"Welcome, my most noble lord, the king," he said in a weak voice; "this is indeed most kind of your majesty to visit your poor cousin, whom duty would have called to your feet long ago, had not sore sickness kept him prisoner. But, alas! from this bed I cannot move--never shall again, I fear."
Charles seated himself by the unhappy young man's side, and kindly took his hand. They were first cousins; their age was nearly the same, and well might the young monarch's bosom thrill with compassion and sympathy for the unhappy duke.
"I grieve," said the king, "to see you so very ill, fair cousin; but I trust you will be better soon, the heats of summer have probably exhausted you, and----"
Giovan Galeazzo shook his head almost impatiently, and turned a meaning look upon his uncle.
"Has this continued long?" asked the king.
"It began with my entrance into this accursed fortress," replied the youth, "now some two years ago. It has been slow, but very, very certain. Day by day, hour by hour, it has preyed upon me, till there is not a sound part left."
"He fancies that the air disagrees with him," said Ludovic the Moor, "but the physicians say it is not so; and we have had so many tumults and insurrections in the land, that, for his own safety, it is needful he should make his residence in some strong place."
"For my safety!" murmured the unhappy duke; "for my destruction. Tumults, ay, tumults--would I could strike the instigator of them! 'Tis not alone the air, good uncle; 'tis the water also. 'Tis everything I eat and drink in this hateful place."
"The caprice of sickness, believe me, nephew," answered Ludovic, bending his heavy brows upon him. "You are too ill to have appetite."
"Ay, but I have thirst enough," replied the young man; "one must eat and drink, you know, my lord the king. Would it were not so."