to close the two ends of the street with gates, open from six A. M. to nine P. M.; every house harbored business agents by the hundred; the smallest room was let for its weight in gold.  The workmen who made the paper for the bank-notes could not keep up with the consumption.  The most modest fortunes suddenly became colossal, lacqueys of yesterday were millionaires to-morrow; extravagance followed the progress of this outburst of riches, and the price of provisions followed the progress of extravagance.  Enthusiasm was at its height in favor of the able author of so many benefits.  Law became a convert to Catholicism, and was made comptroller-general; all the court was at his feet.  “My son was looking for a duchess to escort my granddaughter to Genoa,” writes Madame, the Regent’s mother. “‘Send and choose one at Madame Law’s,’ said I; ’you will find them all sitting in her drawing-room.’” Law’s triumph was complete; the hour of his fall was about to strike.

At the pinnacle of his power and success the new comptroller-general fell into no illusion as to the danger of the position.  “He had been forced to raise seven stories on foundations which he had laid for only three,” said a contemporary, as clear-sighted as impartial.  Some large shareholders were already beginning to quietly realize their profits.  The warrants of the Compagnie des Indes had been assimilated to the bank-notes; and the enormous quantity of paper tended to lower its value.  First, there was a prohibition against making payments in silver above ten francs, and in gold above three hundred.  Soon afterwards money was dislegalized as a tender, and orders were issued to take every kind to the Bank on pain of confiscation, half to go to the informer.  Informing became a horrible trade; a son denounced his father.  The Regent openly violated law, and had this miscreant punished.  The prince one day saw President Lambert de Vernon coming to visit him.  “I am come,” said the latter, “to denounce to your Royal Highness a man who has five hundred thousand livres in gold.”  The Duke of Orleans drew back a step.  “Ah, Mr. President,” he cried, “what low vocation have you taken to?” “Monseigneur,” rejoined the president, “I am obeying the law; but your Royal Highness may be quite easy; it is myself whom I have come to denounce, in hopes of retaining at least a part of this sum, which I prefer to all the bank-notes.”  “My money is at the king’s service,” was the proud remark of Nicolai, premier president of the Exchequer-Chamber, “but it belongs to nobody.”  The great mass of the nation was of the same opinion as the two presidents; forty-five millions only found their way to the Bank; gold and silver were concealed everywhere.  The crisis was becoming imminent; Law boldly announced that the value of the notes was reduced by a half.  The public outcry was so violent that the Regent was obliged to withdraw the edict, as to which the council had not been consulted.  “Since Law became