“Ah! conspirator!” cried Chicot again; “ah! unworthy monk, this is for your drunkenness, this for idleness, this for anger, this for greediness, and this for all the vices you have.” “M. Chicot, have pity,” whispered Gorenflot. “And here, traitor, this is for your treason,” continued Chicot. “Ah! why did it not please God to substitute for your vulgar carcass the high and mighty shoulders of the Duc de Mayenue, to whom I owe a volley of blows, the interest of which has been accumulating for seven years!” “Chicot!” cried the duke. “Yes, Chicot, unworthy servant of the king, who wishes he had the hundred arms of Briareus for this occasion.” And he redoubled his blows with such violence, that the sufferer, making a tremendous effort, pushed himself through, and fell torn and bleeding into the arms of his friends. Chicot’s last blow fell into empty space. He turned, and saw that the true Gorenflot had fainted with terror. CHAPTER XC. WHAT WAS PASSING NEAR THE BASTILE WHILE CHICOT WAS PAYING HIS DEBT TO Y. DE MAYENNE. It was eleven at night, and the Duc d’Anjou was waiting impatiently at home for a messenger from the Duc le Guise. He walked restlessly up and down, looking every minute at the clock. All at once he heard a horse in the courtyard, and thinking it was the messenger, he ran to the window, but it was a groom leading up and down a horse which was waiting for its master, who almost immediately came out. It was Bussy, who, as captain of the duke’s guards, came to give the password for the night. The duke, seeing this handsome and brave young man, of whom he had never had reason to complain, experienced an instant’s remorse, but on his face he read so much joy, hope, and happiness, that all his jealousy returned. However, Bussy, ignorant that the duke was watching him, jumped into his saddle and rode off to his own hotel, where he gave his horse to the groom. There he saw Rémy. “Ah! you Rémy?” “Myself, monsieur.” “Not yet in bed?” “I have just come in. Indeed, since I have no longer a patient, it seems to me that the days have forty-eight hours.” “Are you ennuyé?” “I fear so.” “Then Gertrude is abandoned?” “Perfectly.” “You grew tired?” “Of being beaten. That was how her love showed itself.” “And does your heart not speak for her to-night?” “Why to-night?” “Because I would have taken you with me.” “To the Bastile?” “Yes.” “You are going there?” “Yes.” “And Monsoreau?” “Is at Compiègne, preparing a chase for the king.” “Are you sure, monsieur?” “The order was given publicly this morning.” “Ah, well; Jourdain, my sword.” “You have changed your mind?” “I will accompany you to the door, for two reasons.” “What are they?” “Firstly, lest you should meet any enemies.” Bussy smiled. “Oh! mon Dieu, I know you fear no one, and that Rémy the doctor is but a poor companion; still, two men are not so likely to be attacked as one. Secondly, because I have a great deal of good advice to give you.”