“Do you think so?” murmured Diana; “so much the better.” And her eyes filled with tears. Bussy walked up and down in great agitation.
“I am to become once more a stranger to you,” said he.
“Alas!”
“Your silence says enough.”
“I can only speak by my silence.”
“At the Louvre you would not see me, and now you will not speak to me.”
“At the Louvre I was watched by M. de Monsoreau, and he is jealous.”
“Jealous! What does he want then? mon Dieu! whose happiness can he envy, when all the world is envying his?”
“I tell you he is jealous; for the last two or three days he has seen some one wandering round our new abode.”
“Then you have quitted the Rue St. Antoine?”