“Be easy, I feel as if I had known you for twenty years, and could not do without you.” The handsome face of the young doctor grew radiant with joy. “Well, then,” said he, “it is decided; you go to the chase to look for the lady, and I go to look for the house.” “It will be curious if we each succeed.” There had been a great chase commanded in the Bois de Vincennes, for M. de Monsoreau to enter on his functions of chief huntsman. Most people had believed, from the scene of the day before, that the king would not attend, and much astonishment was expressed when it was announced that he had set off with his brother and all the court. The rendezvous was at the Point St. Louis. It was thus they named a cross-road where the martyr king used to sit under an oak-tree and administer justice. Everyone was therefore assembled here at nine o’clock, when the new officer, object of the general curiosity, unknown as he was to almost everyone, appeared on a magnificent black horse. All eyes turned towards him. He was a man about thirty-five, tall, marked by the smallpox, and with a disagreeable expression. Dressed in a jacket of green cloth braided with silver, with a silver shoulder belt, on which the king’s arms were embroidered in gold; on his head a cap with a long plume; in his left hand a spear, and in his right the éstortuaire [Footnote: The éstortuaire was a stick, which the chief huntsman presented to the king, to put aside the branches of the trees when he was going at full gallop.] destined for the king, M. de Monsoreau might look like a terrible warrior, but not certainly like a handsome cavalier. “Fie! what an ugly figure you have brought us, monseigneur,” said Bussy, to the Duc d’Anjou, “are these the sort of gentlemen that your favor seeks for out of the provinces? Certainly, one could hardly find such in Paris, which is nevertheless as well stocked with ugliness. They say that your highness made a great point of the king’s appointing this man.” “M. de Monsoreau has served me well, and I recompense him,” replied the duke. “Well said, monseigneur, it is rare for princes to be grateful; but if that be all, I also have served you well, and should wear the embroidered jacket more gracefully, I trust, than M. de Monsoreau. He has a red beard, I see also, which is an additional beauty.” “I never knew that a man must be an Apollo, or Antinous, to fill an office at court.” “You never heard it; astonishing!” “I consult the heart and not the face--the services rendered and promised.” “Your highness will say I am very envious; but I search, and uselessly, I confess, to discover what service this Monsoreau can have rendered you.” “You are too curious, Bussy,” said the duke, angrily. “Just like princes,” cried Bussy, with his ordinary freedom, “they ask you everything; but if you ask a question in return, you are too curious.” “Well! go and ask M. de Monsoreau, himself.”