Bussy went away, and Monsoreau jumped into the saddle.
“What is the matter?” said Rémy; “you look so pale, I believe you are really ill.”
“Do you know where he is going?”
“No.”
“To Méridor.”
“Well, did you hope he would not?”
“Mon Dieu! what will happen, after what he saw yesterday?”
“Madame de Monsoreau will deny everything.”
“But he saw her.”
“She will say he did not.”