THE INCONVENIENCE OF LARGE LITTERS AND NARROW DOORS.
Bussy did not quit Diana; the smiles of Monsoreau gave him a liberty which he was only too glad to make use of.
“Madame,” said he to Diana, “I am in truth the most miserable of men. On the news of his death, I advised the prince to return to Paris, and to come to terms with his mother; he did so, and now you remain in Anjou.”
“Oh, Louis,” replied she, “we dare not say that we are unhappy; so many happy days, so many joys—do you forget them all?”
“I forget nothing, madame; on the contrary, I remember but too much, and that is why I suffer as I do at losing this happiness. What shall I do if I return to Paris, a hundred leagues from you? My heart sinks at the thought, Diana.”
Diana looked at him, and saw so much grief in his eyes, that she said, “Well, if you go to Paris, I will go also.”
“How! will you quit M. de Monsoreau?”
“No, he would not allow me to do so; he must come with us.”
“Wounded, ill as he is? Impossible!”
“He will come, I tell you.” And, leaving Bussy, she went to the prince. The count frowned dreadfully.