A clock has just struck the half hour after nine; perhaps the last thought in Frederick’s mind, as he is lying there listening to Desnoyer’s music, is of the God he is so soon to meet. The hand of the clock creeps on to the quarter; it is nearly a quarter to ten.
Suddenly the music stops. Frederick is taken with a violent fit of coughing; when it ceases, Dr. Wilmot comes to the bedside.
“I trust Your Royal Highness will be better now, and pass a quiet night.”
The Princess comes to the foot of the bed and leans over it; Dr. Hawkins approaches the Prince with a candle and gazes anxiously at him; at last he sees something which alarms him, the cough breaks out again with increased violence, Desnoyer places his arms round the Prince and raises him in the bed to relieve him, as he does so the Prince shivers and cries out:—
“Je sens la mort!” (I feel death.)
Desnoyers alarmed, cries out to the Princess at the foot of the bed:—
“Madame, the Prince is going.” She rushes round to the head of the bed and bends over her husband.
It is over; he is dead.
And from the next room comes a burst of laughter from the card players.