Next day the cathedral was thronged with ladies. The service proceeded as usual, but the bishop was not present.
“How is the bishop?” was whispered from one lady to another, with conscious glances; till the query reached the ears of one of the canons who was at the door.
“His Holiness is very ill,” he answered. “He has retired to the monastery of St. James.”
“What is the matter with him?”
“He is suffering from severe pains internally.”
“Physicians have been sent for.”
For eight days the good old prelate lingered in great suffering.
“Tell me,” he asked very feebly; “tell me truly, what is my complaint?”
“Your Holiness has been poisoned,” replied the physician.