"What is he doing?"

"He is with Chicot, waiting for the king's return from his brother."

"Will you permit my page to wait here?"

"Willingly, monsieur."

"Enter, Jean," said Bussy, and he pointed to the embrasure of
a window, where she went to hide herself. St. Luc entered, and
M. de Nancey retired.

"What does the king want now?" cried St. Luc, angrily; "ah! it
is you, M. de Bussy,"

"I, and before everything, let me thank you for the service you
rendered me."

"Ah! it was quite natural; I could not bear to see a brave gentleman
assassinated: I thought you killed."

"It did not want much to do it, but I got off with a wound, which
I think I repaid with interest to Schomberg and D'Epernon. As
for Quelus, he may thank the bones of his head: they are the
hardest I ever knew."

"Ah! tell me about it, it will amuse me a little."

"I have no time now, I come for something else. You are ennuye----"