“We are going,” said he to Bussy, who ran down-stairs without replying; while the duke, left alone, tried to penetrate the corridor where he had seen the silk dress vanish. But, turning, he saw that Monsoreau had followed, and was standing at the door.
“Your highness mistakes your way,” said he.
“True,” said the duke, “thank you.” And he went down with rage in his heart. When he returned home, Aurilly glided into his room.
“Well,” said the duke, “I am baffled by the husband!”
“And, perhaps, also by the lover, monseigneur.”
“What do you say?”
“The truth.”
“Speak, then.”
“I hope your highness will pardon me—it was in your service.”
“I pardon you in advance. Go on.”