CHAPTER XLIII.
ETYMOLOGY OF THE RUE DE LA JUSSIENNE.
Remy took his patient by the arm, and led him by the Rue Coquillieredown to the rampart.
"It is strange," said Bussy, "you take me near the marsh of theGrange-Batelier, and call it healthy."
"Oh, monsieur, a little patience; we are going to turn roundthe Rue Pagavin, and get into the Rue Montmartre--you will seewhat a fine street that is."
"As if I do not know it."
"Well, so much the better; I need not lose time in showing youits beauties, and I will lead you at once into a pretty littlestreet."
Indeed, after going a few steps down the Rue Montmartre, theyturned to the right.
"This," said Remy, "is the Rue de la Gypecienne, or Egyptienne,which you like; often called by the people the Rue de la Gyssienne,or Jussienne."
"Very likely; but where are we going?"
"Do you see that little church?" said Remy. "How nicely it issituated; I dare say you never remarked it before."
"No, I did not know it."
"Well, now that you have seen the exterior, enter and look atthe windows--they are very curious."
There was such a pleased smile on the young man's face, thatBussy felt sure there must have been some other reason for makinghim enter than to look at the windows which it was too dark tosee. The chapel was lighted, however, for service, and Remy beganexamining a fresco of the Virgin Mary, which was a continualsource of complaint to the women who frequented the church, asthey said that it attracted the attention of the young shopkeepersaway from them.
"You had some other object in bringing me here than that I shouldadmire the St. Marie, had you not?"
"Ma foi! no."
"Then let us go."
"Wait a moment; the service is finishing."
"Now let us go," said Bussy; "they are moving;" and he walkedto the door.
"At least take some holy water."
Bussy obeyed, and Remy making a sign to a woman who stood near,she advanced, and Bussy grew suddenly pale, for he recognizedGertrude. She saluted him and passed on, but behind her camea figure which, although closely veiled, made his heart beatfast. Remy looked at him, and Bussy knew now why he had broughthim to this church. Bussy followed the lady, and Remy followedhim. Gertrude had walked on before, until she came to an alleyclosed by a door. She opened it, and let her mistress pass. Bussyfollowed, and the two others disappeared.
It was half-past seven in the evening, and near the beginningof May; the air began to have the feeling of spring, and theleaves were beginning to unfold themselves. Bussy looked roundhim, and found himself in a little garden fifty feet square,surrounded by high walls covered with vines and moss. The firstlilacs which had begun to open in the morning sun sent out theirsweet emanations, and the young man felt tempted to think thatso much perfume and warmth and life came to him only from thepresence of the woman he loved so tenderly.
On a little wooden bench sat Diana, twisting in her fingers asprig of wall-flower, which she had picked, without knowing whatshe did. As Bussy approached her, she raised her head, and saidtimidly, "M. le Comte, all deception would be unworthy of us;if you found me at the church of St. Marie l'Egyptienne, it wasnot chance that brought you there."
"No, madame; Remy took me out without my knowing where I was going,and I swear to you that I was ignorant----"
"You do not understand me, monsieur, I know well that M. Remybrought you there, by force, perhaps."
"No, madame, not by force; I did not know that he was going totake me to see any one."
"That is a harsh speech," said Diana, sadly, and with tears inher eyes. "Do you mean that had you known, you would not havecome?"
"Oh, madame!"
"It would have been but just, monsieur; you did me a great service,and I have not thanked you. Pardon me, and receive all my thanks."
"Madame----" Bussy stopped; he felt so overcome, that he had neitherwords nor ideas.
"But I wished to prove to you," continued Diana, "that I am notungrateful, nor forgetful. It was I who begged M. Remy to procurefor me the honor of this interview; it was I who sought for it,forgive me if I have displeased you."
"Oh, madame! you cannot think that."
"I know," continued Diana, who was the strongest, because shehad prepared herself for this interview, "how much trouble youhad in fulfilling my commission; I know all your delicacy; Iknow it and appreciate it, believe me. Judge, then, what I musthave suffered from the idea that you would misunderstand thesentiments of my heart."
"Madame, I have been ill for three days."
"Oh! I know," cried Diana, with a rising color, "and I sufferedmore than you, for M. Remy, he deceived me, no doubt; for hemade me believe----"
"That your forgetfulness caused it. Oh! it is true."
