“Oh, we will see about that,” he answered, his professional air back upon him in an instant. “Three or four days will tell the story.”
“Three or four days? Nonsense!” I exclaimed. “Why, I am strong enough to get out of bed this moment,” and I started as if to rise.
“Patience, patience, monsieur,” and Levau held me back. “Suppose I say to-morrow, provided that you pass a good night and are as much stronger in the morning as I expect you to be?”
“Agreed. And now cannot I have something to eat? I am marvellously hungry.”
“As much as you like,” cried Levau, heartily, and he hurried away to send my supper to me. I did it ample justice and enjoyed it greatly, then lay for a long time thinking over all that d’Ancenis had told me, but more particularly of Louise, and finally dropped asleep.
I felt like a new man the next morning. Save for a little soreness at the back of my head and in my shoulder, and a slight weakness in my legs when I tried to walk, I was as well as ever. My clothing was brought me, and I walked around the room leaning on Levau’s arm. He seemed indefatigable in his attentions, and after ten minutes of this exercise he pronounced himself satisfied with my condition. Breakfast never tasted better than did that one, which Levau ate with me, and as soon as I had swallowed it I was anxious to depart, for Richelieu’s danger weighed heavily upon me, and I knew not how soon the regent might take action. Cartouche’s flight from Paris had cut off all hope of a rescue at the last moment, even had the scoundrel been inclined to aid me, which was now exceeding doubtful, and whatever was to be done must be done by me alone.
After a little demur Levau consented to my departure, provided I would take his carriage and not attempt to walk. I agreed, of course, and was surprised when he prepared to accompany me.
“Is it that I am under arrest?” I asked, an explanation for his extreme attentiveness coming to me suddenly.
“Not at all, monsieur,” he answered, readily. “It is only that I have sworn you shall recover and that my reputation is at stake. I am not going to take any chance of failure.”
“I hope that some day I shall be able to repay you for your kindness, monsieur,” I said, moved by the evident sincerity of the man. “At present I am not able to do so, nor to more than thank the nurse to whom you say I owe my life.”