"Alas! this is not all," said Pazza.
"What, more?" cried the king, rising.
"Oh, aunt, I am dying!" exclaimed Pazza. By dint of care, however, she was restored to life; and, turning her languishing eyes toward the king, "Sire," said she, "the gipsy girl at the masked ball, who dared to box your ears—"
"Was yourself, Pazza?" said charming. "Oh, I forgive you for that; I well deserved it. How could I doubt you, who are sincerity itself! But, now I think of it, do you remember the rash vow that you made on the night of our marriage? You have kept your promise; it is for me to keep mine. Pazza, make haste to recover, and return to the castle from which happiness fled with you."
"I have a last favor to ask of Your Majesty," said Pazza. "Rachimburg was the witness this morning of a scene for which I blush, and of which all must remain ignorant. I commend this faithful servant to your goodness."
"Rachimburg," said the king, "take this purse, and keep the secret under penalty of your head."
"That makes the fourth," whispered Rachimburg to himself; "my fortune is made."
In a few moments Pazza was asleep. "Do you think that she will recover?" asked Charming, anxiously, of the countess.
"Bah!" said the old lady. "No matter how ill a woman may be, happiness will bring her back from the brink of the grave. Kiss the queen, my nephew; it will do her more good than all the doctors in the world."
Charming stooped and kissed the sleeping Pazza. An angelic smile stole over her features, at the sight of which he wept like a child.