“What is the matter?” asked the lecturer.
“She has fainted!”
“Who? are you mad?”
“A lady,” answered Gilbert, quickly.
His pallor and his alarm would have betrayed him as badly as his cry of “She” but Jussieu had looked off in the other direction.
He saw Andrea fallen on a garden seat, ready to give up the last sensible breath.
It was the time when the King had the habit of paying the Dauphin a visit and came through this way. He suddenly appeared, holding a hothouse peach, with a true selfish king’s wonder, thinking whether it would not be better for the welfare of France that he should enjoy it rather than the princess.
“What is the matter?” he cried as he saw the two men racing towards the swooning girl whom he vaguely distinguished but did not recognize, thanks to his weak sight.
“The King!” exclaimed Jussieu, holding Andrea in his arms.
“The King!” murmured she, swooning away in earnest this time.