improbable. He was often firm in promises. How often was he firm in
carrying them out? All these questions, all these restless doubts--
natural as it appears to me under the circumstances--winged their way
through my mind, and kept me excited and feverish as though life and
death were hanging on one thread.

In the midst of my reflections, a messenger from M. le Duc d'Orleans,
Millain by name, arrived at my house. It was on the afternoon of
Thursday, the 25th of August, 1718. His message was simple. M. le Duc
d'Orleans was in the same mood as ever, and I was to join him at the
Palais Royal, according to previous agreement, at eight o'clock in the
evening. The Bed of justice was to be held on the morrow.

Never was kiss given to a beautiful mistress sweeter than that which I
imprinted upon the fat old face of this charming messenger! A close
embrace, eagerly repeated, was my first reply, followed afterwards by an
overflow of feeling for M. le Duc, and for Millain even, who had worthily
served in this great undertaking.

The rest of the day I passed at home with the Abbe Dubois, Fagon, and the
Duc de la Force, one after the other finishing up our work. We provided
against everything: If the Parliament refused to come to the Tuileries,
its interdiction was determined on: if any of the members attempted to
leave Paris they were to be arrested; troops were to be assembled in
order to carry out the Regent's orders; we left no accident without its
remedy.

The Abbe Dubois arranged a little code of signals, such as crossing the
legs, shaking a handkerchief, or other simple gestures, to be given the
first thing in the morning to the officers of the body-guards chosen to
be in attendance in the room where the Bed of Justice was to be held.
They were to fix their eyes upon the Regent, and when he made any of the
above signals, immediately to act upon it according to their written
instructions. The Abbe Dubois also drew out a sort of programme for M.
le Duc d'Orleans, of the different orders he was to give during the
night, fixing the hour for each, so that they might not arrive a minute
too soon or a minute too late, and secrecy thus be maintained to the very
latest moment.

Towards eight o'clock in the evening I went to they Palais Royal. I was
horror-struck to find M. le Duc d'Orleans in bed with fever, as he said;
I felt his pulse. Fever, he had, sure enough; perhaps from excitement
caused by the business in hand. I said