force was least felt. He understood. In a moment he had
"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."
"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."
The king made no reply, but, turned heavily in his bed and threw the coverlet over his face. A silence ensued, which lasted until the return of the physicians, when, finding they made no allusion to his condition, the king addressed them in a cool and offended tone.
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