United States or French Guiana ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Bussy d'Amboise, Louis de Clermont, Comte de Bussy, do you not see the true Henri, do you not know the true king from the false? He to whom you are going is Chicot, my jester, at whom I so often laugh."
"That Monsoreau will trust to his strength, and that Bussy will escape him." "Reassure yourself, monseigneur." "Why?" "Is M. de Bussy irrevocably condemned?" "Yes, mordieu! A man who dictates to me who takes away from me her whom I was seeking for who is a sort of lion, of whom I am less the master than the keeper yes, Aurilly, he is condemned without mercy."
And he made a lunge at me, which I diverted by a parry made on instinct, not having had time to bring my mind to the direction of matters. Bussy then stood back on guard. "You lie," said De Quelus, vainly trying to find sufficient strength in his arm to lift his sword. "I was alone. My servants are as near as yours, yet I have not called. As for this gentleman, I never saw him before."
Bussy uttered a cry of joy, and threw away his broken sword: at the same moment Monsoreau fired at Remy, and the ball entered his brain. This time he fell to rise no more. Bussy uttered a cry. His strength seemed to return to him, and he whirled round his sword in a circle, cutting through a wrist at his right hand, and laying open a cheek at his left.
This speech seemed to be exactly what Marguerite had desired of me, for she smiled and said, "I shall not forget you, M. de la Tournoire," before she turned away. Bussy followed her, and I returned to De Rilly. "Why should they pay any attention to me?" I said to him. "No newcomer is too insignificant to be sought as an ally where there are so many parties," he replied, indifferently.
The king signed to the usher to leave the room, but Chicot said, "Never mind me, I sleep like a top," and closing his eyes again, he began to snore with all his strength. "Your majesty," said Quelus, "knows only half the business, and that the least interesting half. Assuredly, we have all dined with M. de Bussy, and to the honor of his cook, be it said, dined well.
You ought to have seen him gallop from the field without a scratch, while his enemies pulled themselves together and took to their heels." "What is that, over there?" I inquired, rising to my feet, and discovering that I was not badly hurt. "A dead man who was as much alive as any of us before he ran to help M. Bussy.
Had I known anything of Paris, I would have attempted to lead them wrong, but I knew no more of it than from the church to the house, nor did I know any one of whom I could ask a quarter of an hour's hospitality; not a friend, and only one protector, whom I feared more than an enemy." "Oh! mon Dieu!" cried Bussy, "why did not Heaven, or chance, throw me sooner in your path?"
The city was illuminated, guns were fired, the bells of the cathedral were rung, and the wind carried to Meridor the noisy joy of the good Angevins. When the duke and Bussy were left alone, the duke said, "Let us talk."
The blood mounted to the cheeks of Bussy, and then he grew so pale, that his secret would certainly have been betrayed, had not Jeanne been looking at her husband with a smile. Bussy therefore had time to recover himself, and said, "Where is that?" "It is the property of one of my best friends." "One of your best friends, and are they at home?"
Word Of The Day