The doctor left his patient and approached the queen.
“You are right, doctor,” said she; “this young man would incur a terrible danger if he were overheard.”
But just then Charny said, in a gentler voice:
“Marie, I feel that you love me, but I will say nothing about it. Marie, I felt the touch of your foot in the coach; your hand touched mine, but I will never tell; I will keep this secret with my life. My blood may all flow away, Marie, but my secret shall not escape with it. My enemy steeped his sword in my blood, but if he has guessed my secret, yours is safe. Fear nothing, Marie, I do not even ask you if you love me; you blushed, that is enough.”
“Oh!” thought the doctor; “this sounds less like delirium than like memory.”
“I have heard enough,” cried the queen, rising and trembling violently; and she tried to go.
The doctor stopped her. “Madame,” said he, “what do you wish?”
“Doctor, I cannot think; this dreadful spectacle has confused me.”
“I think you have caught his fever,” said the doctor, feeling her pulse.
The doctor remained thoughtful, then said to himself,—“There are other difficulties here besides those I can contend with by science.” He bathed again the temples of his patient, who for the time began to grow calmer.
All at once the doctor heard the rustling of a dress outside. “Can it be the queen returned?” thought he; and opening the door softly, he saw before him the motionless figure of a woman, looking like a statue of despair. It was almost dark; he advanced suddenly along the corridor to the place where the figure was standing. On seeing him, she uttered a cry.
“I, doctor!” replied a sweet and sorrowful voice—a voice that he knew but could not immediately recognize. “I, Andrée de Taverney,” continued she.
“Oh, mon Dieu! what is the matter?” cried the doctor; “is she ill?”
The doctor felt that he had committed an imprudence.
“Excuse me, but I saw a lady going away just now, perhaps it was you.”
“Oh, yes, there has been a lady here before me, has there not?” asked Andrée, in a tone of emotion.
“My dear child,” replied the doctor, “of whom do you speak? what do you want to know?”
“Doctor,” answered Andrée, in a sorrowful voice, “you always speak the truth, do not deceive me now; I am sure there was a woman here before me.”