“Gentlemen,” cried he, “in heaven’s name, help an unfortunate nobleman, who may still escape if you aid him.”
“What do you say, monseigneur?” said one.
“Imprudent!” said the other.
“Monseigneur,” cried Bussy, who heard the conversation, “deliver me, and I will pardon you for betraying me.”
“Do you hear?” said the duke.
“What do you order?”
“That you deliver him from his sufferings,” said he, with a kind of laugh.
Bussy turned his head to look at the man who laughed at such a time, and at the same instant an arquebuse was discharged into his breast.
“Cursed assassin! oh, Diana!” murmured he, and fell back dead.
“Is he dead?” cried several men who, after forcing the door, appeared at the windows.