Alexandre Dumas

“ Bussy smiled. “You are a capital companion, St Luc,” said he, “and you may count on my friendship. Now my friendship consists of three things, my purse, my sword, and my life. Now, what about Diana?”
“I wished to ask if you were not coming to Méridor.”
“My dear friend, I thank you, but you know my scruples.”
“I know all. At Méridor you fear to meet Monsoreau, although he is eighty leagues off; fear to have to shake his hand, and it is hard to shake the hand of the man you wish to strangle; you fear to see him embrace Diana, and it is hard to see that of the woman you love.” ”

“ Say no more; you refuse my aid; throw yourself, then, into the arms of the man who has already so well merited your confidence. Adieu, baron; adieu, madame, you will see me no more.”
“Oh!” cried Diana, taking his hand. “Have you seen me waver for an instant; have you ever seen me soften towards him? No. I beg you, on my knees, M. de Bussy, not to abandon me.”
Bussy seized her hands, and all his anger melted away like snow before the sun.
“Then so be it, madame,” said he; “I accept the mission, and in three days—for I must have time to go to Chartres to the prince—you shall see me again.” ”

“ The window was open, and the ladder still hung from it. Henri grew as pale as death.
“Oh, my son, you are not so blasé as I thought!” said Chicot.
“Escaped!” cried Henri, in such a thundering voice that all the gentlemen who were crowded round the window turned in terror. Schomberg tore his hair, Quelus and Maugiron struck themselves like madmen; as for D’Epernon, he had vanished. This sight calmed the king.
“Gently, my son,” said he, laying hold of Maugiron.
“No! mordieu!” cried he, “I will kill myself!” and he knocked his head against the wall. ”

“ Adieu, M. de Bussy.”
Bussy hid his face in his hands. “All is over for me,” he murmured.
“What do you say?” said Diana.
“I say, madame, that this man exiles you, that he takes from me the only hope left to me, that of breathing the same air as yourself, of seeing you sometimes, of touching your dress as you pass. Oh! this man is my mortal enemy, and if I perish for it, I will destroy him with my own hands.”
“Oh! M. le Comte!”
“The wretch; it is not enough for him that you are his wife: you, the most beautiful and most charming of creatures, but he is still jealous. Jealous! ”

“ The Duc d’Anjou was against him; but when one wishes a thing, when one loves, neither prince nor master should keep you back. See, Jeanne, if I loved——”
“Be calm, dear friend.”
“I tell you, we were cowardly.”
“‘We!’ of whom do you speak? That ‘we’ is eloquent, my dearest Diana.”
“I mean my father and I; you did not think anything else, did you? My father is a nobleman—he might have spoken to the king; I am proud, and do not fear a man when I hate him. But he did not love me.”
“You lie to yourself! you know the contrary, little hypocrite!” ”

“ At this instant Livarot, of whom no one was thinking, rose on his knees, hideous from the blood with which he was covered, and plunged his dagger between the shoulders of Maugiron, who fell, crying out, “Mon Dieu! I am killed!”
Livarot fell back again, fainting.
“M. de Quelus,” said Antragues, “you are a brave man; yield—I offer you your life.”
“And why yield?”
“You are wounded, and I am not.”
“Vive le roi!” cried Quelus; “I have still my sword!” And he rushed on Antragues, who parried the thrust, and, seizing his arm, wrested his sword from him, saying, “Now you have it no longer.” ”

“ The moment was favorable, for many wavering conspirators had been encouraged by the kind of triumph which the weakness of the king, and the cunning of Catherine, had given to the duke; however, he no longer confided his projects to Bussy, and showed him only a hypocritical friendship. He was vaguely uneasy at seeing him at Monsoreau’s house, and envious of the confidence that Monsoreau, so suspicious of himself, placed in him. He was frightened also at the joy and happiness which shone in Diana’s face. He knew that flowers only bloom in the light of the sun, and women in that of love. ”

“ I love you! I love you!” murmured Bussy. “Oh! to see you, to press your hand, Diana.”
Suddenly they heard a voice which made them both tremble, Diana with fear, and Bussy with anger.
“Diana!” it cried, “where are you? Answer me.”
“Oh! it is he! I had forgotten him,” said Diana. “Sweet dream, frightful awaking.”
“Listen, Diana; we are together. Say one word, and nothing can separate us more; Diana, let us fly! What prevents us? Before us is happiness and liberty. One word, and we go; one word, and lost to him, you belong to me forever.”
“And my father?” ”

“ Bussy, himself without disquietude or hesitation, had been received by Diana without fear, for she believed herself sure of the absence of M. de Monsoreau. Never had this beautiful woman been more beautiful, nor Bussy more happy. She was moved, however, by fears for the morrow’s combat, now so near, and she repeated to him, again and again, the anxiety she felt about it, and questioned him as to the arrangements he had made for flight. To conquer was not all; there was afterwards the king’s anger to avoid, for it was not probable that he would ever pardon the death or defeat of his favorites. ”

“ Madame de Monsoreau!” cried Antragues; but no one answered.
“Bussy, poor Bussy.”
“Yes, they wished to get rid of the most formidable of us all.”
“It is cowardly! it is infamous!”
“We will tell the duke.”
“No,” said Antragues, “let us not charge any one with the care of our vengeance. Look, my friends, at the noble face of the bravest of men; see his blood, that teaches that he never left his vengeance to any other person. Bussy! we will act like you, and we will avenge you.”
Then, drawing his sword, he dipped it in Bussy’s blood. ”

“ The duke frowned, and Bussy looked thunders. The poor fellow raised his hands to heaven.
“I hear,” continued the count, “that Rémy one day found you dying, as he found me. It is a tie of friendship between us, M. de Bussy, and when Monsoreau loves, he loves well; it is true that when he hates, it is also with all his heart.”
“Come, then,” said the duke, getting off his horse, “deign, beautiful Diana, to do us the honors of the house, which we thought to find in grief, but which we find still the abode of joy. As for you, Monsoreau, rest—you require it.” ”