to him, once or twice, that he should go to the King.  He neither spoke nor stirred.  I approached and made signs to him to go, then softly spoke to the same effect.  Seeing that he still remained speechless and motionless, I made bold to take his arm, representing to him that sooner or later he must see the King, who expected him, and assuredly with the desire to see and embrace him; and pressing him in this manner, I took the liberty to gently push him.  He cast upon me a look that pierced my soul and went away:  I followed him some few steps and then withdrew to recover breath; I never saw him again.  May I, by the mercy of God, see him eternally where God’s goodness doubtless has placed him!

The Dauphin reached the chamber of the King, full just then of company.  As soon as, he appeared the King called him and embraced him tenderly again and again.  These first moments, so touching, passed in words broken by sobs and tears.

Shortly afterwards the King looking at the Dauphin was terrified by the same things that had previously struck me with affright.  Everybody around was so, also the doctors more than the others.  The King ordered them to feel his pulse; that they found bad, so they said afterwards; for the time they contented themselves with saying it was not regular, and that the Dauphin would do wisely to go to bed.  The King embraced him again, recommended him very tenderly to take care of himself, and ordered him to go to bed.  He obeyed and rose no more!

It was now late in the morning.  The King had passed a cruel night and had a bad headache; he saw at his dinner, the few courtiers who presented themselves, and after dinner went to the Dauphin.  The fever had augmented:  the pulse was worse than before.  The King passed into the apartments of Madame de Maintenon, and the Dauphin was left with his attendants and his doctors.  He spent the day in prayers and holy reading.

On the morrow, Sunday, the uneasiness felt on account of the Dauphin augmented.  He himself did not conceal his belief that he should never rise again, and that the plot Boudin had warned him of, had been executed.  He explained himself to this effect more than once, and always with a disdain of earthly grandeur and an incomparable submission and love of God.  It is impossible to describe the general consternation.  On Monday the 15th, the King was bled.  The Dauphin was no better than before.  The King and Madame de Maintenon saw him separately several times during the day, which was passed in prayers and reading.

On Tuesday, the 16th, the Dauphin was worse.  He felt himself devoured by a consuming fire, which the external fever did not seem to justify; but the pulse was very extraordinary and exceedingly menacing.  This was a deceptive day.  The marks on the Dauphin’s face extended over all the body.  They were regarded as the marks of measles.  Hope arose thereon, but the doctors and the most clear-sighted of the Court could not forget that these same marks had shown themselves on the body of the Dauphine; a fact unknown out of her chamber until after death.