If I recover, I will make them pay dearly for their desire to have me die." The austere nature of Louis XIII.

was awakened again with the transitory return of his powers; the severities of his reign were his own as much as Cardinal Richelieu's.
He was, nevertheless, dying, asking God for deliverance.

It was Thursday, May 14.

"Friday has always been my lucky day," said Louis XIII.: "on that day I have undertaken assaults that I have carried; I have even gained battles: I should have liked to die on a Friday." His doctors told him that they could find no more pulse; he raised his eyes to heaven and said out loud, "My God, receive me to mercy!" and addressing himself to all, he added, "Let us pray!" Then, fixing his eyes upon the Bishop of Meaux, he said, "You will, of course, see when the time comes for reading the agony prayers; I have marked them all." Everybody was praying and weeping; the queen and all the court were kneeling in the king's chamber.

At three o'clock, he softly breathed his last, on the sane day and almost at the same moment at which his father had died beneath the dagger of Ravaillac, thirty-three years before.
France owed to Louis XIII.