riend," said the king, "I have the small-pox; I am still
very ill."

"Nay, sire," interrupted I, "you must not fancy things worse than they
are; you will do well, depend upon it, and we shall yet pass many happy
days together."

"Do you indeed think so?" returned Louis XV. "May heaven grant your
prophecy be a correct one. But see the state in which I now am; give me
your hand."

He took my hand and made me feel the pustules with which his burning
cheeks were covered. I know not what effect this touch of my hand might
have produced, but the king in his turn patted my face, pushed back the
curls which hung negligently over my brow; then, inclining me towards
him, drew my head upon his pillow. I submitted to this whim with all the
courage I could assume; I even went so far as to be upon the point of
bestowing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. But, stopping me, with a
mournful air, he said, "No, my lovely countess; I am no longer myself,
but here is a miniature which has not undergone the same change as its
unfortunate master."

I took the miniature, which I placed with respectful tenderness in my
bosom, nor have I ever parted with it since.

This scene lasted for some minutes, after which I was retiring, but the
king called me back, seized my hand, which he tenderly kissed, and then
whispered an affectionate "Adieu." These were the last words I ever
heard from his lips.

Upon re-entering my apartments I found madame de Mirepoix awaiting me,
to whom I related all that had taken place, expressing, at the same
time, my earnest hope of being again summoned, ere long, to the presence
of my friend and benefactor.

"Do not deceive yourself, my dear," said she; "depend upon it you have
had your last interview; you should have employed it more profitably.
His portrait! why, if I mistake not, you have _five_ already. Why
did you not carry about with you some deed of settlement ready for
signature? he would have denied you nothing at such a moment, when you
may rest assured he knew himself to be taking his last farewell."

"Is it possible?" exclaimed I. "And can you really suppose the king
believed he spoke to me for the last time?"

"I have not the slightest doubt of it; I have known him for many a day.
He remembers the scene of Metz, and looks upon you as forming the second
edition of the poor duchesse de Chateauroux, who, by the by, was not
equal to you in any respect."

I burst into a fit of tears, but not of regret f