Bussy went straight to the sleeping-room of the king. There were in it two beds of velvet and satin, pictures, relics, perfumed sachets from the East, and a collection of beautiful swords. Bussy knew the king was not there, as his brother had asked to see him, but he knew that there was next to it a little room which was occupied in turn by all the king’s favorites, and which he now expected to find occupied by St. Luc, whom the king in his great affection had carried off from his wife. Bussy knocked at the antechamber common to the two rooms. The captain of the guards opened.
“M. de Bussy!” cried he.
“Yes, myself, dear M. de Nancey; the king wishes to speak to M. de St. Luc.”
“Very well, tell M. de St. Luc the king wants him.”
“What is he doing?”
“He is with Chicot, waiting for the king’s return from his brother.”
“Will you permit my page to wait here?”
“Willingly, monsieur.”
“Enter, Jean,” said Bussy, and he pointed to the embrasure of a window, where she went to hide herself. St. Luc entered, and M. de Nancey retired.
“What does the king want now?” cried St. Luc, angrily; “ah! it is you, M. de Bussy.”