La Dame de Monsoreau (40 page)

" My poor Remy," said Bussy, " you are pretty sure I appreciate your devotion, are you not ? "

" Well, after all, I am not so much to be pitied, monseigneur," answered Le Haudouin. " Gertrude is a fine slip of a girl, just two inches taller than myself, and able to lift me from the ground by the collar of my coat with her own two hands, which phenomenon finds its explanation in the extraordinary development of the muscles of her biceps and her deltoid. All this has inspired me with a veneration for the maiden which flatters her, and, as I am always of her opinion, we never quarrel. Then she has a priceless talent " —

" What is it, my poor Remy ? "

" She has marvellous skill in narrative."

" Ah ! you don't say so ? "

" Yes, indeed; and so, through her, I know all that passes in the house of her mistress. Ha ! what do you say to that ? It struck me you might not be displeased to have the means of learning what was going on there."

" Le Haudouin, you are the good genius whom chance, or rather Providence, has thrown in my way. Then you and Gertrude are on terms of "

" Puella me diligit" replied Remy, strutting about with an air of affected dandyism.

" And you are received in the house."

" Last night, at twelve, I effected my first entrance, on tiptoe, by the famous wicket door you know of."

" And how did you win this happiness ? "

" Oh, in the most natural way. I suppose I ought to tell you."

« Yes, do."

" Two days after you left, and on the next morning after I took possession of my little room, I stood at the door, waiting for the lady of my future thoughts to go a-marketing, which, I was aware, happened every day between eight and nine. At ten minutes past eight exactly, she made her appearance ; whereupon, I descended from my observatory and hastened to place myself on her path."

" And she recognized you ? "

" I should say she did : she gave a scream and fled ! "

« And then ? "

" Then I ran after her, and came up with her. I had to put my best leg foremost, though; she "s a fast racer. But, luckily, a petticoat is sometimes embarrassing.

" < Good God ! ' she cried.

" * Holy Virgin ! ' I shouted.

" My exclamation gave her a good opinion of me ; a person of less piety would have cried: ' Morbleu ! ' or ' Corbceuf! '

" * The doctor !' she said.

" * The charming housekeeper ! ' I answered.

" She smiled, but recovering herself —

" ' You are mistaken, monsieur,' said she, ' I do not know you.'

" ' But, alas ! ' I returned, ' I know you, and, for the last

three days I live, I exist but for you. To such a degree do I adore you that I no longer dwell in the Rue Beautreillis, and I am now in the Eue Saint-An toine, comer of the Rue Saint-Catherine, having changed my lodgings solely in the hope of seeing you come out and go in. Should you again need my services in dressing the wounds of handsome young gentlemen you must look for me at my new residence and not at the old one.'

" ' Hush !' she said.

" ' Ah, you see you know me !' I answered.

" And that is how our acquaintance was made, or rather, renewed."

" So that now you are " —

" As happy as a lover can be — with Gertrude, you understand ; everything is relative. But I am more than happy, I am simply in ecstasies at the thought that I have succeeded in doing for you what I proposed doing."

" But will she not suspect ? "

" No, I have not even spoken of you. Now, is it a likely thing that such a poor creature as Remy le Haudouin should be acquainted with noble lords like the Seigneur de Bussy ? No, all I did was to ask her once, in an offhand way : * Is your young master better ?'

" ' What young master ? ' she said.

" ' The gentleman I attended in your house ?'

" ' He is not my young master,' she answered.

" ' Oh, as he was in your mistress's bed, I thought' —

" ' Mercy on us ! no ; poor young man !' she sighed, l he was* nothing to us at all, and we have only seen him once since.'

" ' Then you do not know his name ? ' I inquired.

" ' Oh, yes, we do, indeed !'

" ' You might have known and forgotten it ?'

" l It is not one of those names you forget.'

" < Why, what is it, then ? '

" f Have you ever heard of the Seigneur de Bussy ? '

" * I should think so ! Bussy, so it was the brave Bussy ? '

" < Yes, it was he.'

