“You are not dying; I will not believe it—”
He seemed afraid to come too near to her; she spoke calmly, with a world of wild feeling in her eyes.
“You know I am not afraid of death–but I am afraid of losing your good thoughts—”
“Talk of God, Madame,” he replied hoarsely.
“Louis–I am dying,” she said. “Come and speak to me–close.”
She made a little feeble movement with her hand, and the King came up to her bed.
“I am poisoned,” she repeated; it seemed she wished to drive him to accept the statement to accuse some one.
“You show great courage, Madame,” he said, and looked at her in a terrified manner.
“I have never been afraid,” she repeated, “but I do not want to die.”
“I will see your doctors,” he said. “There must be some remedy.”