“Well, why not?” replied Leoni. “Surely, after all my slavery of brain, when success shines down upon me I have a right to smile.”
“Success!” cried Saint Simon bitterly. “Why, you have failed.”
“Hah!” said Leoni, with a peculiar smile; and then after a short pause, “Well, boy, what are we to do for food? This water is beautifully limpid and clear to quench our thirst, but it will not appease hunger.”
“I’ll go ashore at the first hostelry we see, and buy what we want,” replied Saint Simon.
“And expose us to fresh capture? No, boy; we have had enough of hostelries. Every one within reach of the river will be searched. We shall have to fast till we are far enough to venture ashore.”
“And the King?” said Saint Simon.
Leoni looked at him curiously, and slowly placed his hand within his breast to draw out the little golden flask, which he tapped with his finger-nails.
“Three parts gone,” he said; “but enough left for the Comte’s use. A few drops will quell his hunger; double the quantity will make him sleep in peace. When you can bear your fast no longer, you shall have a few drops in water if you are a good boy.”
“Bah!” growled Saint Simon. “I can bear hunger like a man.”
The day glided by in perfect peace, the two rowers resting from the past night’s labours, and the King sleeping as quietly as a child; while from time to time as Saint Simon glanced at him sadly, thinking of how he and Leoni had been the cause of all the trouble to his friend, he could not help a growing feeling of admiration within his breast as he saw how able the doctor’s ministrations were, as shown by the way in which he had treated his master’s serious wound.