“Meanwhile, do you want me?”
“No, my dear Rémy.”
“Shall I not follow you?”
“Impossible.”
“Be prudent, monseigneur.”
“Ah! the recommendation is useless, my prudence is well known.”
Bussy dined like a man who does not know when he will sup, then, at eight o’clock, choosing the best of his swords, and attaching, in spite of the king’s orders, a pair of pistols to his belt, went in his litter to the corner of the Rue St. Paul.
He easily recognized the house again, and then, wrapped in his cloak, hid at the corner of the street, determined to wait for two hours, and at the end of that time, if no one came, to act for himself. He had scarcely been there ten minutes, when he saw two cavaliers coming. One of them dismounted, gave his horse to the other, who was probably a lackey, and who went away with the horses, and advanced towards the house pointed out to Bussy, and, after glancing round to see if he were observed, opened the door and went in. Bussy waited two or three minutes, and then followed him. He advanced slowly and softly, found the staircase, and went up. In the corridor he stopped, for he heard a voice say, “Gertrude, tell your mistress that it is I, and that I must come in.”
This was said in an imperious tone, and, a minute after, Bussy heard a woman’s voice say:
“Pass into the drawing-room, Monsieur, and madame will come to you.”