'Oh, dear Dr Kelman!' cried the princess, running up and taking
hold of his arm; 'I am so sorry!' She pulled and pulled, but might
almost as well have tried to set up a cannon ball. 'I hope you
have not hurt yourself?'
'Not at all, not at all,' said the doctor, trying to smile and to
rise both at once, but finding it impossible to do either.
'if he slept on the floor he would be late for breakfast,' said
Curdie to himself, and held out his hand to help him.
But when he took hold of it, Curdie very nearly let him fall again,
for what he held was not even a foot: it was the belly of a
creeping thing. He managed, however, to hold both his peace and
his grasp, and pulled the doctor roughly on his legs - such as they
were.
'Your Royal Highness has rather a thick mat at the door,' said the
doctor, patting his palms together. 'I hope my awkwardness may not
have startled His Majesty.'
While he talked Curdie went to the door: Lina was not there.
The doctor approached the bed.
'And how has my beloved king slept tonight?' he asked.
'No better,' answered Irene, with a mournful shake of her head.
'Ah, that is very well!' returned the doctor, his fall seeming to
have muddled either his words or his meaning. 'When we give him
his wine, he will be better still.'
Curdie darted at the flagon, and lifted it high, as if he had
expected to find it full, but had found it empty.
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