“Ah! you are right. He is but a simple gentleman, and if he do not reply, I shall know what to say.” “What?” “Tell him he is impertinent.” And, turning from the prince, Bussy approached M. de Monsoreau, who was in the midst of the circle. Bussy approached, gay and smiling, and his hat in his hand. “Pardon, monsieur, but you seem all alone. Is it that the favor which you enjoy has already made you enemies?” “I do not know, monsieur, but it is probable. But, may I ask, to what I owe the honor that you do me in invading my solitude?” “Ma foi, to the great admiration that M. le Duc d’Anjou has inspired in me for you.” “How so?” “By recounting to me the exploit for which you were made chief huntsman.” M. de Monsoreau grew so frightfully pale, that the marks in his face looked like black spots on his yellow skin; at the same time he looked at Bussy in a manner that portended a violent storm. Bussy saw that he had done wrong; but he was not a man to draw back; on the contrary, he was one of those who generally repair an indiscretion by an impertinence. “You say, monsieur,” said Monsoreau, “that the Duke recounted to you my last exploit?” “Yes, monsieur, but I should much like to hear the story from your own lips.” M. de Monsoreau clasped his dagger tighter in his hand, as though he longed to attack Bussy. “Ma foi, monsieur,” said he, “I was quite disposed to grant your request, and recognize your courtesy, but unfortunately here is the king arriving, so we must leave it for another time.” Indeed, the king, mounted on his favorite Spanish horse, advanced rapidly towards them. He loved handsome faces, and was therefore little pleased with that of M. de Monsoreau. However, he accepted, with a good grace, the éstortuaire which he presented to him, kneeling, according to custom. As soon as the king was armed, the chase commenced. Bussy watched narrowly everyone that passed, looking for the original of the portrait, but in vain; there were pretty, even beautiful and charming women, but not the charming creature whom he sought for. He was reduced to conversation, and the company of his ordinary friends. Antragues, always laughing and talking, was a great amusement. “We have a frightful chief huntsman,” said he to Bussy, “do you not think so?” “I find him horrible; what a family it must be if his children are like him. Do you know his wife?” “He is not married.” “How do you know?” “From Madame de Vendron, who finds him very handsome, and would willingly make him her fourth husband. See how she keeps near him.” “What property has he?” “Oh! a great deal in Anjou.” “Then he is rich?” “They say so, but that is all; he is not of very good birth. But see, there is M. le Duc d’Anjou calling to you.” “Ah! ma foi, he must wait. I am curious about this man. I find him singular, I hardly know why. And such an odd name.” “Oh! it comes from Mons Soricis; Livarot knows all about that.--Here, Livarot; this Monsoreau----” “Well.”