The Assassination.

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.

“And then,” said she, “are you not acknowledged to be the bravest man in France? Why make it a point of honor to augment your glory? You are already superior to other men, and you do not wish to please any other woman but me, Louis. Therefore, guard your life, or rather — for I think there is not a man in France capable of killing you, Louis — I should say, take care of wounds, for you may be wounded. Indeed, it was through a wound received in fighting with these same men, that I first made your acquaintance.”

“Make yourself easy,” said Bussy, smiling; “I will take care of my face — I shall not be disfigured.”

“Oh, take care of yourself altogether. Think of the grief you would experience if you saw me brought home wounded and bleeding, and that I should feel the same grief on seeing your blood. Be prudent, my too courageous hero — that is all I ask. Act like the Roman of whom you read to me the other day: let your friends fight, aid the one who needs it most, but if three men — if two men attack you, fly; you can turn, like Horatius, and kill them one after another.”

“Yes, my dear Diana.”

“Oh, you reply without hearing me, Louis; you look at me, and do not listen.”

“But I see you, and you are beautiful.”

“Do not think of my beauty just now! Mon Dieu! it is your life I am speaking of. Stay, I will tell you something that will make you more prudent — I shall have the courage to witness this duel.”

“You!”

“I shall be there.”

“Impossible, Diana!”

“No; listen. There is, in the room next to this, a window looking into a little court, but with a side-view of the Tournelles.”

“Yes, I remember — the window from which I threw crumbs to the birds the other day.”

“From there I can have a view of the ground; therefore, above all things, take care to stand so that I can see you; you will know that I am there, but do not look at me, lest your enemy should profit by it.”

“And kill me, while I had my eyes fixed upon you. If I had to choose my death, Diana, that is the one I should prefer.”

“Yes; but now you are not to die, but live.”

“And I will live; therefore tranquilize yourself, Diana. Besides, I am well seconded — you do not know my friends; Antragues uses his sword as well as I do, Ribeirac is so steady on the ground that his eyes and his arms alone seem to be alive, and Livarot is as active as a tiger. Believe me, Diana, I wish there were more danger, for there would be more honor.”

“Well, I believe you, and I smile and hope; but listen, and promise to obey me.”

“Yes, if you do not tell me to leave.”

“It is just what I am about to do. I appeal to your reason.”

“Then you should not have made me mad.”

“No nonsense, but obedience — that is the way to prove your love.”

“Order, then.”

“Dear friend, you want a long sleep; go home.”

“Not already.”

“Yes, I am going to pray for you.”

“Pray now, then.”

As he spoke, a pane of the window flew into pieces, then the window itself, and three armed men appeared on the balcony while a fourth was climbing over. This one had his face covered with a mask, and held in his right hand a sword, and in his left a pistol.

Bussy remained paralyzed for a moment by the dreadful cry uttered by Diana at this sight. The masked man made a sign, and the three others advanced. Bussy put Diana back, and drew his sword.

“Come, my brave fellows!” said a sepulchral voice from under the mask; “he is already half-dead with fear.”

“You are wrong,” said Bussy; “I never feel fear.”

Diana drew near him.

“Go back, Diana,” said he. But she threw herself on his neck. “You will get me killed,” said he; and she drew back.

“Ah!” said the masked man, “it is M. de Bussy, and I would not believe it, fool that I was! Really, what a good and excellent friend! He learns that the husband is absent, and has left his wife alone, and fears she may be afraid, so he comes to keep her company, although on the eve of a duel. I repeat, he is a good and excellent friend!”

“Ah! it is you, M. de Monsoreau!” said Bussy; “throw off your mask.”

“I will,” said he, doing so.

Diana uttered another cry; the comte was as pale as a corpse, but he smiled like a demon.

“Let us finish, monsieur,” said Bussy; “it was very well for Homer’s heroes, who were demigods, to talk before they fought; but I am a man — attack me, or let me pass.”

Monsoreau replied by a laugh which made Diana shudder, but raised Bussy’s anger.

“Let me pass!” cried he.

“Oh, oh!”

“Then, draw and have done; I wish to go home and I live far off.”

During this time two other men mounted into the balcony.

“Two and four make six,” said Bussy, “where are the others?”

“Waiting at the door.”

Diana fell on her knees, and in spite of her efforts Bussy heard her sobs.

“My dear comte,” said he, “you know I am a man of honor.”

“Yes, you are, and madame is a faithful wife.”

“Good, monsieur; you are severe, but, perhaps, it is deserved; only as I have a prior engagement with four gentlemen, I beg to be allowed to retire to-night, and I pledge my word, you shall find me again, when and where you will.”

Monsoreau shrugged his shoulders.

“I swear to you, monsieur,” said Bussy, “that when I have satisfied MM. Quelus, Schomberg, D’Epernon, and Maugiron, I shall be at your service. If they kill me, your vengeance will be satisfied, and if not ——”

Monsoreau turned to his men. “On, my brave fellows,” said he.

“Oh!” said Bussy, “I was wrong; it is not a duel, but an assassination.”

“Yes.”

“We were each deceived with regard to the other; but remember, monsieur, that the Duc d’Anjou will avenge me.”

“It was he who sent me.”

Diana groaned.

Instantaneously Bussy overturned the prie-Dieu, drew a table towards him, and threw a chair over all, so that in a second he had formed a kind of rampart between himself and his enemies. This movement had been so rapid, that the ball fired at him from the arquebuse only struck the prie-Dieu. Diana sobbed aloud. Bussy glanced at her, and then at his assailants, crying, “Come on, but take care, for my sword is sharp.”

The men advanced, and one tried to seize the prie-Dieu, but before he reached it, Bussy’s sword pierced his arm. The man uttered a cry, and fell back.

Bussy then heard rapid steps in the corridor, and thought he was surrounded. He flew to the door to lock it, but before he could reach it, it was opened, and two men rushed in.

“Ah! dear master!” cried a well-known voice, “are we in time?”

“Rémy!”

“And I?” cried a second voice, “it seems they are attempting assassination here.”

“St. Luc!” cried Bussy, joyfully. “Ah! M. de Monsoreau, I think now you will do well to let us pass, for if you do not, we will pass over you.”

“Three more men,” cried Monsoreau. And they saw three new assailants appear on the balcony.

“They are an army,” cried St. Luc.

“Oh! God protect him!” cried Diana.

“Wretch!” cried Monsoreau, and he advanced to strike her. Bussy saw the movement. Agile as a tiger, he bounded on him, and touched him in the throat; but the distance was too great, it was only a scratch. Five or six men rushed on Bussy, but one fell beneath the sword of St. Luc.

“Rémy!” cried Bussy, “carry away Diana.”

Monsoreau uttered a yell and snatched a pistol from one of the men.

Rémy hesitated. “But you?” said he.

“Away! away! I confide her to you.”

“Come, madame,” said Rémy.

“Never! I will never leave him.”

Rémy seized her in his arms.

“Bussy, help me! Bussy!” cried Diana. For any one who separated her from Bussy, seemed an enemy to her.

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