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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 was rebuffed. "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.
Monsieur has been muttering again, I suppose, and this, with the fact that Bussy d'Amboise keeps so quiet outside of Paris, has led the King to fear that Monsieur has planned to escape to the country.
And as they had walked down to the old copse, St. Luc pointed out the spot where Bussy always came over. "Ah!" continued he, "here is a wall in a bad state; I must warn the baron." "Whom do you suspect?" "Of what?" "Of climbing over here to talk to my wife." St. Luc seemed to reflect. "Diable!" said he, "it could only have been " "Whom?" "Why, yourself." "Are you joking, M. de St. Luc?"
In the corridor he stopped, for he heard a voice say, "Gertrude, tell your mistress that it is I, and that I must come in." This was said in an imperious tone, and, a minute after, Bussy heard a woman's voice say: "Pass into the drawing-room, Monsieur, and madame will come to you." Then he heard the sound of a door shutting.
"Ah," said he, "we will make a triumphal entry into the Louvre." "Eh! monseigneur," cried he to the duke. The prince turned. "You, Bussy!" cried he joyfully, "I heard you were badly wounded, and I was going to your hotel." "Ma foi, monseigneur, if I am not dead, it is thanks to no one but myself. You get me into nice situations; that ball at St.
I know I should have translated it to them: you remember what admirable work I used to make of such stories in broken Italian. I have heard old Churchill tell Bussy English puns out of jest-books: particularly a reply about eating hare, which he translated, "j'ai mon ventre plein de poil." Adieu! ARLINGTON STREET, March 29, 1745.
"That letter will frighten Brother Foulon into immediate action," said Marguerite, "and he will be compelled to destroy it, as it incriminates him. Take these others. You will first go to Angers, and deliver this to the Duke of Anjou, this to M. de Bussy. Then proceed to Gascony with this, for the King of Navarre." "And I am to start?" "To-night.
"That depends on the service, monsieur," replied Bussy, disdainfully. Chicot feigned not to remark this air of disdain. "Monsieur," said he, sitting down and crossing his long legs, "I remark that you do not ask me to sit down." The color mounted to Bussy's face. "Monsieur," continued Chicot, "have you heard of the League?" "I have heard much of it," said Bussy.
"Pardon, M. Quelus," said he, "but do you still live in the Rue St. Honore?" "Yes, my dear friend; why do you ask?" "I have two words to say to you." "Ah!" "And you, M. de Schomberg?" "Rue Bethisy," said Schomberg, astonished. "D'Epernon's address I know." "Rue de Grenelle." "You are my neighbor. And you, Maugiron?" "Near the Louvre. But I begin to understand; you come from M. de Bussy."
During these transactions, Sallabatzing, with a body of French under M. de Bussy, advanced towards Aurengabad, which was the seat of government; but he was opposed by a chief of the Mahrattas, at the head of a numerous army.
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