“I ought to have helped him,” said Bussy, “it is a duty one gentleman owes to another; but, really, Rémy, I was too much occupied with my own affairs.” “But he must have recognized us, for we were our natural color, and it seemed to me that he rolled his eyes frightfully, and shook his fist at us.” “Are you sure of that, Rémy? We must find out who it was; I cannot let such an insult pass.” “Oh!” cried Rémy, “I know now who he was.” “How so?” “I heard him swear.” “I should think so; any one would have sworn in such a situation.” “Yes, but he swore in German.” “Bah!” “Yes, he said, ‘Gott verdomme.’” “Then it was Schomberg?” “Himself, M. le Comte.” “Then, my dear Rémy, get your salves ready.” “Why so, monsieur?” “Because, before long, you will have to apply them either to his skin or to mine.” “You would not be so foolish as to get killed, now you are so well and so happy; St. Marie l’Egyptienne has cured you once, but she will get tired of working miracles for you.” “On the contrary, Rémy, you cannot tell how pleasant it feels to risk your life when you are happy. I assure you I never fought with a good heart when I had lost large sums at play, when things had gone wrong, or when I had anything to reproach myself with; but when my purse is full, my heart light, and my conscience clear, I go boldly to the field, for I am sure of my hand; it is then I am brilliant. I should fight well to-day, Rémy, for, thanks to you,” said he, extending his hand to the young man, “I am very happy.” “Stay a moment, however; you will, I hope, deprive yourself of this pleasure. A beautiful lady of my acquaintance made me swear to keep you safe and sound, under pretext that your life belongs to her.” “Good Rémy!” “You call me good Rémy, because I brought you to see Madame de Monsoreau, but shall you call me so when you are separated from her? and unluckily the day approaches, if it be not come.” “What do you mean?” “Do you not know that she is going to Anjou, and that I myself have the grief of being separated from Gertrude. Ah----” Bussy could not help smiling at the pretended grief of the young man. “You love her, then?” he said. “I should think so; you should see how she beats me.” “And you let her do it?” “Oh! yes.” “But to return to Diana, Rémy; when shall we set off?” “Ah! I expected that. On the latest possible day I should say.” “Why so?” “Firstly, because it seems to me that M. le Duc d’Anjou will want you here.” “After?” “Because M. de Monsoreau, by a special blessing, does not suspect you in the least, and would suspect something immediately if he saw you disappear from Paris at the same time as his wife.” “What do I care for that?” “No; but I care. I charge myself with curing the sword strokes received in duels, for, as you manage your sword well, you never receive very serious ones; but not the blows given secretly by jealous husbands; they are animals, who, in such cases, strike hard.”