“Let me see,” cried Monsoreau, who feared there was a note hidden in the handle.
The prince separated the two parts. “To you, who are a hunter,” said he, “I give the blade: to the countess, the handle. Good-morning, Bussy, you are then a friend of the count’s, now?”
Diana reddened, but Bussy said:
“Your highness forgets that you asked me to inquire after M. de Monsoreau.”
“It is true.”
The prince sat down, and began to talk to Diana. In a few minutes he said, “Count, it is dreadfully warm in your rooms. I see the countess is stifling. I will give her my arm for a turn in the garden.”
The husband looked furious.
“Give me an arm,” said he to Bussy, and he got up and followed his wife.
“Ah!” said the duke, “it seems you are better.”
“Yes, monseigneur, and I hope soon to be able to accompany Madame de Monsoreau wherever she goes.”