“I advise you not to seek for him, monsieur; one has always a little fever after a sword wound; you should know that, who have had a dozen.” “Ah, mon Dieu!” cried Bussy, struck with a new idea, “did my dream begin outside the door instead of inside? Was there no more a staircase and a passage, than there was a bed with white and gold damask, and a portrait? Perhaps those wretches, thinking me dead, carried me to the Temple, to divert suspicion, should any one have seen them hiding. Certainly, it must be so, and I have dreamed the rest. Mon Dieu! if they have procured for me this dream which torments me so, I swear to make an end of them all.” “My dear seigneur,” said the doctor, “if you wish to get well, you must not agitate yourself thus.” “Except St. Luc,” continued Bussy, without attending; “he acted as a friend, and my first visit shall be to him.” “Not before five this evening.” “If you wish it; but, I assure you, it is not going out and seeing people which will make me ill, but staying quietly at home.” “Well, it is possible; you are always a singular patient; act as you please, only I recommend you not to get another wound before this one is healed.” Bussy promised to do his best to avoid it, and, after dressing, called for his litter to take him to the Hôtel Montmorency. CHAPTER IV. HOW MADAME DE ST. LUC HAD PASSED THE NIGHT. Louis de Clermont, commonly called Bussy d’Amboise, was a perfect gentleman, and a very handsome man. Kings and princes had sought for his friendship; queens and princesses had lavished on him their sweetest smiles. He had succeeded La Mole in the affections of Queen Marguerite, who had committed for him so many follies, that even her husband, insensible so long, was moved at them; and the Duke François would never have pardoned him, had it not gained over Bussy to his interests, and once again he sacrificed all to his ambition. But in the midst of all his successes of war, ambition, and intrigue, he had remained insensible; and he who had never known fear, had never either known love. When the servants of M. de St. Luc saw Bussy enter, they ran to tell M. de Brissac. “Is M. de St. Luc at home?” asked Bussy. “No, monsieur.” “Where shall I find him?” “I do not know, monsieur. We are all very anxious about him, for he has not returned since yesterday.” “Nonsense.” “It is true, monsieur.” “But Madame de St. Luc?” “Oh, she is here.” “Tell her I shall be charmed if she will allow me to pay my respects to her.” Five minutes after, the messenger returned, saying Madame de St. Luc would be glad to see M. de Bussy. When Bussy entered the room, Jeanne ran to meet him. She was very pale, and her jet black hair made her look more so; her eyes were red from her sleepless night, and there were traces of tears on her cheeks. “You are welcome, M. de Bussy,” said she, “in spite of the fears your presence awakens.” “What do you mean, madame? how can I cause you fear?”