of this conduct on the part of the duc de l a
Vrilliere, but I can only suppose it originated in his considering the
king in less danger than he was said to be; however, I suffered him to
lead me to the chamber of the invalid. When Louis XV saw me return,
he inquired why I had quitted him? I replied, because I was fearful
of wearying him; upon which he assured me, that he only felt easy and
comfortable so long as I was with him.

"But, perhaps, there is some contagion in my present complaint?"
exclaimed he, as though labouring under some painful idea.

"Certainly not," replied I; "it is but a temporary eruption of the skin,
which will, no doubt, carry off the fever you have suffered with."

"I feared it was of a more dangerous nature," answered the king.

"You torment yourself needlessly, sire," said I; "why should you thus
create phantoms for your own annoyance and alarm? Tranquillize yourself,
and leave the task of curing you to us."

I easily penetrated the real import of his words; he evidently suspected
the truth, and was filled with the most cruel dread of having his
suspicions confirmed. During the whole of this day he continued in the
same state of uncertainty; the strictest watch was set around him that
no imprudent confession should reveal to him the real nature of
his situation. I continued sitting beside him in a state of great
constraint, from the knowledge of my being closely observed by the
princesses, of whose vicinity we durst not inform him, in the fear of
exciting his fears still more.

The courier, who had been despatched to madame Louise, returned,
bringing a letter from that princess to her sisters, under cover
to madame Adelaide, in which she implored of them not to suffer any
consideration to prevent their immediately acquainting their father with
the dangerous condition he was in. The duty, she added, was imperative,
and the greatest calamity that could befall them, would be to see this
dearly loved parent expire in a state of sinful indifference as to his
spiritual welfare.

The august recluse, detached from all sublunary considerations, saw
nothing but the glorious hereafter, where she would fain join company
with all her beloved friends and connexions of this world.

The archbishop of Paris, M. de Beaumont, a prelate highly esteemed for
his many excellent private qualities, but who had frequently embarrassed
the king by his pertinacity, did not forget him on this occasion; for
no soo