“Then it was her?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“You saw her?”
“Yes.”
“And she spoke to you?”
“Certainly. Doubtless you had reason to think her dead, and you perhaps hoped she was so.”
The duke grew pale.
“Yes, monseigneur,” continued Bussy, “although you pushed to despair a young girl of noble race, she escaped from death; but do not breathe yet, do not think yourself absolved, for, in preserving her life, she found a misfortune worse than death.”
“What is it? what has happened to her?”
“Monseigneur, a man preserved her honor and saved her life, but he made her pay for this service so dearly that she regrets his having rendered it.”