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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"From the Memoirs of a Minister of France"

He had sunk upon a chest which stood against
the wall, and, with his body strangely twisted, was muttering
prayers, while he rocked himself to and fro unceasingly.
"It's stiff," the King said in a low voice. "It has been dead
some hours."
"Since midnight," I muttered.
"Pardon, sire," the page, who was holding the cat, said; "I saw
it after midnight. It was alive then."
"You saw it!" I exclaimed. "How? Where?"
"Here, your excellency," the boy answered, quailing a little.
"What? In this room?"
"Yes, excellency. I heard a noise about--I think about two
o'clock--and his Majesty breathing very heavily, It was a noise
like a cat spitting. It frightened me, and I rose from my pallet
and went round the bed. I was just in time to see the cat jump
down."
"From the bed?"
"Yes, your excellency. From his Majesty's chest, I think."
"And you are sure that it was this cat?"
"Yes, sire; for as soon as it was on the floor it began to writhe
and roll and bite itself, with all its fur on end, like a mad
cat.


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