It was a sublime moment. Without a word from the great surgeon, every one understood that once more there was hope. The duke's attendants wept hot tears of joy, and some even kissed the skirt of Ambroise Paré's coat.
But no one spoke, waiting for him to say the first word.
He spoke at last, his grave voice trembling with emotion,—
"I will answer now for the life of Monseigneur de Guise."
In an hour, in truth, the duke had recovered consciousness, and even the power of speech.
Ambroise Paré finished dressing the wound; and Gabriel was standing beside the bed to which the surgeon had caused his august patient to be removed.
"So, Gabriel," said the duke, "I owe to you not only the taking of Calais, but my life as well; for it seems that you brought Master Paré to my bedside almost by force."
"Yes, Monseigneur," Ambroise interposed; "save for Monsieur d'Exmès's intervention, they would not have allowed me to come near you."
"God bless my two saviors!" said François de Lorraine.
"I implore you not to talk so much, Monseigneur," said the surgeon.