Terror was so visibly painted on the king’s countenance, that it began to gain on the others. “Oh, sire!” cried the queen again, “in Heaven’s name do not leave us in this suspense. Will you have a doctor?” “A doctor, no,” cried Henri, in the same tone, “the body is not ill, it is the mind; no doctor--a confessor.” Everyone looked round; nowhere was there to be seen any traces of what had so terrified the king. However, a confessor was sent for; Joseph Foulon, superior of the convent of St. Généviève, was torn from his bed, to come to the king. With the confessor, the tumult ceased, and silence was reestablished; everyone conjectured and wondered--the king was confessing. The next day the king rose early, and began to read prayers then he ordered all his friends to be sent for. They sent to St. Luc, but he was more suffering than ever. His sleep, or rather his lethargy, had been so profound, that he alone had heard nothing of the tumult in the night, although he slept so near. He begged to be left in bed. At this deplorable recital, Henri crossed himself, and sent him a doctor. Then he ordered that all the scourges from the convent should be brought to him, and, going to his friends, distributed them, ordering them to scourge each other as hard as they could. D’Epernon said that as his right arm was in a sling, and he could not return the blows he received, he ought to be exempt, but the king replied that that would only make it the more acceptable to God. He himself set the example. He took off his doublet, waistcoat, and shirt, and struck himself like a martyr. Chicot tried to laugh, as usual, but was warned by a terrible look, that this was not the right time, and he was forced to take a scourge like the others. All at once the king left the room, telling them to wait for him. Immediately the blows ceased, only Chicot continued to strike D’O, whom he hated, and D’O returned it as well as he could. It was a duel with whips. The king went to the queen, gave her a pearl necklace worth 25,000 crowns, and kissed her, which he had not done for a year. Then he asked her to put off her royal ornaments and put on a sack. Louise, always good, consented, but asked why her husband gave her a necklace, and yet made such a request. “For my sins,” replied he. The queen said no more, for she knew, better than any one, how many he had to repent of.