ordinarily one of his friends, merely wished to get him laughed at
for his precautions; and Bussy feared ridicule more than danger.

He had, even in the eyes of his enemies, earned a reputation for
courage, which could only be sustained by the rashest adventures.
Therefore, alone, and armed only with a sword and poniard, he
advanced towards the house where waited for him no person, but
simply a letter, which the Queen of Navarre sent him every month
on the same day, and which he, according to his promise to the
beautiful Marguerite, went to fetch himself, alone, and at night.

When he arrived at the Rue St. Catherine, his active eye discerned
in the shade the forms of his adversaries. He counted them: "Three,
four, five," said he, "without counting the lackeys, who are
doubtless within call. They think much of me, it seems; all these
for one man. That brave St. Luc did not deceive me; and were his
even the first sword to pierce me I would cry, 'Thanks for your
warning, friend.'" So saying, he continued to advance, only his
arm held his sword under his cloak, of which he had unfastened
the clasp.

It was then that Quelus cried, "To arms."

"Ah, gentlemen," said Bussy, "it appears you wish to kill me:
I am the wild boar you had to hunt. Well, gentlemen, the wild
boar will rip up a few of you; I swear it to you, and I never
break my word."

"Possibly," said Schomberg; "but it is not right, M. Bussy d'Amboise,
that you should be on horseback and we on foot." And as he spoke,