“What were you reading so attentively when I came in?”
“Oh! a letter, which interests you still more than me. Where the devil were my brains, that I did not show it to you?”
“What is it?”
“Sad news, monseigneur; Monsoreau is dead.”
“What!” cried the duke, with a surprise which Bussy thought was a joyful one.
“Dead, monseigneur.”
“M. de Monsoreau!”
“Mon Dieu! yes; are we not all mortal?”
“Yes; but so suddenly.”
“Ah! but if you are killed?”