he 28th of June she
asked for a cup of chicory, drank it, and at the same moment became red,
then pale, and shrieked aloud. The poor Duchess, commonly so patient
under pain, gave way under the excess of her anguish, her eyes filled
with tears, and she exclaimed that she was dying.

Inquiries were made about the water the Duchess had drunk, and her
waiting-woman said that she had not prepared it herself, but had ordered
it to be made, and then asked that some of it might be given her, drank
of it; but there is no evidence to show that the water had not been
changed in the interval.

Was it an attack of cholera, as was said? The symptoms in no wise
indicated that species of disorder. The Duchess's health was very much
shattered, and she was doubtless liable to be rapidly carried off. But
the event had very plainly been hastened (as in the case of Don Carlos);
nature had been assisted. The Duke's valets--who were, as to fidelity,
much more the servants of his banished favourite, the Chevalier de
Lorraine--comprehended that, in the approaching alliance of the two
kings, and the need they would have of each other's confidence, the
Duchess might in some moment of tenderness recover her absolute power
over the King, who would in such event sweep his brother's household
clear of them all. They well knew the Court, and surmised that, if she
were to die, the alliance would nevertheless be maintained, and the
matter hushed up; that she would be lamented, but not avenged; that
facts accomplished would be respected.

Good care was taken not to confide the secret to the wretched Duke, her
husband; it was even thought that it might be possible to get him out of
the way--to keep him in Paris, where by chance, indeed, he was detained.
Philip of Orleans was really astonished when he beheld his agonised
wife, and ordered an antidote to be given her; but time was lost in
administering the _poudre de vipere_. The Duchess asked only for an
emetic, and the doctors obstinately refused her one. Strange, too, the
King, who, on his arrival, remonstrated with them, was equally
unsuccessful in obtaining for the sufferer that which she craved. The
medicos held steadily to their opinion: they had pronounced it to be
cholera, and they would not swallow their own words.

Were they in the plot? That did not follow. For, besides the
professional pride which forbade them to belie themselves, they might
fear to discover more than they wished--to act in