She spoke out some thanks, and he added, ‘They may come any moment, daughter, and that will cheer your little heart, and make you well. Only take courage, child, and here is my good physician, Maitre Bertrand, come to heal you.’
Margaret still held the King’s hand, and sought to detain him. ‘Beau pere, beau pere,’ she said, ‘you will not believe them! You will silence them.’
‘Whom, what, ma mie?’
‘The evil-speakers. Ah! Jamet.’
‘I believe nothing my fair daughter tells me not to believe.’
‘Ah! sire, he speaks against me. He says—’
‘Hush! hush, child. Whoever vexes my daughter shall have his tongue slit for him. But here we must give place to Maitre Bertrand.’
Maitre Bertrand was a fat and stolid personage, who, nevertheless, had a true doctor’s squabble with the Jew Samiel and drove him out. His treatment was to exclude all the air possible, make the patient breathe all sorts of essences, and apply freshly-killed pigeons to the painful side.
Margaret did not mend under this method. She begged for Samiel, who had several times before relieved her in slight illnesses; but she was given to understand that the Dauphin would not permit him to interfere with Maitre Bertrand.
‘Ah!’ she said to Dame Lilias, in their own language, ‘my husband calls Bertrand an old fool! He does not wish me to recover! A childless wife is of no value. He would have me dead! And so would I—if my fame were cleared. If my sisters were found! Oh! my Lord, my Lord, I loved him so!’