, left alone, tried to penetrate thecorridor where he had seen the silk dress vanish. But, turning,he saw that Monsoreau had followed, and was standing at the door.
"Your highness mistakes your way," said he.
"True," said the duke, "thank you." And he went down with ragein his heart. When he returned home, Aurilly glided into hisroom.
"Well," said the duke, "I am baffled by the husband!"
"And, perhaps, also by the lover, monseigneur."
"What do you say?"
"The truth."
"Speak, then."
"I hope your highness will pardon me--it was in your service."
"I pardon you in advance. Go on."
"After your highness had gone up-stairs, I watched under a shedin the courtyard."
"Ah! What did you see?"
"I saw a woman's dress; I saw this woman lean forward, and thenI heard the sound of along and tender kiss."
"But who was the man?"
"I cannot recognize arms."
"No, but you might gloves."
"Indeed, it seemed to me----"
"That you recognized them?"
"It was only a guess."
"Never mind."
"Well, monseigneur, they looked like the gloves of M. de Bussy."
"Buff, embroidered with gold, were they not?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"Ah! Bussy! yes, it was Bussy. Oh, I was blind and yet not blind;but I could not believe in so much audacity."
"But your highness must not believe it too lightly; might therenot have been a man hidden in her room?"
"Yes, doubtless, but Bussy, who was in the corridor, would haveseen him."
"That is true."
"And then the gloves----"
"Yes, and besides the kiss, I heard----"
"What?"
"Three words, 'Till to-morrow evening.'"
"Oh! mon Dieu!"
"So that, if you like, we can make sure."
"Aurilly, we will go."
"Your highness knows I am at your orders."
"Ah! Bussy, a traitor! Bussy, the honest man--Bussy, who doesnot wish me to be King of France;" and the duke, smiling withan infernal joy, dismissed Aurilly.