“And kill me, while I had my eyes fixed upon you. If I had to choose my death, Diana, that is the one I should prefer.” “Yes; but now you are not to die, but live.” “And I will live; therefore tranquilize yourself, Diana. Besides, I am well seconded--you do not know my friends; Antragues uses his sword as well as I do, Ribeirac is so steady on the ground that his eyes and his arms alone seem to be alive, and Livarot is as active as a tiger. Believe me, Diana, I wish there were more danger, for there would be more honor.” “Well, I believe you, and I smile and hope; but listen, and promise to obey me.” “Yes, if you do not tell me to leave.” “It is just what I am about to do. I appeal to your reason.” “Then you should not have made me mad.” “No nonsense, but obedience--that is the way to prove your love.” “Order, then.” “Dear friend, you want a long sleep; go home.” “Not already.” “Yes, I am going to pray for you.” “Pray now, then.” As he spoke, a pane of the window flew into pieces, then the window itself, and three armed men appeared on the balcony while a fourth was climbing over. This one had his face covered with a mask, and held in his right hand a sword, and in his left a pistol. Bussy remained paralyzed for a moment by the dreadful cry uttered by Diana at this sight. The masked man made a sign, and the three others advanced. Bussy put Diana back, and drew his sword. “Come, my brave fellows!” said a sepulchral voice from under the mask; “he is already half-dead with fear.” “You are wrong,” said Bussy; “I never feel fear.” Diana drew near him. “Go back, Diana,” said he. But she threw herself on his neck. “You will get me killed,” said he; and she drew back. “Ah!” said the masked man, “it is M. de Bussy, and I would not believe it, fool that I was! Really, what a good and excellent friend! He learns that the husband is absent, and has left his wife alone, and fears she may be afraid, so he comes to keep her company, although on the eve of a duel. I repeat, he is a good and excellent friend!” “Ah! it is you, M. de Monsoreau!” said Bussy; “throw off your mask.” “I will,” said he, doing so. Diana uttered another cry; the comte was as pale as a corpse, but he smiled like a demon. “Let us finish, monsieur,” said Bussy; “it was very well for Homer’s heroes, who were demigods, to talk before they fought; but I am a man--attack me, or let me pass.” Monsoreau replied by a laugh which made Diana shudder, but raised Bussy’s anger. “Let me pass!” cried he. “Oh, oh!” “Then, draw and have done; I wish to go home and I live far off.” During this time two other men mounted into the balcony. “Two and four make six,” said Bussy, “where are the others?” “Waiting at the door.” Diana fell on her knees, and in spite of her efforts Bussy heard her sobs. “My dear comte,” said he, “you know I am a man of honor.” “Yes, you are, and madame is a faithful wife.”