“Oh! yes! you are right; for this moment repays me for all my griefs. Oh! my Diana! my beloved Diana!” cried he, drawing his daughter to him with one hand, and extending the other to Bussy. But all at once he cried, “But you said I was to see Madame de Monsoreau. Where is she?” “Alas! my father!” cried Diana. Bussy summoned up all his strength. “M. de Monsoreau is your son-in-law,” he said. “What! my son-in-law! and every one--even you, Diana--left me in ignorance.” “I feared to write, my father; he said my letters would fall into the hands of the prince. Besides, I thought you knew all.” “But why all these strange mysteries?” “Ah, yes, my father; why did M. de Monsoreau let you think me dead, and not let you know I was his wife?” The baron, overwhelmed, looked from Bussy to Diana. “M. de Monsoreau my son-in-law!” stammered he. “That cannot astonish you, father; did you not order me to marry him?” “Yes, if he saved you.” “Well! he did save me,” said Diana, sinking on to a chair, “not from misfortune, but from shame.” “Then why did he let me think you dead? I, who wept for you so bitterly. Why did he let me die of despair, when a single word would have restored me?” “Oh! there is some hidden mystery,” cried Diana; “my father, you will not leave me again; M. de Bussy, you will protect us.” “Alas! madame! it belongs to me no more to enter into your family secrets. Seeing the strange maneuvers of your husband, I wished to bring you a defender; you have your father, I retire.” “He is right,” said the old man, sadly. “M. de Monsoreau feared the Duc d’Anjou, and so does M. de Bussy.” Diana cast a glance at the young man. He smiled and said, “M. le Baron, excuse, I beg, the singular question I am about to ask; and you also, madame, for I wish to serve you. M. le Baron, ask Madame de Monsoreau if she be happy in the marriage which she has contracted in obedience to your orders.” Diana burst into tears for her only answer. The eyes of the baron filled also, for he began to fear that his friendship for M. de Monsoreau had tended to make his daughter unhappy. “Now!” said Bussy, “is it true that you voluntarily promised him your daughter’s hand?” “Yes, if he saved her.” “And he did save her. Then, monsieur, I need not ask if you mean to keep your promise.” “It is a law for all, and above all for gentlemen; you know that, M. de Bussy. My daughter must be his.” “Ah!” cried Diana, “would I were dead!” “Madame,” said Bussy, “you see I was right, and that I can do no more here. M. le Baron gives you to M. de Monsoreau, and you yourself promised to marry him when you should see your father again safe and well.” “Ah! you tear my heart, M. de Bussy,” cried Diana, approaching the young man; “my father does not know that I fear this man, that I hate him; my father sees in him only my saviour, and I think him my murderer.” “Diana! Diana!” cried the baron, “he saved you.”