nter about my brother, the director-general of
finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their
face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him
over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the
farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the
Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not
content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South
Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco,
for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million
livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need
not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he
has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm
has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the
king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within
fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now,
call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but
at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France,
that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and
ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has
saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these
things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you
believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that
he has at least been constant to himself!"

"Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company
promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and
'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,'
and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into
centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother
and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of
knowledge of these miracles."

"True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?"

Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness
in every gesture.

"Sir," said she, "it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you
must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been
wrought which can give us back the past again."

"This," said Will Law, sadly, "is this all the message I may take?"

"It is all."

"Though