De Guiche colored. “Thank you, thank you,” said he to Manicamp, grasping his hand. Then, recovering himself, added, “Whatever you do, Manicamp, be careful that this project of Buckingham’s is not made known to any Frenchman here; for, if so, many a sword would be unsheathed in this country that does not fear English steel.”
“But after all,” said Manicamp, “I have had no satisfactory proof given me of the love in question, and it may be no more than an idle tale.”
“No, no,” said De Guiche, “it must be the truth;” and despite his command over himself, he clenched his teeth.
“Well,” said Manicamp, “after all, what does it matter to you? What does it matter to me whether the prince is to be what the late king was? Buckingham the father for the queen, Buckingham the son for the princess.”
“Manicamp! Manicamp!
“It is a fact, or at least, everybody says so.”
“Silence!” cried the count.
“But why, silence?” said De Wardes, “it is a highly creditable circumstance for the French nation. Are not you of my opinion, Monsieur de Bragelonne?”
“To what circumstance do you allude?” inquired De Bragelonne with an abstracted air.
“That the English should render homage to the beauty of our queens and our princesses.”