Racine took him to church with him; a Testament was given him.

"That is a very good book," said he; "I assure you it is a very good book." Then all at once addressing Abbe Boileau, "Doctor, do you think that St.Augustin was as clever as Rabelais ?" He was ill, however, and began to turn towards eternity his dreamy and erratic thoughts.

He had set about composing pious hymns.
"The best of thy friends has not a fortnight to live," he wrote to Maucroix; "for two months I have not been out, unless to go to the Academy for amusement.

Yesterday, as I was returning, I was seized in the middle of Rue du Chantre with a fit of such great weakness that I really thought I was dying.

O, my dear friend, to die is nothing; but thinkest thou that I am about to appear before God?
Thou knowest how I have lived.