"Then I have been right to do as I have done; to see you, to thankyou for your kindness, and to swear to you an eternal gratitude.Do you believe that I speak from the bottom of my heart?"
Bussy shook his head sadly, and did not reply.
"Do you doubt my words?" said Diana.
"Madame, those who feel a kindness for you, show it when theycan. You knew I was at the palace the night of your presentation,you knew I was close to you, you must have felt my looks fixedon you, and you never raised your eyes to me, you never let meknow by a word, a sign, or a gesture, that you were aware ofmy presence; but perhaps you did not recognize me, madame, youhave only seen me twice." Diana replied with so sad a glanceof reproach, that Bussy was moved by it.
"Pardon, madame," said he; "you are not an ordinary woman, andyet you act like them. This marriage----"
"I was forced to conclude it."
"Yes, but it was easy to break."
"Impossible, on the contrary."
"Did you not know that near you watched a devoted friend?"
"Even that made me fear."
"And you did not think of what my life would be, when you belongedto another. But perhaps you kept the name of Monsoreau fromchoice?"
"Do you think so?" murmured Diana; "so much the better." Andher eyes filled with tears. Bussy walked up and down in greatagitation.
"I am to become once more a stranger to you," said he.
"Alas!"
"Your silence says enough."
"I can only speak by my silence."
"At the Louvre you would not see me, and now you will not speakto me."
"At the Louvre I was watched by M. de Monsoreau, and he is jealous."
"Jealous! What does he want then? mon Dieu! whose happiness canhe envy, when all the world is envying his?"
"I tell you he is jealous; for the last two or three days he hasseen some one wandering round our new abode."
"Then you have quitted the Rue St. Antoine?"
"How!" cried Diana thoughtlessly, "then it was not you?"
"Madame, since your marriage was publicly announced, since thatevening at the Louvre, where you did not deign to look at me, Ihave been in bed, devoured by fever, so you see that your husbandcould not be jealous of me, at least."
"Well! M. le Comte, if it be true that you had any desire to seeme, you must thank this unknown man; for knowing M. de Monsoreauas I know him, this man made me tremble for you, and I wishedto see you and say to you, 'Do not expose yourself so, M. leComte; do not make me more unhappy than I am.'"
"Reassure yourself, madame; it was not I."
"Now, let me finish what I have to say. In the fear of this man--whomI do not know, but whom M. de Monsoreau does perhaps--he exactsthat I should leave Paris, so that," said Diana, holding out herhand to Bussy, "you may look upon this as our last meeting, M. leComte. To-morrow we start for Meridor."
"You are going, madame?"
"There is no other way to reassure M. de Monsoreau; no other wayfor me to be at peace. Besides, I myself detest Paris, the world,the court, and the Louvre. I wish to be alone with my souvenirsof my happy past; perhaps a little of my former happiness willreturn to me there. My father will acc
ompany me, and I shallfind there M. and Madame de St. Luc, who expect me. Adieu, M.de Bussy."
Bussy hid his face in his hands. "All is over for me," he murmured.
"What do you say?" said Diana.
"I say, madame, that this man exiles you, that he takes fromme the only hope left to me, that of breathing the same air asyourself, of seeing you sometimes, of touching your dress asyou pass. Oh! this man is my mortal enemy, and if I perish forit, I will destroy him with my own hands."
"Oh! M. le Comte!"
"The wretch; it is not enough for him that you are his wife:you, the most beautiful and most charming of creatures, but heis still jealous. Jealous! The devouring monster would absorbthe whole world!"
"Oh! calm yourself, comte; mon Dieu; he is excusable, perhaps."
"He is excusable! you defend him, madame?"
"Oh! if you knew!" cried Diana, covering her face with her hands.
"If I knew! Oh! madame, I know one thing; he who is your husbandis wrong to think of the rest of the world."
"But!" cried Diana, in a broken voice, "if you were wrong, M.le Comte, and if he were not."
And the young woman, touching with her cold hand the burning onesof Bussy, rose and fled among the somber alleys of the garden,seized Gertrude's arm and dragged her away, before Bussy, astonishedand overwhelmed with delight, had time to stretch out his armsto retain her. He uttered a cry and tottered; Remy arrived intime to catch him in his arms and make him sit down on the benchthat Diana had just quitted.