her to pardon the fire of youthful blood, and to remember that Louis, if erring, both loved and respected her. She reminded her, "that she [Maria Theresa] had at least a much happier lot than her own." Overcome by suffering during the long watches of the night, when she could not sleep, she weeps; as the tears roll down her wrinkled cheeks, Mademoiselle de Beauvais wipes them away with her handkerchief. [Illustration: Maria Theresa. From a painting by Velasquez in the Louvre.] "I do not really weep, _ma bonne_," said the dying Queen; "these tears that I shed are forced from me by intense anguish; you know I never cry." The Archbishop d'Auch, seeing her condition, told her plainly that the doctor despaired of her life. "I thank God," she answered. "Do not lament," added she, turning to her ladies, whose sobs caught her ear; "we must all die. I am still among you; when I am gone, then grieve for me, not yet." Her son, Philippe d'Orléans, sat constantly beside her bed. While he was present she never allowed herself to utter a complaint, but when he left her, she turned to Madame de Motteville and said, "I suffer horribly. There is no single part of my whole body that is not rent with pain." Then raising her eyes to heaven she exclaimed, "Praised be God, it is His will, His will be done—I submit to it with all my heart; yes, with all my heart." Yet in this condition she took the liveliest interest in all that concerned her sons and the King of Spain, and caused every letter to be read aloud to her coming from Madrid. Two nights before her death she bade good-night to her children with a haste unusual to her. It was because she did not wish them to witness sufferings she could no longer conceal. As soon as they were gone she desired that the litany of the Passion should be chanted throughout the weary hours of the night. Now and then her groans interrupted the solemn office. When her women strove to mitigate her agony, she pushed them away, saying, "My vile body is given up to the justice of God. I care not what becomes of it." In the morning the King, of whom she was ever devotedly fond, and who warmly returned her love, remained many hours with her. That afternoon she grew worse. During the night her son Monsieur hid himself in the curtains of her bed, not to leave her, as she had earnestly desired he would do. The next morning, it was deemed advisable to administer extreme unction. The King and Queen, Monsieur d'Orléans, Madame his wife, and Mademoiselle de Montpensier were present. They went out to meet the Lord's body and to bear it to her. After she had communicated, a heavenly expression spread over her countenance, her eyes shone with unnatural brilliancy, and the colour returned to her cheeks.