“Well,” returned the duke, “and, as I understand, of a most favourable sort; perhaps, it might have been better that La Martinière had said nothing about it. However, it is a malady as readily subdued by art as any other; you must not allow yourself to feel any uneasiness respecting it, science has now so much improved in the treatment of this malady.” “I doubt not its ability to cure others, but me! Indeed, duc de Richelieu, I would much rather face my old parliament than this inveterate disease.” “Your majesty’s being able to jest is a good sign.” At this moment, ignorant of all that had taken place, I entered the room; for, in the general confusion, no person had informed me of it. The moment Louis XV perceived me, he exclaimed in a hollow tone, “Dearest countess, I have the small-pox.” At these words a cry of terror escaped me. “Surely, sire,” exclaimed I, “this is some wandering of your imagination, and your medical attendants are very wrong to permit you to indulge it for a minute.” “Peace!” returned Louis XV; “you know not what you say. I have the small-pox, I repeat; and, thanks to La Martinière, I now know my real state.” I now perceived whose hand had dealt the blow, and seeing at once all the consequences of the disclosure, exclaimed in my anger, turning towards La Martinière, “You have achieved a noble work, indeed, sir; you could not restrain yourself within the bounds of prudence, and you see the state to which you have reduced his majesty.” La Martinière knew not what to reply; the king undertook his defence. “Blame him not,” said he; “but for him I should have quitted this world like a heathen, without making my peace with an offended God.” At these words I fainted in the arms of doctor Bordeu, who, with the aid of my attendants, carried me to my chamber, and, at length, succeeded in restoring me. My family crowded around me, and sought to afford me that consolation they were in equal need of themselves. Spite of the orders I had given to admit no person, the duc d’Aiguillon would insist upon seeing me. He exerted his best endeavours to persuade me to arm myself with courage, and, like a true and attached friend, appeared to lose sight of his own approaching fall from power in his ardent desire to serve me. In this mournful occupation an hour passed away, and left my dejected companions sighing over the present, and, anticipating even worse prospects than those now before them. CHAPTER XLIII Terror of the king--A complication--Filial piety of the princesses--Last interview between madame du Barry and Louis XV--Conversation with the maréchale de Mirepoix--The chancellor Maupeou--The fragment--Comte Jean Perhaps no person ever entertained so great a dread of death as Louis XV, consequently no one required to be more carefully prepared for the alarming intelligence so abruptly communicated by La Martinière, and which, in a manner, appeared to sign the king’s death-warrant.