o'clock this
morning they brought in three dead bodies which M. Le Blanc has had
removed. M. Law has taken refuge in the Palais Royal: they have done
him no harm; but his coach man was stoned as he returned, and the
carriage broken to pieces. It was the coachman's fault, who told them
'they were a rabble, and ought to be hanged.'" I saw at once that it
would not do to seem to be intimidated, so I ordered the coach to be
driven to the Palais Royal. There was such a press of carriages that I
was obliged to wait a full hour before I reached the rue Saint-Honore;
then I heard the people talking: they did not say anything against my
son; they gave me several benedictions, and demanded that Law should be
hanged. When I reached the Palais Royal all was calm again. My son
came to me, and in the midst of my anxiety he was perfectly tranquil,
and even made me laugh.

M. Le Blanc went with great boldness into the midst of the irritated
populace and harangued them. He had the bodies of the men who had been
crushed to death in the crowd brought away, and succeeded in quieting
them.

My son is incapable of being serious and acting like a father with his
children; he lives with them more like a brother than a father.

The Parliament not only opposed the edict, and would not allow it to
pass, but also refused to give any opinion, and rejected the affair
altogether. For this reason my son had a company of the footguard placed
on Sunday morning at the entrance of the palace to prevent their
assembling; and, at the same time, he addressed a letter to the
Premier-President, and to the Parliament a 'lettre-de-cachet', ordering
them to repair to Pontoise to hold their sittings. The next day, when
the musketeers had relieved the guards, the young fellows, not knowing
what to do to amuse themselves, resolved to play at a parliament. They
elected a chief and other presidents, the King's ministers, and the
advocates. These things being settled, and having received a sausage
and a pie for breakfast, they pronounced a sentence, in which they
condemned the sausage to be cooked and the pie to be cut up.

All these things make me tremble for my son. I receive frequently
anonymous letters full of dreadful menaces against him, assuring me that
two hundred bottles of wine have been poisoned for him, and, if this
should fail, that they will make use of a new artificial fire to burn him
alive in the Palais Royal.

It is too true that Madame d'Orlean