"I fear," said the surgeon, "that his highness is attacked with nervous fever; his symptoms indicate it. He passed a restless night, and is suffering from intense headache. He must not be excited; he can therefore see nobody."
"But he has sent for me," objected Eugene.
The surgeon shook his head. "Your highness has heard my opinion, and, if you approach him, it must be on your own responsibility."
"I am a soldier," replied Eugene, smiling, "and must obey orders. I have been sent for by the general, and must at least be announced."
At this moment the hangings of the inner tent were drawn aside, and
Martin, the duke's old valet, came forward.
"Am I wanted?" asked the surgeon.
"No, sir," replied Martin. "His excellency bade me see if the—Ah! There he is! Your highness, the duke begs your presence at once, and requests these gentlemen to leave the tent until his conference with your highness is at an end. He is very nervous, and the least rustling affects his head."
"Just as I feared," sighed the surgeon. "Martin, in one hour I shall return, to change the cold compress."
Eugene entered the sleeping apartment of the duke, and his pleasure at being admitted to see his commander, was changed into anxiety, when he beheld the pale, careworn face of the duke, and saw his head enveloped in bandages.
"Martin, have they left the tent?" inquired he, languidly.