" ' Hum ! and the lady ? '

" ' My mistress is married, monsieur.'

" ' Oh, a woman may be married and may be faithful, yet think, now and then, of some handsome young man she has

seen — were it but for a moment, especially when that handsome young man was wounded, interesting, and lying in our bed.'

" ' Well, to be frank with you/ answered Gertrude, < I will not say my mistress does not think of him.' '

Bussy's face flushed all over.

" ' We even talk about him,' added Gertrude, < whenever we are alone.' ' :

" Excellent girl ! " cried the count.

" < And what do you say of him,' I asked.

" * I speak of his feats of valor, and that is not difficult, since nothing is talked about in Paris but the sword thrusts he gives and receives. I even taught my mistress a little song concerning him which is all the rage at present.'

" < Ah, I know it,' I answered, ' does it not run thus ? -

" ' " As a picker of quarrels

D'Amboise has won laurels Yet — give Bussy his due — He is tender and true ! " '

" t The way it runs, exactly ! ' exclaimed Gertrude. ' Well ! my mistress sings nothing else now.' "

Bussy wrung, the young doctor's hand; an ineffable thrill of happiness coursed through his veins.

" Is that all ? " he asked, so insatiable is man in his desires.

" That is all, monseigneur. Oh, I '11 learn more later on ; but, confound it! one can't learn everything in a day — or rather, in a night."

CHAPTER XXV.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

REMY'S report made Bussy very happy ; and naturally, for it told him two things : M. de Monsoreau was as much hated as ever, and he, Bussy, was already better liked than formerly.

And then, the friendship of this young man for him was a joy to his heart. Our entire being expands under the influence of heaven-born sentiments, and our intellectual powers acquire a twofold strength. We feel we are happy, because we feel we are good.

Bussy saw that there was no time to be lost now, and that every pang which rended the old man's heart was almost a sacrilege. There is such an inversion of the laws of nature in the tears of a father for a daughter's death, that he who could console that father with a word, yet withholds that word, deserves the curse of every father.

On descending into the court, M. de Meridor found a fresh horse which Bussy had ordered to be got ready for him. Another horse was waiting for Bussy ; both of them were soon in the saddle, and set out, followed by Remy.

They turned into the Rue Saint-Antoine, their progress being a- source of ever-increasing astonishment to M. de Meridor. The worthy nobleman had not been in Paris for twenty years, and what with the noise of horses and the cries of lackeys and the passage of coaches, all in greater numbers than he had ever had any experience of before, he found Paris very much changed since Henri II's. time.

But in spite of his astonishment, which bordered closely on admiration, the baron did not feel the less sad. and his sadness increased as he approached the unknown goal of his journey. How would the duke receive him, and would this interview be but the precursor of new sorrows ?

Then, as he glanced at Bussy from time to time, he wondered what strange hallucination had forced him to follow blindly the servant of a prince to whom he owed all his misfortunes. Would it not have been more consistent with his dignity to have braved the Due d'Anjou, and instead of accompanying Bussy wherever the latter chose to lead him, to have gone straight to the Louvre and thrown himself at the feet of the King? What could the prince say to him ? What consolation could he give him ? Was he not one of those who try to assuage with the balsam of honeyed words the pain of the wounds they have made, wounds that bleed with a sharper agony when the sufferer is outside their presence ?

In this way they reached the Rue Saint-Paul. Bussy, like a prudent captain, sent Remy in advance with orders to reconnoitre the approaches and lay plans for entering the fortress.

Remy, after seeing Gertrude, returned with the intelligence that there was no sign of the enemy either in the alley or on the staircase or corridor that led to Madame de Monsoreau's chamber.

All these consultations, as will be easily understood, were held in a low voice between Bussy and Le Haudouin.

During this time the baron was looking in amazement around him.

" Is it possible," he wondered, " that the Due d'Anjou can lodge in such a place as this ?"

And the shabby appearance of the house inspired him with a feeling of distrust.

" No, monseigneur," answered Bussy, with a smile, " but though it is not his residence, it is that of a lady he has loved."

