CHAPTER LVI.

THE DIPLOMACY OF THE DUC D’ANJOU.

When the duke and Bussy were left alone, the duke said, “Let us

talk.”

François, who was very quick, had perceived that Bussy had made

more advances to him than usual, therefore he judged that he was

in some embarrassing situation, and that he might, by a little

address, get an advantage over him. But Bussy had had time to

prepare himself, and he was quite ready.

“Yes, let us talk, monseigneur,” replied he.

“The last day I saw you, my poor Bussy, you were very ill.”

“It is true, monseigneur, I was very ill, and it was almost a

miracle that saved me.”

“There was near you a doctor very devoted to you, for he growled

at everyone who approached you.”

“True, prince, Rémy loves me.”

“He kept you rigorously to your bed, did he not?”

“At which I was in a great rage, as your highness might have seen.”

“But, if that were the case, why did you not send the doctor to

the devil, and come out with me as I begged you to do? But as

it was a grave affair, you were afraid to compromise yourself.”

“Did you say I was afraid?”

“I did say so.”

“Well, then, it was a lie!” said Bussy, jumping up from his chair;

“you lied to yourself, monseigneur, for you do not believe a single

word of what you say. There are twenty scars on my body, which

prove the contrary. I never knew fear, and, ma foi, I know people

who cannot say the same.”

“You have always unanswerable arguments, M. de Bussy,” cried the

duke, turning very pale; “when you are accused, you cry louder

than your accuser, and then you think you are right.”

“Oh! I am not always right, I know well, but I know on what occasions

I am wrong.”

“And what are they?”

“When I serve ungrateful people.”

“Really, monsieur, I think you forget yourself,” said the duke,

with some dignity. Bussy moved towards the door, but the prince

stopped him.

“Do you deny, monsieur,” said he, “that after refusing to go out

with me, you went out immediately after?”

“I deny nothing, monseigneur, but I will not be forced to

confession.”

“Tell me why you would not go out with me.”

“I had business.”

“At home?”

“Or elsewhere.”

“I thought that when a gentleman was in the service of a prince,

his principal business was that of the prince.”

“And who does your business generally, monseigneur, if not I?”

“I do not say no; generally I find you faithful and devoted, and,

I will say more, I excuse your bad humor.”

“You are very good.”

“Yes, for you had some reason to be angry.”

“Ah! you confess it.”

“Yes, I promised you the disgrace of M. de Monsoreau. It seems

you hate him very much.”

“I! not at all. I find him very ugly, and should have liked him

away from court, not to have had to look at him. It seems, however,

that you admire him, and there is no accounting for tastes.”

“Well, then, as that was your sole excuse, you were doubly wrong

to refuse to accompany me, and then to go out after, and commit

follies.”

“Follies! what did I do?”

“Doubtless, you do not like MM. d’Epernon and Schomberg, neither

do I, but one must have some prudence. Kill them, and I should

be grateful to you, but do not exasperate them.”

“What did I do to them?”

“Why, you had D’Epernon stoned.”

“I!”

“Yes, so that his clothes were torn to pieces.”

“Good! and what about M. Schomberg?”

“You will not deny that you had him dyed indigo color? When I

saw him three hours after, he was still bright blue. Do you call

that a joke?” And the prince laughed in spite of himself, and

Bussy joined him.

“Then,” said he, “they think it was I who played them these tricks!”

“Perhaps it was I.”

“And you have the conscience to reproach a man who had such fine

ideas.”

“Well, I pardon you. But I have another complaint to make. What

did you do to deliver me from my unlucky situation?”

“You see, I came to Anjou.”

“It seems to me that you would have been more useful nearer.”

“Ah! there we differ; I preferred coming to Anjou.”

“Your caprice is a bad reason.”

“But, if I came to gather your partisans?”

“Ah! that is different. What have you done?”

“I will explain that to you to-morrow; at present I must leave

you.”

“Why!”

“I have to see an important person.”

“Oh, very well; but be prudent.”

“Prudent! are we not the strongest here?”

“Never mind, risk nothing. Have you done much?”

“I have only been here two days.”

“But you keep yourself concealed, I hope.”

“I should think so. Look at my dress; am I in the habit of wearing

cinnamon-colored clothes?”

“And where are you lodging?”

“Ah! I hope you will appreciate my devotion; in a tumble-down

old house, near the ramparts. But you, my prince, how did you

get out of the Louvre? How was it that I found you on the road,

with M. d’Aubigné for a companion?”

“Because I have friends.”

“You! friends!”

“Yes, friends that you do not know.”

“Well, and who are they?”

“The King of Navarre and D’Aubigné, whom you saw.”

“The King of Navarre! Ah! true, did you not conspire together?”

“I never conspired, M. de Bussy.”

“No; ask poor La Mole and Coconnas.”

“La Mole,” said the prince, gloomily, “died for another crime

than the one alleged against him.”

“Well, never mind him. How the devil did you get out of the Louvre?”

“Through the window.”

“Which window?”

“That of my bedroom.”

“Then you knew of the rope-ladder?”

“What rope-ladder?”

“In the cupboard.”

“Ah! it seems you knew it,” cried the prince, turning pale.

“Oh! your highness knows I have sometimes had the happiness of

entering that room.”

“In the time of my sister Margot. Then you came in by the window?”

“As you came out. All that astonishes me is, that you knew of

the ladder.”

“It was not I who found it.”

“Who then?”

“I was told of it.”

“By whom?”

“By the King of Navarre.”

“Ah! the King of Navarre knew of it; I should not have thought

so. However, now you are here safe and sound, we will put Anjou

in flames, and Béarn and Angoumois will catch the light, so we

shall have a fine blaze.”

“But did you not speak of a rendezvous?”

“It is true; the interest of the conversation was making me forget.

Adieu, monseigneur.”

“Do you take your horse?”

“If it will be useful to you, monseigneur, you may keep it, I

have another.”

“Well! I accept; we will settle that later.”

The duke gave Bussy his hand, and they separated.

Chicot the Jester · 第 17 / 58 章