captains of his guards, to his archers, to his huntsmen,
to all his household. "His speech never failed him after it had come
back to him," says Commynes, "nor his senses; he was constantly saying
something of great sense and never in all his illness, which lasted from
Monday to Saturday evening, did he complain, as do all sorts of folk
when they feel ill. . . . "Notwithstanding all those commands he
recovered heart," adds Commynes, "and had good hope of escaping." In
conversation at odd times with some of his servants, and even with
Commynes himself, he had begged them, whenever they saw that he was very
ill, not to mention that cruel word death; he had even made a covenant
with them, that they should say no more to him than, "Don't talk much,"
which would be sufficient warning. But his doctor, James Coettier, and
his barber, Oliver the Devil, whom he had ennobled and enriched under
the name of Oliver le Daim, did not treat him with so much indulgence.
"They notified his death to him in brief and harsh terms," says
Commynes; "'Sir, we must do our duty; have no longer hope in your holy
man of Calabria or in other matters, for assuredly all is over with you;
think of your soul; there is no help for it.' 'I have hope in God that
He will aid me,' answered Louis, coldly; 'peradventure I am not so ill
as you think.'

"He endured with manly virtue so cruel a sentence," says Commynes, "and
everything, even to death, more than any man I ever saw die; he spoke as
coolly as if he had never been ill." He gave minute orders about his
funeral, sepulchre, and tomb. He would be laid at Notre-Dame de Clery,
and not, like his ancestors, at St. Denis; his statue was to be gilt
bronze, kneeling, face to the altar, head uncovered, and hands clasped
within his hat, as was his ordinary custom. Not having died on the
battle-field and sword in hand, he would be dressed in hunting-garb,
with jack-boots, a hunting-horn, slung over his shoulder, his hound
lying beside him, his order of St. Michael round his neck, and his sword
at his side. As to the likeness, he asked to be represented, not as he
was in his latter days, bald, bow-backed, and wasted, but as he was in
his youth and in the vigor of his age, face pretty full, nose aquiline,
hair long, and falling down behind to his shoulders. After having taken
all these pains about himself after his death, he gave his chief
remaining thoughts to France and his son. "Orders must be sent,"