To every person who approached him the despairing monarch could
utter only the fatal phrase, "I have the small-pox," which, in
his lips, was tantamount to his declaring himself a dead man.
Alas! had his malady been confined to the small-pox, he might
still have been spared to our prayers; but, unhappily, a
complication of evils, which had long been lurking in his veins,
burst forth with a violence which, united to his cruel complaint,
bade defiance to surgical or medical skill.
Yet, spite of the terror with which the august sufferer
contemplated his approaching end, he did not lose sight of the
interests of the nation as vested in the person of the dauphin,
whom he positively prohibited, as well as his other grandsons,
from entering his chamber or even visiting the part of the chateau
he occupied. After this he seemed to divest himself of all
further care for sublunary things; no papers were brought for his
inspection, nor did he ever more sign any official document.
The next request made by Louis XV was for his daughters, who
presented themselves bathed in tears, and vainly striving to
repress that grief which burst forth in spite of all their
endeavours. The king replied to their sobs, by saying, "My
children, I have the small-pox; but weep not. These gentlemen
[pointing towards the physicians] assure me they can cure me."
But, while uttering this cheerful sentence, his eye caught the
stern and iron countenance of La Martiniere, whose look of cool
disbelief seemed to deny the possibility of such an event.
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