"You are suffering?" she said.
"No, Motteville, no; why do you say that?"
"Your majesty almost groaned just now."
"You are right; I did sigh, in truth."
"Monsieur Vallot is not far off; I believe he is in Madame's apartment."
"Why is he with Madame?"
"Madame is troubled with nervous attacks."
"A very fine disorder, indeed! There is little good in M. Vallot being there, when another physician instead would cure Madame."
Madame de Motteville looked up with an air of great surprise, as she replied, "Another doctor instead of M. Vallot?—whom do you mean?"
"Occupation, Motteville, occupation. If any one is really ill it is my poor daughter."