Here Rodolph's letter was broken off by these words, almost illegible:
"Clémence, Murphy will conclude this letter! I am lost,—bereft of sense! Ah, the thirteenth of January!"
At the end of this letter Murphy had written as follows:
Madame:—By the order of his royal highness I complete this sorrowful recital. The two letters of monseigneur will have prepared your royal highness for the overwhelming news I have to communicate. Three hours since, whilst monseigneur was writing to your royal highness, I was waiting in the antechamber for a letter to be despatched by a courier, when suddenly I saw the Princess Juliana enter in the greatest consternation.
"Where is his royal highness?" she said to me, in an agitated voice.
"Writing to the grand duchess," I replied.
"Sir Walter," she said, "you must inform monseigneur of a terrible event. You are his friend,—you should tell him; from you the blow may be less terrible!"
I understood all, and thought it most prudent to charge myself with the distressing intelligence. The superior having added that the Princess Amelie was sinking gradually, and that monseigneur must hasten to receive his daughter's last sigh, I went into the duke's room, who saw how pale I was.
"You have some bad news for me?"
"Terrible, monseigneur! But courage! Courage!"