The old gentleman's brow became clouded.

" Monsieur," he said, halting, " we provincials are not used to things of this sort, the easy morals of Paris frighten us, and we do not feel at all comfortable in presence of your mysteries. If the Due d'Anjou desires to meet the Baron de Meridor, he must meet him in his palace and not in the house of one of his mistresses. And then," added the old man, with a heavy sigh, " why do you, who seem an honest man, attempt to confront me with one of his women ? Is it for the purpose of assuring me that my poor Diane would be alive still, if, like the mistress of yonder abode, she had preferred shame to

death ? "

" Come, come, M. le Baron," said Bussy, with that frank, loyal smile which had been his best auxiliary in gaining an influence over the old man, " do not hazard false conjectures. I pledge you my honor as a gentleman. You are altogether mistaken in your surmises. The lady you are about to see is a perfectly virtuous lady, who is worthy of all your respect."

« But who is she ? "

" She is — the wife of a gentleman with whom you are acquainted."

" Really ? But why do you say the prince has loved her ? "

" Because I always say the truth, M. le Baron ; enter and you will see for yourself whether I have accomplished what I promised you."

u Take care, I was weeping for my darling child, and you said : ' Be consoled, monsieur, the mercies of God are great;' to promise that I should be consoled was almost to promise a miracle."

" Enter, monsieur," repeated Bussy, with the smile that always fascinated the old gentleman.

The baron dismounted.

Gertrude had run to the door and stood open-mouthed on the threshold. She stared in dismay at Remy, Bussy, and the old man, utterly unable to understand how Providence had contrived to bring these three men together.

" Inform Madame de Monsoreau," said the count, " that M. de Bussy has returned and desires to speak to her immediately. But, for your life," he whispered, " do not say a word of the person who is with me."

" Madame.de Monsoreau! " said the baron, astounded, " Madame de Monsoreau!

" Enter, M. le Baron," said Bussy, pushing him into the alley.

Then, as the old man climbed the stairs with tottering steps, was heard the voice of Diane, who was answering in tones that trembled strangely:

" M. de Bussy, you say, Gertrude ? M. de Bussy ? Very well, show him in."

" That voice! " cried the baron, suddenly stopping in the middle of the stairs. " That voice ! Great God ! "

" Go on, M. le Baron," said Bussy.

But at that very moment, just as the baron was clinging to the banisters and looking around him, at the head of the stairs, in the dazzling sheen of a golden sunlight, appeared Diane, more beautiful than ever, with a smile on her lips, although she little expected to see her father.

At this sight, which he took for some magic vision, the old man uttered a terrible cry, and with arms outstretched, with haggard eyes, he presented such a perfect image of horror and delirium that Diane, who was ready to fall upon his neck, paused in wonder and dismay.

The old man's hand, as he extended it, came in contact with Bussy's shoulder, and he leaned on it.

" Diane alive!" he murmured. " Diane, my own Diane, whom I thought dead. O God ! O God !"

And this robust warrior, — this doughty hero of foreign and civil wars, from which he had almost escaped unscathed, — this aged oak left standing by the lightning-stroke of Diane's death, — this athlete who had wrestled so energetically with sorrow, — was crushed, broken, annihilated by joy ; his knees sank under him, he was falling backwards, and but for Bussy would have been hurled to the bottom of the staircase, and all

because of the sight of that beloved image that shone, blurred and confused, before his eyes.

" Good heavens ! M. de Bussy," cried Diane, hurrying down the steps that separated her from her father, " what is the matter with my father ? "

And the young woman, terrified by his livid aspect and the strange effect produced by a meeting for which she thought they had both been prepared, questioned with her eyes even more than with her voice.

" M. de Meridor believed you dead, and he wept for you, madame, as such a father should weep for such a daughter."

" What! " cried Diane, " and did no one undeceive him ? "

" No one."

" Oh, no one, no one ! " cried the old man, awakening from his passing stupor, " no one, not even M. de Bussy."