ing to the little prince, who had just been christened with
the royal title, he inquired,

"What is your name, my child?"

"Louis XIV.," the dauphin promptly replied.

"Not yet," said the king, sadly, shaking his head; "but pray God that
it may soon be so."

A few more days of sickness and suffering passed away, during which it
was almost hourly expected that the king would die. Death often comes
to the palace invested with terrors unknown in the cottage. Beneath
his sceptre all gradations and conditions of rank disappear. The
sufferings of the king were such that he longed for release.

On the 13th of May, as the shades of evening were gathering around his
dying bed, he anxiously inquired of his physicians if it were possible
that he could live until morning. They consulted together, and then
informed him that they did not think it possible.

"God be praised!" the king replied. "I think it is now time that I
should take leave of all whom I love."

The royal household was immediately assembled around the couch of the
dying monarch. He had sufficient strength to throw his arms around the
neck of the queen, and to press her tenderly to his heart. In such an
hour past differences are forgotten. In low and broken tones of voice,
the king addressed the queen in a few parting words of endearment.

The dauphin was then placed in his arms. Silently, but with tearful
eyes, he pressed his thin and parched lips to both cheeks and to the
brow of the child, who was too young to comprehend the solemn import
of the scene.

His brother, Monsieur, the duke of Orleans, the king had never loved.
In these later years he had regarded him with implacable hostility.
But, subdued by the influences of death, he bade that brother an
eternal adieu, with even fond caresses. Indeed, he had become so far
reconciled to Monsieur that he had appointed him lieutenant general of
the kingdom, under the regency of Anne of Austria, during the minority
of the dauphin.

Several of the higher ecclesiastics were present, who had assisted in
preparing him to die. He affectionately embraced them all, and then
requested the Bishop of Meaux to read the service for the dying. While
it was being read he sank into a lethargy, and never spoke again. He
died in the forty-second year of his age, after a reign of
thirty-three years, having ascended the throne when but nine years
old.

Immediately after the death of the king, Anne of Austria held a
private i