When they were in the hotel the duke said, “Now sit down and tell me all; I feared you were dead.” “Very likely, monseigneur.” “You left me to look after my beautiful unknown. Who is this woman, and what am I to expect?” “You will reap what you have sown, monseigneur--plenty of shame.” “What do you mean?” cried the duke. “What I said.” “Explain yourself, monsieur; who is this woman?” “I thought you had recognized her.” “Then it was her?” “Yes, monseigneur.” “You saw her?” “Yes.” “And she spoke to you?” “Certainly. Doubtless you had reason to think her dead, and you perhaps hoped she was so.” The duke grew pale. “Yes, monseigneur,” continued Bussy, “although you pushed to despair a young girl of noble race, she escaped from death; but do not breathe yet, do not think yourself absolved, for, in preserving her life, she found a misfortune worse than death.” “What is it? what has happened to her?” “Monseigneur, a man preserved her honor and saved her life, but he made her pay for this service so dearly that she regrets his having rendered it.” “Finish.” “Well, monseigneur, Mademoiselle de Méridor, to escape becoming the mistress of the Duc d’Anjou, has thrown herself into the arms of a man whom she detests, and is now Madame de Monsoreau.” At these words the blood rushed furiously into the duke’s face. “Is this true?” said he. “Pardieu! I said it,” said Bussy, haughtily. “I did not mean that; I did not doubt your word, Bussy, I wondered only if it were possible that one of my gentlemen had had the audacity to interfere between me and a woman whom I honored with my love.” “And why not?” “Then you would have done so?” “I would have done better; I would have warned you that your honor was being lost.” “Listen, Bussy,” said the prince, becoming calmer, “I do not justify myself, but M. de Monsoreau has been a traitor towards me.” “Towards you?” “Yes, he knew my intentions.” “And they were?” “To try and make Diana love me.” “Love you!” “Yes, but in no case to use violence.” “Those were your intentions?” said Bussy, with an ironical smile. “Certainly, and these intentions I preserved to the last, although M. de Monsoreau constantly combated them.” “Monseigneur, what do you say! This man incited you to dishonor Diana?” “Yes.” “By his counsels?” “By his letters. Would you like to see them?” “Oh! if I could believe that!” “You shall see.” And the duke, opening a little cabinet, and taking out a letter, said, “Since you doubt your prince’s words, read.” Bussy took it and read,-- “MONSEIGNEUR, “Be quite easy; the coup-de-main can be executed without risk, for the young person sets off this evening to pass a week with an aunt who lives at the château of Lude. I charge myself with it, and you need take no trouble as for the scruples of the young lady, be sure that they will vanish in the presence of your highness: meanwhile I act; and this evening she will be at the château of Beaugé.