It was after midnight when Pirouette allowed Abigail and Tata Sous-sus to conduct her to her own suite in the palace. As she passed through the door of the King’s bedchamber, several courtiers fell to their knees and shouted, “Long live the Queen!”
“I’m not Queen yet, my lords and ladies.” One of the King’s physicians stood behind Pirouette and she then turned to him and said, “You told us that His Majesty would be dead over six hours ago.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulling at his long, gray beard. ” But His Majesty has always had a strong constitution. He clings to life the way a babe clings to its mother’s breast.”
The grind of being chief among the death-watchers was becoming too much for Pirouette. “Oh, yes! I’ve often been told by you, yourself and many of your colleagues that medicine is an inexact science. Tata Sous-sus? Do you have your bible?”
“Of course, my dear,” answered Tata.
“Read me something comforting while we go back to my rooms.”