"I feel well, completely well," she said, as the doctor rubbed some drops a second time on her temple. "I feel easier than I have felt for a long time."
"Give me your hand," said the doctor. "Rise up, for you are well. Let us go into the chamber of the poor boy, for I have to speak with you there."
He walked toward the chamber-door, leading Jeanne Marie by the hand, while Simon followed them. Softly and silently they entered the dark room, and went to the mattress on which the child lay.
The boy stared at them with great, wide-opened eyes, but they were without expression and life, and only the breath, as it came slowly and heavily from the half-opened lips, showed that there was vitality still in this poor, little, shrunken form.
The doctor kneeled down beside the bed, and, bending over it, pressed a long, fervent kiss on the delicate, hot hand of the child. But Charles Louis remained motionless; he merely slowly dropped his lids and closed his eyes.
"You see, doctor, he neither hears nor sees," said Simon, in a low, growling voice. "He cares for nothing, and does not know any thing about what is going on around him. It is a week since he spoke a word."
"Not since the day when you wanted to compel the child to sing the song that makes sport of his mother."
"He did not sing it?" asked the doctor, with a tremulous voice.
"He is a mulish little toad," cried Simon, angrily. "I begged him at first, then I threatened, and when prayers and threats were of no use I punished him, as a naughty boy deserves when he will not do what his foster-father bids him do. But even blows did not bring him to it; the obstinate youngster would not sing the merry song with me, and since then he has not spoken a word. [Footnote: Historical.- -See Beauehesne'a "Histoirede Louis XVII.," vol. ii.] He seems as if he had grown deaf and dumb as a punishment for not obeying his good foster-father."
"He is neither deaf nor dumb," said the doctor, solemnly. "He is simply a good son, who would not sing the song which made sport of his noble and unfortunate mother. See whether I am not right: see these tears which run from his closed eyes. He has heard us, he has understood us, and he answers us with his tears! Oh, sire," he continued passionately, "by the sacred remembrance of your father and your mother, I swear devotion to you until death; I swear that I have come to set you free, to die for you. Look up, my king and my darling one! I intrust to you and to both these witnesses my whole secret; I let the mask fall to show myself to you in my true form, that you may confide in me, and know that the most devoted of your servants is kneeling before you, and that he dedicates his life to you. Open your eyes, Louis of France, and see whether you know me!"