As he spoke, a pane of the window flew into pieces, then the window itself, and three armed men appeared on the balcony while a fourth was climbing over. This one had his face covered with a mask, and held in his right hand a sword, and in his left a pistol.
Bussy remained paralyzed for a moment by the dreadful cry uttered by Diana at this sight. The masked man made a sign, and the three others advanced. Bussy put Diana back, and drew his sword.
“Come, my brave fellows!” said a sepulchral voice from under the mask; “he is already half-dead with fear.”
“You are wrong,” said Bussy; “I never feel fear.”
Diana drew near him.
“Go back, Diana,” said he. But she threw herself on his neck. “You will get me killed,” said he; and she drew back.
“Ah!” said the masked man, “it is M. de Bussy, and I would not believe it, fool that I was! Really, what a good and excellent friend! He learns that the husband is absent, and has left his wife alone, and fears she may be afraid, so he comes to keep her company, although on the eve of a duel. I repeat, he is a good and excellent friend!”
“Ah! it is you, M. de Monsoreau!” said Bussy; “throw off your mask.”
“I will,” said he, doing so.
Diana uttered another cry; the comte was as pale as a corpse, but he smiled like a demon.