In what Respect M. De St. Luc was More Civilized than M. De Bussy, the Lessons which he Gave Him, and the Use which M. De Bussy Made of Them.

St. Luc returned, proud of having executed his commission so well. Bussy thanked him, but looked sad, which was not natural to him.

“Have I done badly?” said St. Luc.

“Ma foi, my dear friend, I only regret you did not say, ‘at once.’”

“Why! what is the hurry?”

“I wish to die as soon as possible.”

St. Luc looked at him in astonishment.

“Die! at your age, with your name, and Diana!”

“Yes, I shall kill them, I know, but I shall receive some good blow which will tranquilize me forever.”

“What black ideas, Bussy!”

“A husband whom I thought dead, and who has returned to life; a wife who can scarcely quit the bedside of the pretended dying man. Not to see her, smile on her, touch her hand. Mon Dieu! ——”

St. Luc interrupted him with a burst of laughter. “Oh!” cried he, “the innocent man. Why, no lover can be more fortunate than you.”

“Prove that to me.”

“You are the friend of M. de Monsoreau.”

“Yes, I am ashamed to say, he calls me his friend.”

“Well! be his friend.”

“Oh! and abuse this title!”

“Is he really your friend?”

“He says so.”

“No; for he makes you unhappy. Now the end of friendship is to make one another happy. At least, so his majesty says, and he is learned in friendship. So, if he makes you unhappy, he is not your friend; therefore you may treat him either as a stranger, and take his wife from him, or as an enemy, and kill him if he murmurs.”

“In fact, I hate him. But do you, not think he loves me?”

“Diable! Take away his wife and see.”

“I must continue to be a man of honor.”

“And let Madame de Monsoreau cure her husband both physically and morally. For it is certain that if you get yourself killed, she will attach herself to the only man who remains to her.”

Bussy frowned.

“But,” added St. Luc, “here is my wife; she always gives good advice. She has been picking herself a bouquet in the gardens of the queen-mother, and will be in a good humor. Listen to her; she speaks gold.”

Jeanne arrived radiant, full of happiness and fun. Bussy saluted her in a friendly manner, and she held out her hand to him, saying, with a smile, “How go on the love affairs?”

“They are dying.”

“They are wounded and fainting; perhaps you can restore them, Jeanne?”

“Let me see; show me the wound.”

“In two words, this is it: M. de Bussy does not like smiling on M. de Monsoreau, and he thinks of retiring.”

“A............