So that Bigot came hurriedly to him.
"My lord ?" "Water!" he said.

"Water, fool!" And, having drunk, he turned his face to the wall, lest he should name her or ask for her.
For the desire to see her before he died, to look into her eyes, to touch her hand once, only once, assailed his mind and all but whelmed his will.
She had been with him, he knew it, in the night; she had left him only at daybreak.

But then, in his state of collapse, he had been hardly conscious of her presence.

Now to ask for her or to see her would stamp him coward, say what he might to her.

The proverb, that the King's face gives grace, applied to her; and an overture on his side could mean but one thing, that he sought her grace.