tors
more than the others. The King ordered them to feel his pulse, that
they found bad, so they said afterward; for the time they contented
themselves with saying that it was not regular, and that the Dauphin
would do wisely to go to bed. The King embraced him again, recommended
him very tenderly to take care of himself, and ordered him to go to
bed. He obeyed and rose no more!

It was now late in the morning. The King had passed a cruel night and
had a bad headache; he saw at his dinner the few courtiers who
presented themselves, and then after dinner went to the Dauphin. The
fever had augmented, the pulse was worse than before. The King passed
into the apartment of Madame de Maintenon, and the Dauphin was left
with attendants and his doctors. He spent the day in prayers and holy
reading.

On the morrow, Sunday, the uneasiness felt on account of the Dauphin
augmented. He himself did not conceal his belief that he would never
rise again, and that the plot Pondin had warned him of had been
executed. He explained himself to this effect more than once and
always with a disdain of earthly grandeur and an incomparable
submission and love of God. It is impossible to describe the general
consternation. On Monday the 15th the King was bled. The Dauphin was
no better than before. The King and Madame de Maintenon saw him
separately several times during the day, which was passed in prayers
and reading.

On Tuesday, the 16th, the Dauphin was worse. He felt himself devoured
by a consuming fire, which the external fever did not seem to justify,
but the pulse was very extraordinary and exceedingly menacing. This
was a deceptive day. The marks in the Dauphin's face extended all
over the body. They were regarded as the marks of measles. Hope arose
thereon, but the doctors and the most clear-sighted of the court could
not forget that these same marks had shown themselves on the body of
the Dauphine, a fact unknown out of her chamber until after death.

On Wednesday, the 17th, the malady considerably increased. I had news
at all times of the Dauphin's state from Cheverney, an excellent
apothecary of the King and of my family. He hid nothing from us. He
had told us what he thought of the Dauphine's illness; he told us now
what he thought of the Dauphin's. I no longer hoped therefore, or
rather I hoped to the end against all hope.

On Wednesday the pains increased. They were like a devouring fire, but
more violent than ever. Very la