"A doctor, for Heaven's sake, and at once!" said Nagato. "My betrothed has stabbed herself, to escape the outrages of the infamous Tosa; she is dying."
Fatkoura had fainted.
The palace doctor soon came. He bared the wound, and when he saw it, he looked anything but encouraging. "She did not spare herself," he said.
"Can she be saved?" asked the Prince of Nagato.
The doctor shook his head. "I think not," said he; "the steel went in too deep. If I were to dress the wound, I might stanch the blood; but it would still flow from within, and suffocate her."
"And if you do not stanch the wound?"
"She will die in a very few moments."
The doctor brought the edges of the wound together. As he touched the sensitive spot, Fatkoura never stirred. He shook his head again. "A bad sign," he muttered.
When the dressing was done, he forced between the young woman's lips the neck of a small bottle holding a strengthening cordial, and made her drink it. Fatkoura soon re-opened her eyes; she still lay across Nagato's knees. Tika sobbed at her feet. She cast an uneasy look at those who filled the room; with a slow and painful gesture signed to them to go. Signenari dismissed them, and withdrew; only the doctor and Tika remained.
"You disobeyed me, Iwakura," said the dying girl in a voice which grew ever weaker; "why did you call in help?"