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Chicot the Jester
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“M. Nicolas David.”
“Oh! you are wrong; he is paid.”
At this moment Bussy entered.
“Monsieur,” said he to the count, “M. le Duc d’Anjou desires to speak with you.”
“With me?”
“With you, monsieur.”
“Do you accompany me?”
“No, I go first, to tell the duke you are coming,” and he rapidly disappeared.
“Well?” said the duke.
“He is coming.”
“And he suspects nothing?”
“Nothing; but if he did, what matter? is he not your creature? Does he seem to you less guilty than he did yesterday?”
“No, a hundred times more so.”
“He has carried off, by treason, a noble young girl, and married her equally treasonably; either he must ask for the dissolution of the marriage himself, or you must do it for him.”
“I have promised.”
“I have your word?”
“You have.”
“Remember that they know and are anxiously waiting.”
“She shall be free, Bussy; I pledge my word.”
Bussy kissed the hand which had signed so many false promises. As he did so, M. de Monsoreau entered, and Bussy went to the corridor, where were several other gentlemen. Here he had to wait as patiently as might be for the result of this interview, on which all his future happiness was at stake. He waited for some time, when suddenly the door of the duke’s room opened, and the sound of M. de Monsoreau’s voice made Bussy tremble, for it sounded almost joyful. Soon the voices approached, and Bussy could see M. de Monsoreau bowing and retiring, and he heard the duke say:
“Adieu, my friend.”
“My friend!” murmured Bussy.
Then Monsoreau said, “Your highness agrees with me that publicity is best?”
“Yes, yes; an end to all mysteries.”
“Then this evening I will present her to the king.”
“Do so; I will prepare him.”
“Gentlemen,” then said Monsoreau, turning towards those in the corridor, “allow me to announce to you a secret; monseigneur permits me to make public my marriage with Mademoiselle Diana de Méridor, who has been my wife for more than a month, and whom I intend this evening to present to the court.”
Bussy, who had been hidden behind a door, staggered, and almost fell at this unexpected blow. However, he darted a glance of contempt at the duke, towards whom he made a step, but he, in terror, shut his door, and Bussy heard the key turn in the lock. Feeling that if he stayed a moment longer he should betray before everyone the violence of his grief, he ran downstairs, got on his horse, and galloped to the Rue St. Antoine. The baron and Diana were eagerly waiting for him, and they saw him enter pale and trembling.
“Madame,” cried he, “hate me, despise me; I believed I could do something and I can do nothing. Madame, you are now the recognized wife of M. de Monsoreau, and are to be presented this evening. I am a fool – a miserable dupe, or rather, as you said, M. le Baron, the duke is a coward and a villain.”
And leaving the father and daughter overcome with grief, he rushed wildly away.
CHAPTER XXXV.
WHAT PASSED BETWEEN M. DE MONSOREAU AND THE DUKE
It is time to explain the duke’s sudden change of intention with regard to M. de Monsoreau. When he first received him, it was with dispositions entirely favorable to Bussy’s wishes.
“Your highness sent for me?” said Monsoreau.
“You have nothing to fear, you who have served me so well, and are so much attached to me. Often you have told me of the plots against me, have aided my enterprises forgetting your own interests, and exposing your life.”
“Your highness – ”
“Even lately, in this last unlucky adventure – ”
“What adventure, monseigneur?”
“This carrying off of Mademoiselle de Méridor – poor young creature!”
“Alas!” murmured Monsoreau.
“You pity her, do you not?” said the duke.
“Does not your highness?”
“I! you know how I have regretted this fatal caprice. And, indeed, it required all my friendship for you, and the remembrance of all your good services, to make me forget that without you I should not have carried off this young girl.”
Monsoreau felt the blow. “Monseigneur,” said he, “your natural goodness leads you to exaggerate, you no more caused the death of this young girl than I did.”
“How so?”
“You did not intend to use violence to Mademoiselle de Méridor.”
“Certainly not.”
“Then the intention absolves you; it is a misfortune, nothing more.”
“And besides,” said the duke, looking at him, “death has buried all in eternal silence.”
The tone of his voice and his look struck Monsoreau. “Monseigneur,” said he, after a moment’s pause, “shall I speak frankly to you?”
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Да, первый рассказ из сборника, что я успела прочитать, что надо! И написано хорошо, и содержание необычное, но жизненное. Очень понравилось, хотя там...
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