Madame de Flaracourt
had taken her departure at an early hour, either ignorant of
what had occurred or with the intention of being prepared for
whatever might happen.
As yet, it was but little in the power of any person to predict
the coming blow. "The king is ill," said each of us as we met.
"The king is ill," was the morning salutation of the ducs de
Richelieu, de Noailles, de Duras, and de Cosse. The prince de
Soubise had followed the example of madame de Flaracourt, and
had quitted Trianon; it seemed as though the hour for defection
were already arrived. A summons now arrived from his majesty
who wished to see me. I lost not a moment in repairing to his
apartment, where I found him in bed, apparently in much pain and
uneasiness. He received me tenderly, took my hands in his, and
kissed them; then exclaimed,
"I feel more indisposed than I can describe, a weight seems
pressing on my chest, and universal languor appears to chain my
faculties both of body and mind. I should like to see
La Martiniere."
"And would you not likewise wish to have the advice of Bordeu?"
"'Yes," said he, "let both come, they are both clever men, and
I have full confidence in their skill. But do you imagine that
my present illness will be of a serious nature?"
"By no means, sire," returned I, "merely temporary, I trust
and believe.
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