Prince Sovrani caught the words.

“When she wakes!” he cried, “Poor boy, you do not know what you say!  She will never wake!  She is dead!”

But Manuel was bending closely over the couch, and looking earnestly into Angela’s quiet face.  Cardinal Bonpre watched him wonderingly.  And the old Prince stood, arrested as it were in the very midst of his wrath and sorrow by some force more potent than even the spirit of vengeance.  The sobbing servants held their breath—­and all stared as if fascinated at the young boy, as after a pause, he took Angela’s hand that hung so inertly down, in one of his own, and with the other felt her heart.  Then he spoke.

“She is not dead!” he said simply,—­“She has only swooned.  Let someone fetch a physician to attend her—­see!—­she breathes!”

With a wild, half-smothered cry Prince Sovrani sprang forward to see for himself if this blessed news was true.  He and the Cardinal both, seized with a passionate anxiety, gazed and gazed at the fair beloved face in hope, in fear and longing,—­and still Manuel stood beside the couch, stroking the small hand he held with thoughtful care and tenderness.  All at once a faint sigh parted the sweet lips,—­the bosom heaved with a struggle for breath.  Her father fell on his knees, overcome, and hiding his face in his hands sobbed aloud in the intensity of his relief and joy, while the Cardinal murmured a devout ‘Thank God!’ A few minutes passed, and still the fluttering uncertain breathings came and went, and still Manuel stood by the couch, quietly watchful.  Presently the closed eyelids quivered and lifted,—­and the beautiful true eyes shone star-like out upon the world again!  She stirred, and tried to raise herself, but sank back exhausted in the effort.  Then seeing the Cardinal, she smiled,—­and her gaze wandered slowly to the bent, white-haired figure crouching beside her, whose whole frame was shaken by sobs.

“Father!” she murmured—­“Dearest father!  What is it?”

He lifted his tear-stained, agonised face, and seeing that the tender eyes regarding him were full of fear and wonder as well as love, he instantly controlled himself, and rising from his knees, kissed her gently.

“I thought you were dead, my darling!” he said softly—­“Hush now—­do not speak!  Lie quite still!  You are hurt a little,—­you must rest!—­ you will be better,—­much better presently!”

But Angela’s looks had again wandered, and now they were fixed on Manuel.  Over her whole face there came a sudden life and radiance.

“Manuel!” she said eagerly—­“Manuel, stay with me!  Do not leave me!”

Manuel smiled in answer to her appealing eyes, and came nearer.

“Do not fear!” he said—­“I will stay!”

She closed her eyes again restfully, and her breathing grew lighter and easier.  Just then one of the servants entered with the physician who was accustomed to attend the Sovrani household.  His arrival roused Angela completely,—­she became quite conscious, and evidently began to remember something of what had happened.  The doctor raised her to see where she was injured, and quickly cutting away her blood-stained vesture, tenderly and carefully examined the wound.