La Dame de Monsoreau (62 page)

" Yes ! Yes ! Her hatred rather than her indifference !

" Ah! But to act thus would be base and paltry; to act thus would be to act as a Quelus or a Maugiron would act, if a Quelus or a Maugiron knew how to love. Far better to

resemble that hero of Plutarch whom I have admired so much, that young Antiochus dying of love, yet never telling his love, never uttering a complaint. Yes, I will be silent! Yes, I who have fought hand to hand with the most formidable swordsmen of the age; I who have seen the brave Crillon himself disarmed before me, and who have held his life at my mercy ; yes, I will crush down my sorrow and stifle it in my soul, as did Hercules with the giant Antheus, never allowing him to touch once with his foot, Hope, his mother. No, nothing is impossible to me, Bussy, who, like Crillon, is surnamed ' the brave ;' and all that those heroes have done I will do."

And, after saying these words, he relaxed the convulsive hands with which he was tearing his breast, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and moved slowly toward the door. He was about to strike rudely at the tapestry ; he preached to himself patience and gentleness, and passed out, a smile on his lips, calmness on his brow, a volcano in his heart.

It is true that, meeting the Due d'Anjou on his path, he turned away his head, for he felt that, with all his firmness of soul, he could not go so far as to smile on, and even salute, the prince who had so shamefully betrayed him.

When passing, the prince uttered the name of Bussy, but Bussy ignored him.

Bussy returned home. He placed his sword on. the table, drew his poniard from its sheath, unfastened his cloak and doublet, and sat down in a large armchair, resting his head on the coat of arms that adorned its back.

His attendants saw that he was lost in thought; they believed he wished to rest, and retired.

Bussy did not sleep ; he dreamed.

He spent several hours in this fashion, unwitting that, at the other end of the room, a man, seated like himself, was observing him keenly, without making a single gesture, without uttering a single word, waiting, in all probability, for some excuse to enter into relations with him.

At length an icy shiver shook Bussy's shoulders and gave a wandering look to his eyes; the observer did not move.

Soon the count's teeth chattered, his arms stiffened, his head, growing too heavy, slipped along the back of the chair, and fell upon his shoulder.

Immediately, the man who was examining him rose up with a profound sigh and approached him.

" M. le Comte," said he, " you have a fever."

The count raised his head, empurpled by the fever's heat.

" Ah ! it is you, Remy," said he.

" Yes, count, I was waiting for you here."

" Here, and why ? "

" Because a man does not stay long where he suffers."

" Thanks, my friend," said Bussy, taking the young man's hand.

Remy held in his own hands that terrible hand, now weaker than a child's, and pressed it affectionately and respectfully to his heart.

" Now. M. le Comte," said he, " the question is whether you wish to remain in your present condition or not. Do you desire this fever to gain entire control of you ? Then you may stay up. Do you desire to get the better of it ? Then you must go to bed and have some fine book read to you from which you will draw example and strength."

The count had nothing in the world to do except obey; he obeyed.

It was, therefore, in bed that all his friends who came to see him found him.

During the whole of the following day Remy never left the count's bedside. He exercised a double function, that of physician for the body and that of physician for the soul. For the one he had refreshing drinks j for the other, soft words.

But on the following day, the day on which M. de Guise came to the Louvre, Bussy looked round him ; Remy was not there.

" He is worn out, poor boy ! " thought Bussy, " and it is quite natural in one for whom air, sunlight, the springtime, must be necessities ; and then, doubtless Gertrude was expecting him. Gertrude is only a maid-servant, but she loves him — A maid-servant who loves is higher than a queen who does not love."

The day passed and Remy did not appear. His very absence made Bussy long for his presence; he began to feel angry and impatient.

" Ah ! " he murmured, " and I who still believed in gratitude and friendship ! Henceforth I will believe in nothing."

Toward evening, when the streets were filling up and every sort of rumor was flying around, when the disappearance of daylight rendered it impossible to distinguish objects in his

apartment, Bussy heard loud and numerous voices in the antechamber.

