“Well or ill matters little. This is what I claim from you, my friend, my almost brother. During the last three days Madame has been living in a perfect intoxication of gayety. On the first day, I dared not look at her; I hated her for not being as unhappy as myself. The next day I could not bear her out of my sight; and she, Raoul--at least I thought I remarked it--she looked at me, if not with pity, at least with gentleness. But between her looks and mine, a shadow intervened; another’s smile invited hers. Beside her horse another’s always gallops, which is not mine; in her ear another’s caressing voice, not mine, unceasingly vibrates. Raoul, for three days past my brain has been on fire; flame, not blood, courses through my veins. That shadow must be driven away, that smile must be quenched; that voice must be silenced.” “You wish Monsieur’s death,” exclaimed Raoul. “No, no, I am not jealous of the husband; I am jealous of the lover.” “Of the lover?” said Raoul. “Have you not observed it, you who were formerly so keen-sighted?” “Are you jealous of the Duke of Buckingham?” “To the very death.” “Again jealous?” “This time the affair will be easy to arrange between us; I have taken the initiative, and have sent him a letter.” “It was you, then, who wrote to him?” “How do you know that?” “I know it, because he told me so. Look at this;” and he handed De Guiche the letter he had received nearly at the same moment as his own. De Guiche read it eagerly, and said, “He is a brave man, and more than that, a gallant man.” “Most certainly the duke is a gallant man; I need not ask if you wrote to him in a similar style.” “He will show you my letter when you call on him on my behalf.” “But that is almost out of the question.” “What is?” “That I shall call on him for that purpose.” “Why so?” “The duke consults me as you do.” “I suppose you will give _me_ the preference! Listen to me, Raoul, I wish you to tell his Grace--it is a very simple matter--that to-day, to-morrow, the following day, or any other day he may choose, I will meet him at Vincennes.” “Reflect, De Guiche.” “I thought I told you I have reflected.” “The duke is a stranger here; he is on a mission which renders his person inviolable.... Vincennes is close to the Bastile.” “The consequences concern _me_.” “But the motive for this meeting? What motive do you wish me to assign?” “Be perfectly easy on that score, he will not ask any. The duke must be as sick of me as I am of him. I implore you, therefore, seek the duke, and if it is necessary to entreat him, to accept my offer, I will do so.” “That is useless. The duke has already informed me that he wishes to speak to me. The duke is now playing cards with the king. Let us both go there. I will draw him aside in the gallery; you will remain aloof. Two words will be sufficient.” “That is well arranged. I will take De Wardes to keep me in countenance.”