d!" exclaimed the regent, starting up and
laying his hand on his sword. "There is no punishment you do not
deserve! You will leave me in this plight--you--you, who have supplanted
me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my
own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer
of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my
bitterest misfortune--why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you!
Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me--to mock us, the
person of the king?"

"I mock not in the least, your Grace," said John Law, "nor do aught else
that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as
the friend of Philippe of Orleans, yet I stand before that Philippe of
Orleans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of
terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from
that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you
fail."

"But, look you--consider," said the regent. "Something must be done."

"As I said," replied Law.

"But what is going to happen? What will the people do?"

"First," said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as
though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane,
"first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this
morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three
o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there
will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes
and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the
regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a
body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments,
as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they
but recognize him."

"But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?"

"Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at
once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will
drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be
loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and
pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will
also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and
force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that
gold and silve