“When they wish it, you mean,” said the duke, seeking a sign of approbation from Bussy for his boldness. “But I wish it, my son, and am willing to make any sacrifices to attain peace.” “Oh!” “Yes, my dear child. What do you ask?--what do you demand? Speak.” “Oh, my mother!” said François, almost embarrassed at his own easy victory. “Listen, my son. You do not wish to drown the kingdom in blood--it is not possible; you are neither a bad Frenchman nor a bad brother.” “My brother insulted me, madame, and I owe him nothing, either as my brother or king.” “But I, François--you cannot complain of me?” “Yes, madame, you abandoned me.” “Ah! you wish to kill me. Well, a mother does not care to live to see her children murder each other!” cried Catherine, who wished very much to live. “Oh, do not say that, madame, you tear my heart!” cried François, whose heart was not torn at all. Catherine burst into tears. The duke took her hands, and tried to reassure her, not without uneasy glances towards the tapestry. “But what do you want or ask for, mother? I will listen,” said he. “I wish you to return to Paris, dear child, to return to your brother’s court, who will receive you with open arms.” “No, madame, it is not he whose arms are open to receive me--it is the Bastile.” “No; return, and on my honor, on my love as a mother, I solemnly swear that you shall be received by the king as though you were king and he the Duc d’Anjou.” The duke looked to the tapestry. “Accept, my son; you will have honors, guards.” “Oh, madame, your son gave me guards--his four minions!” “Do not reply so; you shall choose your own guards, and M. de. Bussy shall be their captain, if you like.” Again the duke glanced to the wall, and, to his surprise, saw Bussy smiling and applauding by every possible method. “What is the meaning of this change?” thought the duke; “is it that he may be captain of my guards? Then must I accept?” said he aloud, as though talking to himself. “Yes, yes!” signed Bussy, with head and hands. “Quit Anjou, and return to Paris?” “Yes!” signed Bussy, more decidedly than ever. “Doubtless, dear child,” said Catherine, “it is not disagreeable to return to Paris.” “Well, I will reflect,” said the duke, who wished to consult with Bussy. “I have won,” thought Catherine. They embraced once more, and separated. CHAPTER LXVIII. HOW M. DE MONSOREAU OPENED AND SHUT HIS EYES, WHICH PROVED THAT HE WAS NOT DEAD.