"Here is another;" and he presented a second letter to the duke.
"'Protestation of the nobility.'"
"Make your lists, monseigneur, you are not the only one, you see – the Prince de Cellamare has his also."
"'Signed without distinction of ranks, so that there may be no dissatisfaction: – De Vieux-Pont, De la Pailleterie, De Beaufremont, De Latour-du-Pin, De Montauban, Louis de Caumont, Claude de Polignac, Charles de Laval, Antoine de Chastellux, Armand de Richelieu.' Where did you fish up all this, you old fox?"
"Wait, monseigneur, we have not done yet. Look at this."
"'Plan of the conspirators: Nothing is more important than to make sure of the strong places near the Pyrenees, to gain the garrison of Bayonne.' Surrender our towns! give the keys of France into the hands of the Spanish! What does this mean, Dubois?"
"Patience, monseigneur; we have better than that to show you; we have here the letters from his majesty Philip V. himself."
"'To the king of France – ' But these are only copies."
"I will tell you soon where the originals are."
"Let us see, my dear abbe, let us see. 'Since Providence has placed me on the throne of Spain,' etc., etc. 'In what light can your faithful subjects regard the treaty which is signed against me?' etc., etc. 'I beg your majesty to convoke the States-General of the kingdom.' Convoke the States-General! In whose name?"
"In the name of Philip V."
"Philip V. is king of Spain and not of France. Let him keep to his own character. I crossed the Pyrenees once to secure him on his throne; I might cross them a second time to remove him from it."
"We will think of that later – I do not say no; but for the present we have the fifth piece to read – and not the least important as you will see."
And Dubois presented another paper to the regent, which he opened with such impatience that he tore it in opening it.
"Never mind," said Dubois, "the pieces are good; put them together and read them."
The regent did so, and read —
"'Dearly and well beloved.'
"Ah!" said the regent, "it is a question of my deposition, and these letters, I suppose, were to be given to the king?"
"To-morrow, monseigneur."
"By whom?" – "The marshal."
"Villeroy?"
"Himself."
"How did he determine on such a thing?"
"It was not he; it was his wife, monseigneur."
"Another of Richelieu's tricks?"
"You are right, monseigneur."
"And from whom do you get these papers?"
"From a poor writer to whom they have been given to be copied, since, thanks to a descent made on Laval's house, a press which he had hidden in the cellar has ceased to work."
"And this writer is in direct communication with Cellamare? The idiots!"
"Not at all, monseigneur; their measures are better taken. The good man has only had to deal with the Prince de Listhnay."
"Prince de Listhnay! Who is he?"
"Rue du Bac, 110."
"I do not know him."
"Yes, you do, monseigneur."
"Where have I seen him?"
"In your antechamber."
"What! this pretended Prince de Listhnay?"
"Is no other than that scoundrel D'Avranches, Madame de Maine's valet-de-chambre."
"Ah! I was astonished that she was not in it."
"Oh! she is at the head, and if monseigneur would like to be rid of her and her clique, we have them all."
"Let us attend to the most pressing."
"Yes, let us think of Villeroy. Have you decided on a bold stroke?"
"Certainly. So long as you confine yourself to parading about like a man at a theater or a tournament, very well; so long as you confine yourself to calumnies and impertinences against me, very good; but when it becomes a question of the peace and tranquillity of France, you will find, Monsieur le Marechal, that you have already compromised them sufficiently by your military inaptitude, and we shall not give you an opportunity of doing so again by your political follies."
"Then," said Dubois, "we must lay hold of him?"
"Yes; but with certain precautions. We must take him in the act."
"Nothing easier. He goes every morning at eight o'clock to the king."
"Yes."
"Be to-morrow at half-past seven at Versailles."
"Well?"
"You will go to his majesty before him." – "Very well."