"Then let the king recompense my fidelity by granting me what he grants to no other person . . . the right to serve him, to remain near him!" . . . said Létorière, joining his hands in supplication. "It must be so . . . now" . . . said Louis XV. Then he added, almost in despair: "But you are young! you are handsome! you are beloved! and all that you risk to come to me! all that you will sacrifice to me, perhaps, poor young man! . . . when so many others". . . and, after a moment of silence, Louis continued: "There is probably a crowd around the dauphin to salute the King, Louis XVI." "Sire, what do you say?" "That is the fate of kings when they are departing, my child. . . . Ah! if I had only oblivion, only death to dread! But France . . . France . . . what will become of her? And my grandson, what will his future be?" . . . "Sire, France has named you the _Well-beloved_; for a long time you have borne that name, and his highness the dauphin will one day merit it." . . . "I am not mistaken . . . I am feeble . . . I approach my end," . . . said the king, shaking his head sadly; "and then, I believe certain deaths are significant; the Marshal of Armantières, the Marquis of Chauvelin, have suddenly died before me . . . in my court. . . . It is a warning from heaven." "Do not think of this, Sire. This illness is dangerous, but care . . ." "Care is powerless,--I feel it; thus it is frightful for me to think that I have, perhaps, uselessly compromised your life . . . but now it is too late. Your imprudence . . . no, no, . . . your generous devotion has rendered all regret vain. . . . But tell me, I have heard with joy of the gaining of your lawsuit. Now, nothing can prevent your marriage with the princess Julie. . . . Oh! I have had to break many lances for you against the _Maréchale_ and against the House of Savoy," he added, with a kind smile. "I have been obliged to use all my authority to prevent them from shutting up Mademoiselle de Soissons in the convent of Montmartre." "Ah! Sire, what goodness! you deign to think . . ." "It is now or never; to-morrow, perhaps, it will be too late. . . . My only fear is, that when I am gone the princess Julie will not find a friend in my grandson. . . . But if God spares me a few days, I will advise her; it will be sweet to me to leave you as happy as you deserve to be, my dear child." . . . * * * * * * * The illness of the king made rapid and frightful progress. Létorière did not quit him for a moment. It would be impossible to tell with what tender, respectful, and touching cares he surrounded the dying monarch. The sight of the Marquis seemed to calm the pains of Louis XV. Several times he offered him his hand in silence, with a sweet expression of gratitude. Soon all hope of saving the prince vanished, and Létorière stood with fixed and mournful eyes at the moment of death, the end of the sovereign who had shown for him all the affection of a father. . . . CHAPTER XIX THE DUEL