“Finish.”
“Well, monseigneur, Mademoiselle de Méridor, to escape becoming the mistress of the Duc d’Anjou, has thrown herself into the arms of a man whom she detests, and is now Madame de Monsoreau.”
At these words the blood rushed furiously into the duke’s face.
“Is this true?” said he.
“Pardieu! I said it,” said Bussy, haughtily.
“I did not mean that; I did not doubt your word, Bussy, I wondered only if it were possible that one of my gentlemen had had the audacity to interfere between me and a woman whom I honored with my love.”
“And why not?”
“Then you would have done so?”
“I would have done better; I would have warned you that your honor was being lost.”
“Listen, Bussy,” said the prince, becoming calmer, “I do not justify myself, but M. de Monsoreau has been a traitor towards me.”