A servant ran in, terrified.

"The Due d'Anjou, monseigneur," said he.

" Show him in," answered Bussy, frowning at the thought that his master should trouble himself about him; that master whom he so thoroughly despised.

The duke entered. Bussy's chamber was unlighted. When hearts are sick they love darkness, for they can people the darkness with phantoms.

" It is too dark here, Bussy," said the duke • " you must find it unpleasant."

Bussy was silent; disgust closed his lips.

" Are you so seriously ill, then," continued the duke, " that you do not answer ? "

" Yes, I am very ill, monseigneur," murmured Bussy.

" That is the reason. I suppose, I have not seen you for the last couple of days ? " said the duke.

" Yes, monseigneur," answered Bussy.

The prince, piqued at these short answers, took two or three turns round the room, looking at the sculptures that stood out in the dim light, and handling the tapestry.

" You are well lodged, at least in my opinion," said the duke.

Bussy made no reply.

" Gentlemen," said the duke to his attendants, " pray remain in the next room; you see my poor Bussy is decidedly ill. But why has not Miron been sent for ? The doctor of a king is not too good for Bussy."

A servant of Bussy shook his head; the duke noticed the movement.

" Come, Bussy, is anything preying on your spirits ? " asked the duke, almost obsequiously.

" I do not know," answered the count.

The prince stole near him, like one of those rebuffed lovers, who, the more he is rebuffed, becomes the more insinuating and caressing.

" Now, now, Bussy, speak to me," said he.

" And what am I to say, monseigneur ? "

" You are angry with me, are you not ?" said the prince, in a low tone.

" I angry ! why ? Besides, it is of no use to be angry with princes. What good could it do ? "

The duke was silent.

" But/' said Bussy, " we are wasting time in preambles. To the point, monseigneur."

The duke looked at Bussy.

" You have need of me, have you not ? " said the latter, harshly.

" Oh, M. de Bussy ! "

"I repeat it, you have need of me, beyond a doubt. Do you fancy I believe your visit prompted by friendship. No, pard/ieu! for you love nobody."

" Oh, Bussy ! you to say such things to me ! "

" Come, let us have an end of it ; speak, monseigneur ; what do you want ? When you happen to serve a prince and this prince practises upon you to the point of even calling you his friend, of course you ought to be grateful to him for his dissimulation and make every sacrifice for his sake, even that of your life. Speak."

The duke blushed ; but it was dark, and no one saw the blush.

"I wanted nothing of you, Bussy," said he, "and you are mistaken if you think my visit interested. I desire only, seeing what fine weather we 're having and that all Paris is out to sign the League, that we might take a little stroll together through the city."

Bussy looked at the duke.

" Have you not Aurilly ? " said he.

" A lute-player ! "

" Ah, monseigneur ! you do not give him all his titles ; I was under the impression he performed other offices for your highness. Moreover, you have ten or twelve other gentlemen whose swords I hear clanking on the floor of my antechamber."

The hangings were raised slowly.

" Who is there ? " asked the duke, haughtily, " and who dares to come into a room in which I happen to be, unannounced ? "

" I, Remy," answered the young man, entering coolly, and showing no embarrassment whatever.

" Who is Remy ? " inquired the prince.

" Remy, monseigneur," replied the young man, " is the doctor."

" Remy," said Bussy, " is more than a doctor, monseigneur, he is a friend,"

" Indeed ! " exclaimed the duke, in a tone of wounded feeling.

" You heard what inonseigneur wishes, did you ?" asked Bussy, preparing to get out of bed.

" Yes, about having a little stroll together, but " —

" But what ? " said the duke.

" But he must not go, inonseigneur," answered Le Haudouin.

" And why so ? " inquired Francois.

" Because it is too cold outside, monseigneur."

" Too cold ? " said the duke, astonished that any one should dare to resist him.

" Yes, too cold, and, consequently, I who am responsible for M. de Bussy to his friends, and particularly to myself, forbid him to go out.' 7

All this, however, would not have prevented Bussy from jumping out of bed had not the hand of Eemy met his in a significant clasp.

