"No, it is too late, and you cannot take the credit of it. We are going to Madame's apartments, so come at once."
"Ah! ah!" said Manicamp; "lead on, then."
And he followed Montalais, who ran before him as light as Galatea.
"This time," said Manicamp, as he followed his guide, "I do not think that stories about hunting expeditions would be acceptable. We will try, however, and if need be—why, if there should be any occasion for it, we must try something else."
Montalais still ran on.
"How fatiguing it is," thought Manicamp, "to have need of one's head and legs at the same time."
At last, however, they arrived. Madame had just finished undressing, and was in a most elegant déshabille, but it must be understood that she had changed her dress before she had any idea of being subjected to the emotions which agitated her. She was waiting with the most restless impatience, and Montalais and Manicamp found her standing near the door. At the sound of their approaching footsteps, Madame came forward to meet them. "Ah!" she said, "at last!"
"Here is M. Manicamp," replied Montalais.
Manicamp bowed with the greatest respect; Madame signed to Montalais to withdraw, and she immediately obeyed. Madame followed her with her eyes in silence until the door closed behind her, and then turning toward Manicamp, said, "What is the matter?—and is it true, as I am told, Monsieur de Manicamp, that some one is lying wounded in the chateau?"
"Yes, madame, unfortunately so—Monsieur de Guiche."
"Yes! Monsieur de Guiche," repeated the princess. "I had, in fact, heard it rumored, but not confirmed. And so, in perfect truth, it is Monsieur de Guiche who has been so unfortunate."
"M. de Guiche himself, madame."
"Are you aware, M. de Manicamp," said the princess, hastily, "that the king has the strongest antipathy to duels?"
"Perfectly so, madame; but a duel with a wild beast is not amenable to his majesty."
"Oh, you will not insult me by supposing that I should credit the absurd fable which has been reported, with what object I cannot tell, respecting M. de Guiche having been wounded by a wild boar. No, no, monsieur; the real truth is known, and, in addition to the inconvenience of his wound, M. de Guiche runs the risk of losing his liberty."
"Alas! madame, I am well aware of that, but what is to be done?"
"You have seen the king?"
"Yes, madame."
"What did you say to him?"
"I told him how M. de Guiche had been to the chase, and how a wild boar had rushed forth out of the Bois-Rochin; how M. de Guiche fired at it, and how, in fact, the furious brute dashed at De Guiche, killed his horse, and grievously wounded himself."
"And the king believed that?"
"Perfectly."
"Oh, you surprise me, Monsieur de Manicamp; you surprise me very much." And Madame walked up and down the room, casting a searching look from time to time at Manicamp, who remained motionless and impassible in the same place. At last she stopped. "And yet," she said, "every one here seems united in giving another cause for his wound."
"What cause, madame," said Manicamp, "may I be permitted, without indiscretion, to ask your highness?"
"You ask such a question? You, M. de Guiche's intimate friend, his confidant, indeed!"
"Oh, madame! the intimate friend—yes; the confidant—no; De Guiche is a man who can keep his own secrets, who has some of his own, certainly, but who never breathes a syllable about them. De Guiche is discretion itself, madame."
"Very well, then; those secrets which M. de Guiche keeps so scrupulously, I shall have the pleasure of informing you of," said the princess, almost spitefully; "for the king may possibly question you a second time, and if, on the second occasion, you were to repeat the same story to him, he possibly might not be very well satisfied with it."
"But, madame, I think your highness is mistaken with regard to the king. His majesty has been perfectly satisfied with me, I assure you."
"In that case, permit me to assure you, Monsieur de Manicamp, that only proves one thing, which is, that his majesty is very easily satisfied."
"I think your highness is mistaken in arriving at such an opinion: his majesty is well known not to be contented except with very good reasons."
"And do you suppose that he will thank you for your officious falsehood, when he will learn to-morrow that M. de Guiche had, on behalf of his friend, M. de Bragelonne, a quarrel which ended in a hostile meeting?"
"A quarrel on M. de Bragelonne's account," said Manicamp, with the most innocent expression in the world; "what does your royal highness do me the honor to tell me?"
"What is there astonishing in that? M. de Guiche is susceptible, irritable, and easily loses his temper."
"On the contrary, madame. I know M. de Guiche to be very patient, and never susceptible or irritable except upon very good grounds."
"But is not friendship a just ground?" said the princess.
"Oh, certainly, madame; and particularly for a heart like his."
"Very good: you will not deny, I suppose, that M. de Bragelonne is M. de Guiche's friend?"
"A very great friend."
"Well, then, M. de Guiche has taken M. de Bragelonne's part; and as M. de Bragelonne was absent and could not fight, he fought for him."
Manicamp began to smile, and moved his head and shoulders very slightly, as much as to say. "Oh, if you will positively have it so—"
"But speak, at all events," said the princess, out of patience: "speak!"
"I?"
"Of course; it is quite clear you are not of my opinion, and that you have something to say."
"I have only one thing to say, Madame."
"Name it."
"That I do not understand a single word of what you have just been telling me."
"What!—you do not understand a single word about M. de Guiche's quarrel with M. de Wardes!" exclaimed the princess, almost out of temper.
Manicamp remained silent.
"A quarrel," she continued, "which arose out of a conversation scandalous in its tone and purport, and more or less well founded, respecting the virtue of a certain lady."
"Ah! of a certain lady—that is quite another thing," said Manicamp.
"You begin to understand, do you not?"
"Your highness will excuse me, but I dare not—"
"You
