“One!” she cried; “the whole nation!” and she left him for me.
“What do you do here?” she demanded.
The king put in a word.
“I bring you your physician, madam—our physician. If it had not been for her, your Ferdinando would have lost his mind.”
“Better that than his kingdom,” she answered bitterly, and stood scowling on me. “I understand, madam, I understand. I called you Circe, and not, it seems, without excellent reason.”
“I was persuaded, madam,” I said, raising my head. “My honour is as precious to me as your Majesty’s. If you have no further use for me, I beg your permission to withdraw.”
At which, if you will believe me, this stormy queen ran to a chair, and flinging herself down on it, began to weep violently.
“I am deserted of all,” she cried; “in the hour of my tribulation they all forsake and disown me.”
The king skipped to her and fell on his knees before.
“My soul,” he wept, “all is not yet lost. General Mack”—