For a moment we were all silent. Then I looked at the King, and
he at me, with gloomy meaning in our eyes. He was the first to
speak. "The cat to whom you gave the milk?" he said.
"Yes, sire," La Trape answered, in a voice that seemed to come
from his heart.
"But still, courage!" the King cried. "Courage, man! A dose
that would kill a cat may not kill a man. Do you feel ill?"
"Oh, yes, sire," La Trape moaned.
"What do you feel?"
"I have a trembling in all my limbs, and ah--ah, my God, I am a
dead man! I have a burning here--a pain like hot coals in my
vitals!" And, leaning against the wall, the unfortunate man
clasped his arms round his body and bent himself up and down in a
paroxysm of suffering.
"A doctor! a doctor!" Henry cried, thrusting one leg out of bed.
"Send for Du Laurens!" Then, as I went to the door to do so, "Can
you be sick, man?" he asked. "Try!"
"No, no; it is impossible!"
"But try, try! when did this cat die?"
"It is outside," La Trape groaned. He could say no more.
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