Nor did he,
for when he had swallowed, as far as I could judge from the
tilting of the cup, about half of the milk, Henry rose suddenly
and, seizing it, took it from him with his own hand.
"That will do," the King said. "Do you feel ill?"
La Trape drew a trembling hand across his brow, on which the
sweat stood in beads; but instead of answering he remained
silent, gazing fixedly before him. We waited and watched, and at
length, when I should think three minutes had elapsed, he changed
his position for one of greater ease, and I saw his face relax.
The unnatural pallor faded, and the open lips closed. A minute
later he spoke. "I feel nothing, sire," he said.
The King looked at me drolly. "Then take five minutes more," he
said. "Go, and stare at Judith there, cutting off the head of
Holofernes"--for that was the story of the tapestry--"and come
when I call you."
La Trape went to the other end of the chamber. "Well," the King
said, inviting me by a sign to sit down beside him, "is it a
comedy or a tragedy, my friend? Or, tell me, what was it he
meant when he said that about the other milk?"
I explained, the matter seeming so trivial now that I came to
tell it--though it; had doubtless contributed much to La Trape's
fright--that I had to apologize.
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