The Mesmerist's Victim

  CHAPTER XXXIII.

  THE FAINTING FITS.

  Andrea was in her room, giving a final touch to her rebellious curlswhen she heard the step of her father, who appeared as she crossed thesill of the antechamber with a book under her arm.

  "Good morning, Andrea," said the baron; "going out, I see."

  "I am going to the Dauphiness who expects me."

  "Alone?"

  "Since Nicole ran away, I have no attendant."

  "But you cannot dress yourself alone; no lady ever does it: I advisedyou quite another course."

  "Excuse me, but the Dauphiness awaits---- "

  "My child, you will get yourself ridiculed if you go on like this andridicule is fatal at court."

  "I will attend to it, father: but at present the Dauphiness willoverlook the want of an elaborate attire for the haste I show to joinher."

  "Be back soon for I have something serious to say. But you are nevergoing out without a touch of red on the cheeks. They look quite hollowand your eyes are circled with large rings. You will frighten peoplethus."

  "I have no time to do anything more, father."

  "This is odious, upon my word," said Taverney, shrugging his shoulders:"there is only one woman in the world who does not think anything ofherself and I am cursed with her for my daughter. What atrociously badluck! Andrea!"

  But she was already at the foot of the stairs. She turned.

  "At least, say you are not well," he suggested. "That will make youinteresting at all events."

  "There will be no telling lies there, father, for I feel really very illat present."

  "That is the last straw," grumbled the baron. "A sick girl on my hands,with the favor of the King lost and Richelieu cutting me dead! Plaguetake the nun!" he mumbled.

  He entered his daughter's room to ferret about for some confirmation ofhis suspicions.

  During this time Andrea had been fighting with an unknown indispositionas she made her way through the shrubbery to the Little Trianon.Standing on the threshold, Lady Noailles made her understand that shewas late and that she was looking out for her.

  The titular reader to the Dauphiness, an abbe, was reciting the news,above all desonating on the rumor that a riot had been caused by thescarcity of corn and that five of the ringleaders had been arrested andsent to jail.

  Andrea entered. The Dauphiness was in one of her wayward periods andthis time preferred the gossip to the book; she regarded Andrea as aspoilsport. So she remarked that she ought not to have missed her timeand that things good in themselves were not always good out of season.

  Abashed by the reproach and particularly its injustice, the vice-readerreplied nothing, though she might have said her father detained her andthat her not feeling well had retarded her walk. Oppressed and dazed,she hung her head, and closing her eyes as if about to die, she wouldhave fallen only for the Duchess of Noailles catching her.

  "Oh, dear, she is white as her handkerchief," said the Archduchess; "itis my fault for scolding her. Poor girl, take a seat! Do you think youcould go on with your reading?"

  "Certainly; I hope so, at least."

  But hardly had she cast her eyes on the page before black specks beganto swarm and float before her sight and they made the printindecipherable.

  She turned pale anew; cold perspiration beaded her brow; and the darkring round her eyes with which Taverney had blamed his daughter enlargedso that the princesses exclaimed, as Andrea's faltering made her raiseher head.

  "Again? look, duchess, the poor child must be ill, for she is losing hersenses."

  "The young lady must get home as soon as possible," said the Mistress ofthe Household drily. "Thus commences the small pox."

  The priest rose and stole away on tiptoe, not wanting to risk hisbeauty.

  "Yes," said the Dauphiness, in whose arms the girl came to, "you hadbetter retire, but do not go indoors at once. A stroll in the garden maydo you good. Oh, send me back my abbe, who is yonder among the tulips."

  Andrea was glad to be out doors, but she felt little improved. To reachthe priest she had to make a circuit. She walked with lowered head,heavy with the weight of the strange dulness with which she had sufferedsince rising. She paid no attention to the birds hunting each otheramong the blooming hedges or to the bees humming amid the thyme andlilacs. She did not remark, only a few paces off, Dr. Jussieu giving alesson in gardening to Gilbert. Since the pupil perceived thepromenader, he made but a poor auditor.

  "Oh, heavens!" interrupted he, suddenly extending his arms.

  "What is the matter?" asked the lecturer.

  "She has fainted!"

  "Who? are you mad?"

  "A lady," answered Gilbert, quickly.

  His pallor and his alarm would have betrayed him as badly as his cry of"She" but Jussieu had looked off in the other direction.

  He saw Andrea fallen on a garden seat, ready to give up the lastsensible breath.

  It was the time when the King had the habit of paying the Dauphin avisit and came through this way. He suddenly appeared, holding ahothouse peach, with a true selfish king's wonder, thinking whether itwould not be better for the welfare of France that he should enjoy itrather than the princess.

  "What is the matter?" he cried as he saw the two men racing towards theswooning girl whom he vaguely distinguished but did not recognize,thanks to his weak sight.

  "The King!" exclaimed Jussieu, holding Andrea in his arms.

  "The King!" murmured she, swooning away in earnest this time.

  Approaching, the King knew her at last and exclaimed with a shudder:

  "Again? this is an unheard-of thing! when people have such maladies,they ought to shut themselves up! it is not proper to go dying all overthe house and grounds at all hours of the day and night."

  And on he went, grumbling all sorts of disagreeable things against poorAndrea. Jussieu did not understand the allusion, but seeing Gilbert infear and anxiety, he said:

  "Come along, Gilbert; you are stronger; carry Mdlle. de Taverney to herlodgings."

  "I?" protested Gilbert, quivering; "She would never forgive me fortouching her. No, never!"

  And off he ran, calling for help.

  When the gardeners and some servants came up, they transported the girlto her rooms where they left her in the hands of her father.

  But from another point arrived the Dauphiness, who had heard of thedisaster from the King, and who not only came but brought her physician.

  Dr. Louis was a young man, but he was intelligent.

  "Your highness," he reported to his patroness, "the young lady's maladyis quite natural and not usually dangerous."

  "And do you not prescribe anything?"

  "There is absolutely nothing to be done."

  "Very well; she is luckier than I, for I shall die unless you send methe sleeping pills you promised."

  "I will prepare them myself when I get home."

  When he was gone the princess remained by her reader.

  "Cheer up, my dear Andrea," she said with a kindly smile. "There isnothing serious in your case for the doctor will not prescribe anythingwhatever."

  "I am glad to hear it, but he is a little wrong, for I do not feel atall well, I declare to you."

  "Still the ail cannot be severe at which a doctor laughs. Have a goodsleep, my child; I will send somebody to attend you for I notice thatyou are quite alone. Will you accompany me, my Lord of Taverney?"