Still, dissatisfied with their
evasive replies, he watched an opportunity, when they were both
absent, to desire La Martiniere would at once explain the true
malady with which he was then suffering. La Martiniere puzzled
and confused, could only exclaim,
"I entreat of you, sire, not to fatigue yourself with conversation;
remember how strongly you have been forbidden all exertion."
"I am no child, La Martiniere," cried Louis XV, his cheeks glowing
with increased fire; "and I insist upon being made acquainted with
the precise nature of my present illness. You have always served
me loyally and faithfully, and from you I expect to receive that
candid statement every one about me seems bent upon concealing."
"Endeavour to get some sleep, sire," rejoined La Martiniere, "and
do not exhaust yourself by speaking at present."
"La Martiniere, you irritate me beyond all endurance. If you
love me, speak out, I conjure you, and tell me, frankly, the name
of my complaint."
"Do you insist upon it, sire?"
"I do, my friend, I do."
"Then, sire, you have the small-pox; but be not alarmed, it is a
disease as frequently cured as many others."
"The small-pox!" exclaimed the king, in a voice of horror; "have
I indeed that fatal disease? and do you talk of curing it?"
"Doubtless, sire; many die of it as well as other disorders, but
we are sanguine in our hopes and expectations of saving
your majesty.
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