"I did not ask you yesterday if Monsieur de Guise had returned from Italy."
"He is on the way, Monseigneur," said Aloyse, in amazement.
"That is well! What day of the month is it, nurse?"
"Tuesday, August 4, Monseigneur."
"It will be two months on the 7th since I have been lying on this bed of anguish," was Gabriel's comment.
"Oh," cried Aloyse, trembling, "how well Monseigneur remembers!"
"Yes, I remember, Aloyse,—I remember; but," he added sadly, "though I have not forgotten, it seems that I have been forgotten. Has no one been to inquire for me, Aloyse?"
"Yes, indeed!" said Aloyse, in an uncertain voice, and anxiously watching the effect of her words on the young man's face,—"yes, indeed, Monseigneur! a maid named Jacinthe came twice a day to learn how you were. But for the last fortnight, since you have been perceptibly and surely improving, she has come no more."
"She comes no more! And do you know why, nurse?"
"Yes, Monseigneur. Because her mistress, according to what Jacinthe said the last time she came, has obtained the king's leave to withdraw to a convent till the end of the war at least."