“Whence do you come?”
“From the environs. Is your highness content? have you had a numerous assemblage?”
“Yes, I am pretty well satisfied, but I missed some one.”
“Who?”
“Your protege, the Baron de Méridor.”
Bussy changed color.
“And yet we must not neglect him,” continued the duke, “he is influential here.”
“You think so?”
“I am sure of it. He was the correspondent of the League at Angers, chosen by M. de Guise, and the Guises choose their men well. He must come, Bussy.”
“But if he does not come?”
“I will go to him.”
“To Méridor?”
“Why not?”
“Oh, why not, certainly,” cried Bussy, with flashing eyes, “a prince may do anything.”
“Then you think he is still angry with me?”
“How should I know?”
“You have not seen him?”
“No.”
“As one of the great men of the province, I thought – ”
“I was not sufficiently fortunate in the former promises I made him to be in a hurry to present myself to him.”
“Has he not attained his object?”
“How so?”
“He wanted his daughter to marry the count, and she has done so.”
Bussy turned his back on the duke, who, at the same moment, moved towards another gentleman who entered the room. Bussy began to reflect on what the duke’s projects were with regard to the baron – whether they were purely political, or whether he was still seeking to approach Diana; but he imagined that, embroiled with his brother, banished from the Louvre, and the chief of provincial insurrection, he had sufficiently grave interests at stake to outweigh his love fancies. He passed the night banqueting with the duke and the Angevin gentlemen, then in dancing with the Angevin ladies. It is needless to say that he was the admiration of the latter, and the hatred of the husbands, several of whom looked at him in a way which did not please him, so that, curling his mustachios, he invited three or four of them to take a walk with him by moonlight; but his reputation had preceded him, and they all declined.
At the door Bussy found a laughing face waiting for him, which he believed to be eighty leagues off.
“Ah,” cried he joyfully, “it is you, Rémy.”
“Yes monsieur.”
“I was going to write to you to join me.”
“Really!”
“On my word.”
“That is capital; I was afraid you would scold me.”
“For what?”
“For coming without leave. But I heard that Monsieur le Duc d’Anjou had escaped, and had fled 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, Rémy; 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.
“Here is my palace; you must lodge as you can.”
“It will not be difficult; I could sleep standing, I am so tired.”
Bussy rose early the next morning, and went to the ducal palace, leaving word for Rémy to follow him. The duke had prepared a list of important things to be done: firstly, a walk round the walls to examine the fortifications; secondly, a review of the inhabitants and their arms; thirdly, a visit to the arsenal; fourthly, correspondence.
“Ah!” cried the duke, “you already!”
“Ma foi! yes, monseigneur; I could not sleep, your highness’s interests were so much on my mind. What shall we do this morning? Shall we hunt?”
“How!” said the duke, “you pretend to have been thinking all night of my interests, and the result of so much meditation is to propose to me a hunt!”
“True,” said Bussy; “besides, we have no hounds.”
“And no chief huntsman.”
“Ah, ma foi! the chase would be more agreeable without him.”
“Ah, I am not like you – I want him; he would have been very useful to us here.”
“How so?”