lived in Paris. The king left
orders with Madame de Lausac that, should his brother visit the queen,
the officers of the household should immediately surround the dauphin
for his protection, and that Monsieur should not be permitted to enter
the palace should he be accompanied by more than three persons.

[Illustration: PALACE OF SAINT GERMAIN-EN-LAYE.]

To Montigni, the captain of the guard, the king gave half of a gold
coin, of which he retained the other half. Montigni was commanded to
watch over the persons of the princes with the utmost vigilance.
Should he receive an order to remove them, or to transfer them to
other hands, he was enjoined not to obey that order, even should it be
in the handwriting of his majesty himself, unless he at the same time
received the other half of the broken coin.

The king, as we have mentioned, had been for some time in feeble
health. Early in the spring of 1643 he became seriously ill. The
symptoms were so alarming as to lead the king, as well as his friends,
to think that death could not be far distant. There are few men so
hardened as to be able to contemplate without some degree of anxiety
death and the final judgment. The king was alarmed. He betook himself
to prayer and to the scrupulous discharge of his religious duties.

In preparation for the great change, he repaired to Saint Germain to
invest the queen with the regency when he should die. His brother,
Monsieur, who had taken the title of the Duke of Orleans, and all the
leading nobles of the court, were present. The king, pale, emaciate,
and with death staring him in the face, was bolstered in his bed. Anne
of Austria stood weeping by his side. She did not love her
husband--she did love power; but the scene was so solemn and so
affecting as to force tears into all eyes. The dauphin was then four
and a half years old. He was declared king, with the title of Louis
XIV., under the regency of his mother until he should attain his
majority.

The next day, April 21st, the christening of the dauphin with his new
title took place with great state in the chapel of the palace. After
the celebration of the rite, the dauphin was carried into the chamber
of his dying father, and seated upon the bed by his side. The poor
king, dying in the prime of life, was oppressed with the profoundest
melancholy. There was nothing in the memory of the past to give him
pleasure; nothing in the future to inspire him with well-grounded
hope. Turn