'My father will sleep now till the doctor wakes him to give him his medicine.

It is not really medicine, though, but wine.
Nothing but that, the doctor says, could have kept him so long alive.
He always comes in the middle of the night to give it him with his own hands.

But it makes me cry to see him wake up when so nicely asleep.' 'What sort of man is your doctor ?' asked Curdie.
'Oh, such a dear, good, kind gentleman!' replied the princess.

'He speaks so softly, and is so sorry for his dear king! He will be here presently, and you shall see for yourself.

You will like him very much.' 'Has your king-father been long ill ?' asked Curdie.
'A whole year now,' she replied.