" Very well," said the duke. " If he runs so great a risk by going out, he can stay at home."

And his highness, exasperated to the highest degree, took two steps toward the door.

Bussy did not stir.

The duke returned to the bed.

" So," said he, "your mind is made up, you will not run the risk ? "

" You see for yourself, monseigneur," answered Bussy, " the doctor forbids it."

" You ought to see Miroii, Biissy; Miron is a great doctor."

" Monseigneur, I prefer a doctor who is my friend to a doctor who is a great doctor."

" In that case, adieu."

" Adieu, monseigneur."

And the duke went out with a great noise.

As soon as he was gone, Eemy, who had followed him with his eyes until he made sure he had left the hotel, ran up to his patient.

" And now, monseigneur," said he, " you must get up, and that immediately."

« Get up ! Why ? "

" To take a walk with me. It's too warm in this room."

" But you said awhile ago to the duke that it was too cold outside ! "

" The temperature has changed since he left,"

" So that " - said Bussy, sitting up and looking at him inquisitively.

" So that at present," answered Remy, " I am convinced the air would do you good."

" I do not understand," said Bussy.

" Do you understand anything about the potions I am giving you ? That does not prevent you swallowing them, however. Come, come, up with you at once. A walk with the Due d'Anjou was dangerous ; with the doctor it will be beneficial, and ,the doctor himself tells you so. Have you lost confidence in me ? Then you had better send me away."

" All right," said Bussy, " since you wish it."

" I require it."

Bussy rose, pale and trembling.

" What an interesting paleness ! " said Remy, " what a handsome invalid!"

" But where are we going ? "

" To a quarter the air of which I analyzed this very day, even."

" And this air ? "

" Is sovereign for your disease, monseigneur."

Buss}^ dressed.

" My hat and sword," he said.

He donned the one and belted on the other.

Then the two passed out.

CHAPTER XLIII.

ETYMOLOGY OF THE RUE DE LA JUSSIENNE.

REMY took his patient by the arm, turned to the left, entered the Rue Coquilliere, and followed it as far as the rampart.

" It is strange," said Bussy, " you are leading me in the direction of the marsh of the Grange-Bateliere ; do you think that quarter to be healthful ? "

" Oh, monsieur, a little patience," said Remy; " we are going to turn round by the Rue Pagevin, leave on our right the Rue Breneuse, and enter the Rue Montmartre ; you have no idea what a fine street is the Rue Montmartre,"

" Do you imagine I am not well acquainted with it ? "

" Oh, if you are acquainted with it, so much the better. I shan't have to waste my time pointing out its beauties, and, instead, I '11 lead you at once into another pretty little street. So come along, that's all I have to say to you."

And, in fact, after leaving the Pont Montmartre on their left and walking about two hundred paces in the street, Remy turned to the right.

" Why," cried Bussy, " you seem to have made up your mind to return to the point from which we started."

" This," answered Remy, " is the Rue de la Gypecienne, or Egyptienne, just as you wish, a street the people are already beginning to call ' Rue de la Gysienne,' and which they will call before long ' Rue de la Jussienne,' because it is softer, and the tendency of languages, the further you advance southward, is to multiply vowels. Surely you, who have been in Poland, monseigneur, ought to be aware of this. You know the rascals never boggle at their four successive consonants, so that, when they speak, you fancy they are crunching pebbles and swearing while they 're crunching them."

" What you say is right enough," said Bussy; " but as I can hardly believe you have brought me here to lecture me on philology, tell me, in the name of goodness, where are we going ? "

" Do you see yon little church ?" was Remy's sole answer. " Do you notice what a stately air it has, monseigneur, Avith its front on the street, and its apsis on the garden of the community ? I would be ready to wager that you never remarked it before."

" In good truth," said Bussy, " I don't know that I did."

And Bussy was not the only great lord who had never entered this church of Sainte Marie 1'Egyptienne, a church much loved by the common people, and also known among them as the Chapelle Quoqheron.