eerfully, 'the
thing is done. I know well who will consecrate me; but is that all, once
more?' 'Well! who?' asked the Regent. 'Your premier almoner; there he
is, outside; he will ask nothing better.' And he embraces the legs of
the Duke of Orleans,--who remains stuck and caught without having the
power to refuse,--goes out, draws aside the Bishop of Nantes, tells him
that he himself has got Cambrai, begs him to consecrate him,--who
promises immediately,--comes in again, capers, returns thanks, sings
praises, expresses wonder, seals the matter more and more surely by
reckoning it done, and persuading the Regent that it is so, who never
dared say no. That is how Dubois made himself Archbishop of Cambrai."

He was helped, it is said, by a strange patron. Destouches, charge
d'affaires in London, who was kept well informed by Dubois, went to see
George I., requesting him to write to the Regent, recommending to him the
negotiator of the treaties. The king burst out laughing. "How can you
ask a Protestant prince," said he, "to mix himself up with the making of
an archbishop in France? The Regent will laugh at the idea, as I do, and
will do nothing of the sort." "Pardon me, sir," rejoined Destouches, "he
will laugh, but he will do it, first out of regard for your Majesty, and
then because he will think it a good joke. I beseech your Majesty to be
pleased to sign the letter I have here already written." King George
signed, and the adroit Dubois became Archbishop of Cambrai. He even
succeeded in being consecrated, not only by the Bishop of Nantes, but
also by Cardinal Rohan and by Massillon, one of the glories of the French
episcopate, a timid man and a poor one, in despite of his pious
eloquence. The Regent, as well as the whole court, was present at the
ceremony, to the great scandal of the people attached to religion.
Dubois received all the orders on the same day; and, when he was joked
about it, he brazen-facedly called to mind the precedent of St. Ambrose.
Dubois henceforth cast his eyes upon the cardinal's hat, and his
negotiations at Rome were as brisk as those of Alberoni had but lately
been with the same purpose.

Amidst so much defiance of decency and public morality, in the presence
of such profound abuse of sacred things, God did not, nevertheless,
remain without testimony, and his omnipotent justice had spoken. On the
21st of July, 1719, the Duchess of Berry, eldest daughter of the Regent,
had died a