“I see one, two, four musicians with their instruments, and behind them, urging them on, De Guiche himself. What is he doing there, though?” “He is waiting until the little door of the staircase, belonging to the ladies of honor, is opened; by that staircase he will ascend to Madame’s apartments, where some new pieces of music are going to be performed during dinner.” “This is admirable news you tell me.” “Is it not, monsieur?” “Was it M. de Malicorne who told you this?” “Yes, monsieur.” “He likes you, then?” “No, monsieur, it is Monsieur that he likes.” “Why?” “Because he wishes to belong to his household.” “And most certainly he shall. How much did he give you for that?” “The secret which I now dispose of to you, monsieur.” “And which I buy for a hundred pistoles. Take them.” “Thank you, monsieur. Look, look, the little door opens; a woman admits the musicians.” “It is Montalais.” “Hush, monseigneur; do not call out her name; whoever says Montalais says Malicorne. If you quarrel with the one, you will be on bad terms with the other.” “Very well; I have seen nothing.” “And I,” said the valet, pocketing the purse, “have received nothing.” The chevalier, being now certain that Guiche had entered, returned to the prince, whom he found splendidly dressed and radiant with joy, as with good looks. “I am told,” he exclaimed, “that the king has taken the sun as his device; really, monseigneur, it is you whom this device would best suit.” “Where is De Guiche?” “He cannot be found. He has fled--has evaporated entirely. Your scolding of this morning terrified him. He could not be found in his apartments.” “Bah! the hair-brained fellow is capable of setting off post-haste to his own estates. Poor man! we will recall him. Come, let us dine now.” “Monseigneur, to-day is a very festival of ideas; I have another.” “What is it?” “Madame is angry with you, and she has reason to be so. You owe her revenge; go and dine with her.” “Oh! that would be acting like a weak and whimsical husband.” “It is the duty of a good husband to do so. The princess is no doubt wearied enough; she will be weeping in her plate, and here eyes will get quite red. A husband who is the cause of his wife’s eyes getting red is an odious creature. Come, monseigneur, come.” “I cannot; for I have directed dinner to be served here.” “Yet see, monseigneur, how dull we shall be; I shall be low-spirited because I know that Madame will be alone; you, hard and savage as you wish to appear, will be sighing all the while. Take me with you to Madame’s dinner, and that will be a delightful surprise. I am sure we shall be very merry; you were in the wrong this morning.” “Well, perhaps I was.” “There is no perhaps at all, for it is a fact you were so.” “Chevalier, chevalier, your advice is not good.”