“I wish you to return to Paris, dear child, to return to your brother’s court, who will receive you with open arms.”
“No, madame, it is not he whose arms are open to receive me—it is the Bastile.”
“No; return, and on my honor, on my love as a mother, I solemnly swear that you shall be received by the king as though you were king and he the Duc d’Anjou.”
The duke looked to the tapestry.
“Accept, my son; you will have honors, guards.”
“Oh, madame, your son gave me guards—his four minions!”
“Do not reply so; you shall choose your own guards, and M. de. Bussy shall be their captain, if you like.”
Again the duke glanced to the wall, and, to his surprise, saw Bussy smiling and applauding by every possible method.
“What is the meaning of this change?” thought the duke; “is it that he may be captain of my guards? Then must I accept?” said he aloud, as though talking to himself.
“Yes, yes!” signed Bussy, with head and hands.