An elderly, bearded man in black was observing him, and some one whom he could not see was bathing his brow with a cool aromatic liquid. As he fetched a sigh that filled his lungs and quickened his senses into full consciousness, the man smiled.
'There! It will be well with him now. But he should be put to bed.'
'It shall be done,' said the woman who was bathing his brow, and her voice, soft and subdued, was the voice of the Princess Valeria. 'His servants will be below by now. Send them to me as you go.'
The man bowed and went out. Slowly Bellarion turned his head, and looked up in wonder at the Princess with whom he was now alone. Her eyes, more liquid than their wont, smiled wistfully down upon him.
'Madonna!' he exclaimed. 'Do you serve me as a handmaid? That is not ...'
'You are thinking it an insufficient return for your service to me. But you must give me time, sir, this is only a beginning.'
'I am not thinking that at all.'
'Then you are not thinking as you should. You are weak. Your wits work slowly. Else you might remember that for five years, in which you have been my loyal, noble, unswerving friend, I, immured in my stupidity, have been your enemy.'
'Ah!' he smiled. I knew I should convince you in the end. Such knowledge gives us patience. A man may contain his soul for anything that is assured. It is the doubtful only that makes him fret and fume.'
'And you never doubted?' she asked him, wondering.