St. Luc looked at him in astonishment.
“Die! at your age, with your name, and Diana!”
“Yes, I shall kill them, I know, but I shall receive some good blow which will tranquilize me forever.”
“What black ideas, Bussy!”
“A husband whom I thought dead, and who has returned to life; a wife who can scarcely quit the bedside of the pretended dying man. Not to see her, smile on her, touch her hand. Mon Dieu!——”
St. Luc interrupted him with a burst of laughter. “Oh!” cried he, “the innocent man. Why, no lover can be more fortunate than you.”
“Prove that to me.”
“You are the friend of M. de Monsoreau.”
“Yes, I am ashamed to say, he calls me his friend.”
“Well! be his friend.”