The doctor continued: "By-the-by, he is the uncle of the unfortunate young marchioness of that name who was forced into a marriage with a depraved Venetian nobleman called Strozzi. Your highness has heard her history?"
Eugene murmured something in reply, and sank back upon his pillow.
"A very melancholy affair," pursued the doctor, signing to the nun to approach, "and it has ended most singularly."
"Ended! How?" cried Eugene. "Speak, doctor, I implore you: is she dead?"
"She? The marchioness? Quite the contrary, she is alive and well. Her husband suddenly disappeared with her from Venice, last spring; and it was discovered that he had confined her within a solitary castle, somewhere in a forest; having previously given out to the world that she was a raving lunatic."
"The accursed liar!" muttered Eugene. "May God grant me life to avenge her wrongs!"
"Your highness is much moved at the recital," continued the doctor, "and no wonder, for it is a fact much stranger than fiction. But I will defer the conclusion of my story to some other day. You are too much excited to hear it now."
"Oh no, indeed! I am strong—well. Look at me, doctor; and believe me when I say that your conversation is more healing than all the medicines you have ever administered."
"In truth, your highness seems quite invigorated within the last half hour. Do you not perceive the change, Sister Angelica?"
She bowed her head, and approached the couch.