“I feel no pain,” I answered, “but am very weak.”
“No pain in the head, eh? Well, that is good. Come, now, let me see the wound,” and he untied the bandage from about my temples, held up my head and apparently examined a wound at the back. “Upon my word,” he said, after a moment, replacing the bandage, “I have never seen anything prettier. Ah, monsieur, it is pure blood that tells, and you are an ideal patient. Why, that stab you received in the shoulder the other day has left nothing but a scar, and in a week from now this little scratch will have ceased to trouble you.”
“But what is it?” I asked, scarcely able to restrain my impatience while this examination was in progress. “I was shot, I know that; but how did I get here, and where am I and what has been done with my friends?”
“One question at a time, M. de Brancas,” and Levau stood smiling down at me. “You were brought back to Paris from the place on the roadside where the bullet which struck you in the head laid you. This is the Hotel Dieu, and you have to thank the nursing of Sister Angelica here that you are alive to-day. The bullet did not enter the skull, but simply stunned you,—a glance blow. It looked for a time, however, as though you were never going to open your eyes again. You had also a bullet in your shoulder, but that was a mere nothing.”
“How long have I been here, then?” I asked.
“Six days, monsieur,” and Levau still smiled.
“Six days!” I gasped. “But tell me, monsieur, what has become of Richelieu, of Madame du Maine, and of all the others.”
“Now there, M. de Brancas, you are getting beyond me,” and Levau waved his hands deprecatingly. “I do not meddle with politics. When you ask me concerning your injury I have my answers ready on my lips, but when you go into politics I am all at sea. But wait a moment,” he added, kindly; “I think I can bring you some one who has inquired after you every day and who can answer all these questions,” and he left the room. In a moment he returned, bringing with him a man, who rushed towards my bed, his face alight with pleasure.
“D’Ancenis!” I cried.
“Yes, de Brancas, it is I,” and the marquis took my hand with the heartiest of clasps. “I cannot tell how pleased I am to hear that you will soon be well again. I had just come to inquire after you when Levau was summoned by the nurse, and I was imagining the most horrible things when he returned with the news that you are so much better.”