mouille, and was one of the richest archbishoprics in the
Church. A hundred and fifty thousand francs a year were attached to it,
and it was difficult to say whether Dubois was most tempted by the title
of successor to Fenelon, or by the rich benefice.

Dubois, on the first opportunity, brought it again on the tapis. The
regent again tried to turn it off with a joke, but Dubois became more
positive, and more pressing. The regent, thinking to settle it, defied
Dubois to find a prelate who would consecrate him.

"Is it only that?" cried Dubois, joyously, "then I have the man at
hand."

"Impossible!" said the regent.

"You will see," said Dubois; and he ran out.

In five minutes he returned.

"Well?" asked the regent.

"Well," answered Dubois, "I have got him."

"And who is the scoundrel who is willing to consecrate such another
scoundrel as you?"

"Your first almoner, monseigneur."

"The bishop of Nantes!"

"Neither more nor less."

"Tressan!"

"Himself."

"Impossible!"

"Here he is."

And at this moment the door was opened, and the bishop of Nantes was
announced.

"Come," cried Dubois, running to him, "his royal highness honors us both
in naming me archbishop of Cambray, and in choosing you to consecrate
me."

"M. de Nantes," asked the regent, "is it true that you consent to make
the abbe an archbishop?"

"Your highness's wishes are commands for me."

"Do you know that he is neither deacon, archdeacon, nor priest?"

"Never mind, monseigneur," cried Dubois, "here is M. de Tressan, who
will tell you all these orders may be conferred in a day."

"But there is no example of such a thing."

"Yes, Saint Ambloise."

"Then, my dear abbe," said the regent, laughing, "if you have all the
fathers of the Church with you, I have nothing more to say, and I
abandon you to M. de Tressan."

"I will give him back to you with the cross and miter, monseigneur."

"But you must have the grade of licentiate," continued the regent, who
began to be amused at the discussion.

"I have a promise from the University of Orleans."

"But you must have attestations."

"Is there not Besons?"

"A certificate of good life and manners."

"I will have one signed by Noailles."

"No, there I defy you, abbe."

"Then your highness will give me one. The signature of the regent of
France must have as much weight at Rome as that of a wicked cardinal."

"Dubois," said the regent, "a little more respect, if you please,