“And whom I advise him to get rid of,” said Schomberg, coming forward on the other side. “Ah, M. de Schomberg! I did not recognize you.” “Perhaps not; is my face still blue?” “Not so; you are very pale. Are you not well?” “Yes, it is with anger.” “Oh I then you have also some one who annoys you?” “Yes, monsieur.” “And I also,” said Maugiron. “Really, gentlemen, you all look very gloomy.” “You forget me,” said D’Epernon, planting himself before Bussy. “Pardon me, M. d’Epernon, you were behind the others, as usual, and I have so little the pleasure of knowing you, that it was not for me to speak first.” It was strange to see Bussy smiling and calm among those four furious faces, whose eyes spoke with so terrible an eloquence, that he must have been blind or stupid not to have understood their language. But Bussy never lost his smile. “It seems to me that there is an echo in this room,” said he quietly. “Look, gentlemen,” said Quelus, “how provincial M. de Bussy has become; he has a beard, and no knot to his sword; he has black boots and a gray hat.” “It is an observation that I was just making to myself, my dear sir; seeing you so well dressed, I said to myself, ‘How much harm a few weeks’ absence does to a man; here am I, Louis de Clermont, forced to take a little Gascon gentleman as a model of taste.’ But let me pass; you are so near to me that you tread on my feet, and I feel it in spite of my boots.” And turning away, he advanced towards St. Luc, whom he saw approaching. “Incredible!” cried all the young men, “we insulted him; he took no notice.” “There is something in it,” said Quelus. “Well!” said the king, advancing, “what were you and M. de Bussy saying?” “Do you wish to know what M. de Bussy said, sire?” “Yes, I am curious.” “Well, I trod on his foot, and insulted him, and he said nothing.” “What, gentlemen,” cried Henri, feigning anger, “you dared to insult a gentleman in the Louvre!” “Alas! yes, sire, and he said nothing.” “Well! I am going to the queen.” As the king went out of the great door, St. Luc reentered by a side one, and advanced towards the four gentlemen. “Pardon, M. Quelus,” said he, “but do you still live in the Rue St. Honoré?” “Yes, my dear friend; why do you ask?” “I have two words to say to you.” “Ah!” “And you, M. de Schomberg?” “Rue Béthisy,” said Schomberg, astonished. “D’Epernon’s address I know.” “Rue de Grenelle.” “You are my neighbor. And you, Maugiron?” “Near the Louvre. But I begin to understand; you come from M. de Bussy.” “Never mind from whom I come; I have to speak to you, that is all.” “To all four of us?” “Yes.” “Then if you cannot speak here, let us all go to Schomberg’s; it is close by.” “So be it.” And the five gentlemen went out of the Louvre arm in arm. CHAPTER LXXVI. HOW M. DE ST. LUC ACQUITTED HIMSELF OF THE COMMISSION GIVEN TO HIM BY BUSSY. Let us leave St. Luc a little while in Schomberg’s room, and see what had passed between him and Bussy.