“You will tell him.”
“I?”
“Yes; are you not his friend?”
“I? oh, no, Madame; I will only tell M. de Guiche—if, indeed, he is still in a condition to hear me—I will only tell him what I have seen; that is, your cruelty to him.”
“Oh, monsieur, you will not be guilty of such barbarity!”
“Indeed, Madame, I shall speak the truth, for nature is very energetic in a man of his age. The physicians are clever men, and if, by chance, the poor comte should survive his wound, I should not wish him to die of a wound of the heart, after surviving one of the body.” Manicamp rose, and with an expression of profoundest respect, seemed to be desirous of taking leave.
“At least, monsieur,” said Madame, stopping him with almost a suppliant air, “you will be kind enough to tell me in what state your wounded friend is, and who is the physician who attends him?”
“As regards the state he is in, Madame, he is seriously ill; his physician is M. Valot, his majesty’s private medical attendant. M. Valot is moreover assisted by a professional friend, to whose house M. de Guiche has been carried.”
“What! he is not in the chateau?” said Madame.
“Alas, Madame! the poor fellow was so ill, that he could not even be conveyed thither.”