“No, he really received a sword-thrust through his body, and but for that fool of a Rémy, he would have died; I believe his soul must be glued to his body.” They arrived at the conservatory, and Diana continued to smile charmingly on the prince. He passed first, then Diana, and Monsoreau wished to follow, but it was impossible. His litter was too large to go through the door. At this sight he uttered a groan. Diana went on quietly, without looking at him, but Bussy, who understood her, said to him: “It is useless to try, M. le Comte, your litter will not pass.” “Monseigneur!” cried Monsoreau, “do not go into that conservatory, some of the flowers exhale dangerous perfumes.” Then he fainted, and was carried to his room. Bussy went to tell Diana what had happened, and she left the duke to go to the castle. “Have we succeeded?” said Bussy to her as she passed. “I hope so; do not go away without having seen Gertrude.” When Monsoreau opened his eyes again, he saw Diana standing at his bedside. “Ah! it is you, madame,” said he, “to-night we leave for Paris.” Rémy cried out in horror, but Monsoreau paid no attention. “Can you think of such a thing, with your wound?” said Diana, quietly. “Madame, I would rather die than suffer, and were I to die on the road, we start to-night.” “As you please, monsieur.” “Then make your preparations.” “My preparations are soon made, but may I ask the reason of this sudden determination?” “I will tell you, madame, when you have no more flowers to show to the prince, and when my doors are large enough to admit litters.” Diana bowed. “But, madame----” said Rémy. “M. le Comte wishes it,” replied she, “and my duty is to obey.” And she left the room. As the duke was making his adieux to the Baron de Méridor, Gertrude appeared, and said aloud to the duke that her mistress regretted that she could not have the honor of saying farewell to his highness; and softly to Bussy that Diana would set off for Paris that evening. As they went home again, the duke felt unwilling to leave Anjou now that Diana smiled on him. Therefore he said, “I have been reflecting, Bussy,” said he. “On what, monseigneur?” “That it is not wise to give in at once to my mother.” “You are right, she thinks herself clever enough without that.” “But by dragging it on for a week, and giving fêtes, and calling the liability around us, she will see how strong we are.” “Well reasoned, but still----” “I will stay here a week; depend upon it I shall draw new concessions from the queen.” Bussy appeared to reflect. “Well, monseigneur,” said he, “perhaps you are right, but the king, not knowing your intentions, may become annoyed; he is very irascible.” “You are right, but I shall send some one to the king to announce my return in a week.” “Yes, but that some one will run great risks.” “If I change my mind, you mean.” “Yes, and in spite of your promise, you would do so if you thought it your interest.” “Perhaps.”