"My lord, that would have been my first thought, had I seen the slightest reason for such a step; but, up to the present moment, it would be both useless and unnecessary. And, besides, I should be somewhat tenacious of introducing strangers into the house until I knew whether your orders of yesterday—"
"But how has all this happened?" said Rodolph, interrupting the black. "Who saved me from drowning in that horrid cellar? I have a confused recollection of having heard the Chourineur's voice there; was I mistaken?"
"Not at all mistaken, my lord. But let the brave fellow, to whom all praise is due, relate the affair in which he was the principal actor himself."
"Where is he? Where is he?"
The doctor looked about for the recently elected sick-nurse, and at length found him, thoroughly silenced and shamed by his late tumble, ensconced behind the curtains of the bed.
"Here he is," said the doctor; "he looks somewhat shamefaced."
"Come forward, my brave fellow!" said Rodolph, extending his hand to his preserver.
The confusion of the poor Chourineur was still further increased from having, when behind his curtain, heard the black doctor address Rodolph continually as "my lord," or "your royal highness."
"Approach, my friend,—my deliverer!" said Rodolph, "and give me your hand."
"I beg pardon, sir,—I mean, my lord,—no, highness,—no—"