The Watchers.

The duke kept Bussy near him all day, so as not to lose sight of his movements. Bussy did not care, so that he had his evenings free. At ten o’clock he wrapped himself in his cloak, and with a rope ladder under his arm went towards the Bastile. The duke, who did not know that he had a ladder, and could not believe in any one walking alone at night through the streets of Paris, thought Bussy would certainly call at his hotel for a horse and a servant, and lost ten minutes in preparations. During those ten minutes, Bussy, active and in love, had already gone three-fourths of the distance. He was lucky, as brave people generally are, and met with no accident by the way, and on arriving saw a light in the windows. It was the signal agreed on between him and Diana. He threw his ladder up to the balcony, it had six hooks to it, and was sure to fasten itself somewhere. At the noise, Diana put out her light and opened the window to fasten the ladder. The thing was done in a moment. Diana looked all around; the street seemed deserted. Then she signed to Bussy to mount, and he was up in five seconds. The moment was happily chosen, for while he got in at the window, M. de Monsoreau, after having listened patiently fur a quarter of an hour at his wife’s door, descended the stairs painfully, leaning on the arm of a confidential valet, and it so happened that he opened the street-door just as the ladder was drawn up, and the window closed. He looked around, but the streets were deserted.

“You have been badly informed,” said he to the servant.

“No, monsieur, I have just left the H?tel d’Anjou, and they told me that the duke had ordered two horses for this evening. But perhaps it was not to come here.”

“Where else should he go?” said Monsoreau, with a somber air. He, like all jealous persons, thought the whole world had nothing to do but to torment him.

“Perhaps I should have done better to stay in her room,” murmured he. “But they probably have signals for corresponding; she would have warned him of my presence, and I should have learned nothing. It is better to watch outside. Come, conduct me to the hiding-place, whence you say one can see everything.”

“Come, monsieur.”

About twenty-five steps from the door was an enormous heap of stones belonging to demolished houses, and serving for fortifications to the children of the neighborhood when they played at battles. In the midst was a space, which could contain two people. The valet spread a cloak, on which Monsoreau sat down, while his servant sat at his feet, with a loaded musket placed beside him. Diana had prudently drawn her thick curtains, so that scarcely a ray of light showed through, to betray that there was life in this gloomy house.

They had been watching about ten minutes, when two horses appeared at the end of the street. The valet pointed to them.

“I see,” said Monsoreau.

The two men got off their horses, and tied them up at the corner of the H?tel des Tournelles.

“Monseigneur,” said Aurilly, “I believe we have arrived too late; he must have gone straight from your hotel and must have entered.”

“Perhaps so; but if we did not see him go in, we can see him come out.”

“Yes, but when?”

“When we please.”

“Would it be too curious to ask how you mean to manage?”

“Nothing is more easy; we have but to knock at the door, and ask after M. de Monsoreau. Our lover will be frightened at the noise, and as you enter the house he will come out at the window, and I, who am hidden outside, shall see him.”

“And Monsoreau?”

“What can he say? I am his friend, and was uneasy about him, as he looked so ill yesterday; nothing can be more simple.”

“It is very ingenious, monseigneur.”

“Do you hear what they say?” asked Monsoreau of his valet.

“No, monsieur, but we soon shall, for they are coming nearer.”

“Monseigneur,” said Aurilly, “here is a heap of stones which seems made on purpose for us.”

“Yes, but wait a moment, perhaps we can see through the opening of the curtain.” And they stood for some minutes trying to find a place to peep through. Meanwhile, Monsoreau was boiling with impatience, and his hand approached the musket.

“Oh! shall I suffer this?” murmured he, “shall I devour this affront also? No, my patience is worn out. Mordieu! that I can neither sleep, nor wake, nor even suffer quietly, because a shameful caprice has lodged in the idle brain of this miserable prince. No, I am not a complaisant valet; I am the Comte............