“Your Honor, there are no quotations,” replied the attendant. “’Tis only as one is able to buy.  The actions of the last issue, three hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand livres the share.”

“Ninety times what their face demands,” said Law, impassively.

“True, some ninety times,” said the Swiss. “’Tis said that of this issue the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself.  ’Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher, since ’tis all that the public has to buy.”

“Lucky regent,” said Law, sententiously.  “Plenty would seem to have been his fortune!”

He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among the pavilions before his window.  Outside his door he heard knockings and cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss paid to these the least attention.  It was to them an old experience.

“Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see you,” at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time with his ear at an aperture in the door.

“Let the Prince de Conti wait,” said Law, “and a plague take him for a grasping miser!  He has gained enough.  Time was when I waited at his door.”

“The Abbe Dubois—­here is his message pushed beneath the door.”

“My dearest enemy,” replied Law, calmly.  “The old rat may seek another burrow.”

“The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld.”

“Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband’s righteousness of resolution, and would beg a share or so?  Let her wait.  I find these duchesses the most tiresome animals in the world.”

“The Madame de Tencin.”

“I can not see the Madame de Tencin.”

“A score of dukes and foreign princes.  My faith! master, we have never had so large a line of guests as come this morning.”  The stolid impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way.

“Let them wait,” replied Law, evenly as before.  “Not one of them would listen to me five years ago.  Now I shall listen to them—­shall listen to them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs.  To-day I am aweary, and not of mind to see any one.  Let them wait.”

“But what shall I say?  What shall I tell them, my master?”

“Tell them nothing.  Let them wait.”

Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing.  They all awaited the magician, each with the same plea—­some hope of favor, of advancement, or of gain.

At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the door.  A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry:  “For the king!” The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man who was still the real ruler of France.

“Open, open, in the name of the king!” cried one, as he beat loudly on the panels.