"Go out . . . go out this instant, ill-fated child!" cried the prince, raising himself to a sitting posture, and extending his hand towards the door with an imperious air.
But Létorière threw himself on the king's hand; which, despite his majesty's resistance, he kissed respectfully several times. Then he knelt near the bed, saying:
"May the king pardon my audacity . . . but there is now no longer any reason for forbidding my presence." . . .
"Go away . . . leave me;" replied Louis XV.
"Four years ago I was happier . . . the king deigned to allow me to kiss his royal hand in the garden of Versailles," said the Marquis, with an accent of filial veneration.
"But four years ago . . . my hand could not communicate a frightful disease . . . death, perhaps!" said the sovereign, much moved.
The courageous pertinacity of Létorière touched more deeply this excellent prince, because, save by some inside servants, he had been abandoned by nearly all the courtiers.
The high officials of the crown, whose duty it was to remain near his person, had obeyed only too faithfully his orders, which forbade them to stay.
The fine features of the king, disfigured by his disease, already indicated the approach of death. At this supreme moment the unfortunate dissensions, the threatening political agitation which had darkened the latter part of his reign, filled him with new anxieties. Létorière's noble devotion for a moment diverted his thoughts from these painful themes which saddened his last moments.
"You are a madman, . . . you deserve all my anger for daring to disobey me and expose yourself thus," . . . cried Louis XV., with an expression rather of grief than of wrath, and casting a tender look on Létorière, who, still kneeling near the bed, kept profound silence.