The Regent was disconcerted; he hesitated a moment, then, speaking low and very earnestly to the Count of Toulouse, he returned to St. Simon.  “I have just told him all,” said he, “I couldn’t help it; he is the best fellow in the world, and the one who touches my heart the most.  He was coming to me on behalf of his brother, who had a shrewd notion that there was something in the wind, and that he did not stand quite well with me; he had begged him to ask me whether I wished him to remain, or whether he would not do well to go away.  I confess to you that I thought I did well to tell him that his brother would do just as well to go away, since he asked me the question; that, as for himself, he might safely remain, because he was to continue just as he is, without alteration; but that something might take place rather disagreeable to M. du Maine.  Whereupon, he asked me how he could remain, when there was to be an attack upon his brother, seeing that they were but one, both in point of honor and as brothers.  I do believe, there they are just going out,” added the Regent, casting a glance towards the door, as the members of the council were beginning to take their places:  “they will be prudent; the Count of Toulouse promised me so.”  “But, if they were to do anything foolish, or were to leave Paris?” “They shall be arrested, I give you my word,” replied the Duke of Orleans, in a firmer tone than usual.  They had just read the decree reducing the legitimatized to their degree in the peerage, and M. le Duc had claimed the superintendence of the king’s education, when it was announced that the Parliament, in their scarlet robes, were arriving in the court of the palace.  Marshal de Villeroi alone dared to protest.  “Here, then,” said he with a sigh, “are all the late king’s dispositions upset; I cannot see it without sorrow.  M. du Maine is very unfortunate.”  “Sir,” rejoined the Regent, with animation, “M. du Maine is my brother-in-law, but I prefer an open to a hidden enemy.”

With the same air the Duke of Orleans passed to the bed of justice, “with a gentle but resolute majesty, which was quite new to him; eyes observant, but bearing grave and easy; M. le Duc staid, circumspect, surrounded by a sort of radiance that adorned his whole person, and under perceptible restraint; the keeper of the seals, in his chair, motionless, gazing askance with that witful fire which flashed from his eyes and which seemed to pierce all bosoms, in presence of that Parliament which had so often given him orders standing at its bar as chief of police, in presence of that premier president, so superior to him, so haughty, so proud of his Duke of Maine, so mightily in hopes of the seals.”  After his speech, and the reading of the king’s decree, the premier president was for attempting a remonstrance; D’Argenson mounted the step, approached the young king, and then, without taking any opinion, said, in a very loud voice, “The king desires to be obeyed, and obeyed at once.”  There was nothing further for it but to enregister the edict; all the decrees of the Parliament were quashed.