I know not the reason of this conduct on the part of the duc de l a Vrillière, 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 Adélaïde, 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.