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But into Bussy's manner toward his King there was this flash of lightning from Olympus: "My life, sire, is yours, as my King, to take or leave; but not even you may dare to think of taking the life of Bussy with the dust of least reproach upon it. My life you may blow out; my honor you do not dare approach to question!" There are advantages in being a gentleman, which can not be denied.
For gay and amusing letters, for 'enjouement and badinage, there are none that equal Comte Bussy's and Madame Sevigne's. They are so natural, that they seem to be the extempore conversations of two people of wit, rather, than letters which are commonly studied, though they ought not to be so. I would advise you to let that book be one in your itinerant library; it will both amuse and inform you.
He seized a stool of carved wood, and struck three blows with it, and knocked down two men; but it broke on the shoulder of the third, who sent his dagger into Bussy's breast. Bussy seized him by the wrist, forced the dagger from him, and stabbed him to the heart. The last man jumped out of the window.
Therefore I, who answer for M. Bussy's life to himself and to his friends, must forbid him to go out." And he pressed Bussy's hand in a significant manner. "Very well," said the duke, "if the risk be so great, he must stay." And he turned angrily to the door; but returning to the bed, he said, "Then you have decided not to come?" "Monseigneur, you hear that the doctor forbids me."
Presently a door opened, and the rustling of a silk dress struck on Bussy's ear. Then he heard a woman's voice, expressive at once of fear and disdain, saying: "Here I am, monsieur, what do you want now?" "Madame," replied the man, "I have the honor of telling you that, forced to set off to-morrow morning for Fontainebleau, I come to pass the night with you." "Do you bring me news of my father?"
This movement had been so rapid, that the ball fired at him from the arquebuse only struck the prie-Dieu. Diana sobbed aloud. Bussy glanced at her, and then at his assailants, crying, "Come on, but take care, for my sword is sharp." The men advanced, and one tried to seize the prie-Dieu, but before he reached it, Bussy's sword pierced his arm. The man uttered a cry, and fell back.
"Monsieur," said Chicot, rising and imitating M. de Bussy's manner of a little before, "I do not love questions, nor questioners, therefore I have a great mind to let them do to you what they have done to-night to the duke." "M. Chicot," said Bussy, with a smile, "speak, I beg of you; where is the duke?" "He is in prison?" "Where?" "In his own room. Four of my good friends guard him.
I accept; we will settle that later." The duke gave Bussy his hand, and they separated. Bussy returned home, but instead of St. Luc, whom he expected, he found only a letter fixing their meeting for the next day. About six in the morning St. Luc started, and rode straight to Bussy's house. "Accept the hospitality of my poor hut, St. Luc," said Bussy, "I am encamped here."
I knew you were here also, and I thought there might be civil war, and many holes made in skins, so I came." "You did well, Remy; I wanted you." "How is Gertrude, monsieur?" "I will ask Diana the first time I see her." "And, in return, every time I see her I will ask for news of Madame de Monsoreau." "You are charming." Meanwhile they had reached Bussy's lodging.
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