Jeanne rushed behind the curtains to hide herself, while St. Luc, his face full of terror, fell on his knees before the king, who was pale with rage. “Ah!” cried Chicot, from the bed, “Ah! mercy!--Holy Virgin! I am dying!” Henri, seizing, in a transport of rage, the trumpet from the hands of St. Luc, raised it as if to strike. But St. Luc jumped up and cried-- “Sire, I am a gentleman; you have no right to strike me!” Henri dashed the trumpet violently on the ground. Some one picked it up; it was Chicot, who, hearing the noise, judged that his presence was necessary as a mediator. He ran to the curtain, and, drawing out poor Jeanne, all trembling-- “Oh!” said he, “Adam and Eve after the Fall. You send them away, Henri, do you not?” “Yes.” “Then I will be the exterminating angel.” And throwing himself between, the king and St. Luc, and waving the trumpet over the heads of the guilty couple, said-- “This is my Paradise, which you have lost by your disobedience; I forbid you to return to it.” Then he whispered to St. Luc, who had his arm round his wife-- “If you have a good horse, kill it, but be twenty leagues from here before to-morrow.” CHAPTER X. HOW BUSSY WENT TO SEEK FOR THE REALITY OF HIS DREAM. When Bussy returned home again, he was still thinking of his dream. “Morbleu!” said he, “it is impossible that a dream should have left such a vivid impression on my mind. I see it all so clearly;--the bed, the lady, the doctor. I must seek for it--surely I can find it again.” Then Bussy, after having the bandage of his wound resettled by a valet, put on high boots, took his sword, wrapped himself in his cloak, and set off for the same place where he had been nearly murdered the night before, and nearly at the same hour. He went in a litter to the Rue Roi-de-Sicile, then got out, and told his servants to wait for him. It was about nine in the evening, the curfew had sounded, and Paris was deserted. Bussy arrived at the Bastile, then he sought for the place where his horse had fallen, and thought he had found it; he next endeavored to repeat his movements of the night before, retreated to the wall, and examined every door to find the corner against which he had leaned, but all the doors seemed alike. “Pardieu!” said he, “if I were to knock at each of these doors question all the lodgers, spend a thousand crowns to make valets and old women speak, I might learn what I want to know. There are fifty houses; it would take me at least five nights.” As he spoke, he perceived a small and trembling light approaching.