"I sustain his views," added the Duke of Schomberg. "We must advance. Let us promise protection to the Waldenses, and so foment civil discord among the enemy. To create disaffection in the enemy's country is good policy—and it is a policy that will bear us on to Paris."
"We are of the same mind," said the other officers, who had kept silence.
And now ensued another pause. The casting vote on this momentous question was to be given by Victor Amadeus. He had recovered his strength in a wonderful manner, for his face had lost its pallor, his eyes their dimness, and his whole countenance beamed with resolution.
"Gentlemen," cried he, as, in his excitement, he rose from his chair, "to youth belong fame and conquest; to youth belongs the strength that casts away impediments, and overleaps all hindrances to success. Forgive us, who, being young, thirst for glory, and long to quench that thirst in the sparkling waters of military success. Forgive me, you who are satiated with ambition gratified, if, rather than be discreet with you, I would be rash with my young kinsman. I am of Prince Eugene's opinion. Nothing hinders our march to Grenoble. I am impatient—"
Suddenly he paused, and grasped the arms of the chair. A shudder pervaded his whole body, and, with a convulsive gasp, he fell hack, apparently insensible.
The assembly broke up in confusion. Physicians were summoned, and, at their bidding, the duke was slowly borne back into his chamber. His head was enveloped in damp cloths, his temples were rubbed with stimulants, and, after various restoratives had been applied, he slowly opened his eyes, and looked bewildered about him. Nobody was near except Doctor Mirazzi. The other physicians had retired to the embrasure of a bay-window, and the lackeys had gathered about the door, where they were awaiting further orders from their superiors. All this the duke had seen at a glance. He closed his eyes again, but, as he did so, he made a sign to Doctor Mirazzi.
The latter bent his head to listen, but in such a manner as to convey the idea that he was watching his patient's fluttering breath.
"Dismiss them all," whispered the sick man.
The doctor gave no ostensible sign of having heard. He still kept his ear to the patient's mouth; then, after a while, he placed it close to his heart. The examination at an end, he went on tiptoes toward the window where his colleagues were standing.
"He sleeps," whispered he. "When he awakes, his malady will probably declare itself. I will remain here to watch him; it is unnecessary for you to confine yourselves with me in this close sick-room. Will you oblige me by returning this evening for a consultation?"