will
perish before our eyes."

"Patience, sire," I said. "He will come."

"But in the meantime the man dies."

"No, no," I said, going to La Trape, and touching his hand. "Yet, he is
very cold." And turning, I sent the page to hasten the doctor. Then I
begged the King to allow me to have the man conveyed into another room.
"His sufferings distress you, sire, and you do him no good," I said.

"No, he shall not go!" he answered. "Ventre Saint Gris! man, he is
dying for me! He is dying in my place. He shall die here."

Still ill satisfied, I was about to press him farther, when La Trape
raised his voice, and feebly asked for me. A page who had taken the
other's place was supporting his head, and two or three of my
gentlemen, who had come in unbidden, were looking on with scared faces.
I went to the poor fellow's side, and asked what I could do for him.

"I am dying!" he muttered, turning up his eyes. "The doctor! the
doctor!"

I feared that he was passing, but I bade him have courage. "In a
moment he will be here," I said; while the King in distraction sent
messenger on messenger.

"He will come too late," the sinking man answered. "Excellency?"

"Yes, my good fellow," I said, stooping that I might hear him the
better.

"I took ten pistoles yesterday from a man to get him a scullion's
place; and there is none vacant."

"It is forgiven," I said, to soothe him.

"And your excellency's favourite hound, Diane," he gasped. "She had
three puppies, not two. I sold the other."

"Well, it is forgiven, my friend. It is forgiven. Be easy," I said
kindly.

"Ah, I have been a villain," he groaned. "I have lived loosely. Only
last night I kissed the butler's wench, and--"

"Be easy, be easy," I said. "Here is the doctor. He will save you
yet."

And I made way for M. Du Laurens, who, having saluted the King, knelt
down by the sick man, and felt his pulse; while we all stood round,
looking down on the two with grave faces. It seemed to me that the
man's eyes were growing dim, and I had little hope. The King was the
first to break the silence. "You have hope?" he said. "You can save
him?"

"Pardon, sire, a moment," the physician answered, rising from his
knees. "Where is the cat?"

Someone brought it, and M. Du Laurens, after looking at it, said
curtly, "It has been poisoned."

La Trape uttered a groan of despair. "At what hour did it take the
milk?" the physician asked.

"A little bef