"No," sighed Eugene; "I was unjust. But I have lost her, and that loss is killing me."
"You hear him," whispered the doctor, while the nun, scarcely able to hold the glass, presented it to the lips of her patient.
"Drink, Prince Eugene," said she, in low, trembling tones. At the sound of her voice he started, and raised his head to listen.
"Great Heaven! Who spoke?"
The doctor smiled, and, slightly raising his shoulders, replied:
"Nobody but Sister Angelica, I presume, for nobody else is here."
"Sister Angelica!" repeated Eugene, slowly. "I thought she had made a vow of silence, to last until her return to the convent?"
"You are quite right; but it appears that she has forgotten herself for a moment, in her anxiety to serve you. Drink, then, to oblige her."
Eugene clutched the glass and emptied it of its contents.
"Good," said the doctor. "Now that you are somewhat refreshed, I must entertain you with a little outside gossip. I have letters from Turin to-day. Victor Amadeus has disenthralled himself from his filial bondage. His mother, having been regent during his minority, has been struggling since his majority to retain her supremacy over him and the duchy. She insisted upon taking precedence of her daughter-in-law, the reigning duchess, and was equally bent upon dismissing one of the ministers. There was considerable strife, and no little intrigue in Turin, until the defection of one of the dowager's adherents, which so strengthened the opposite party, that she was obliged to succumb, and retired in high dudgeon to her estates. The duke, on his side, out of gratitude to his new friend, has created him prime minister—an appointment which is very popular in Savoy—for there is not a worthier man in the dukedom than the Marquis de Bonaletta."
At sound of this name, Eugene started up, and leaning his head upon his hand, prepared to listen.