The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke.  There was conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy wits.

“Let me explain,” went on Law.  “I beg your Grace to remember again, that when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother and myself our little bank—­which we had run honorably and successfully—­you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest banking.  You promised to pay something which was unstipulated.  You issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of measurement.  Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice assigned a new value to your specie.  No one can tell what one of your shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin.  It means nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing.  Now, think you, when these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?”

“Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money here in France,” expostulated the regent.

“True, so I did.  We had not enough of good money.  We can not have too little of false money, of money such as your Grace—­as you thought without my knowledge—­has been so eager to issue from the presses of our Company.  It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not his presses given out.  Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink.”

The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his breast.

“But what does it all mean?  What shall be done?  What will be the result?” he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had swiftly fallen upon his soul.

“As to that,” replied Law, laconically, “I am no longer master here.  I am not controller of finance.  Appoint Dubois, appoint D’Argenson.  Send for the Brothers Paris.  Take them to this window, your Grace, and show them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you what shall be done.  Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of the realm.  Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming.  Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France!  But when you come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law.  Ask of Dubois, ask of D’Argenson, ask of the Paris Freres; or, since your Grace has seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let your Grace ask of himself!  Tell me, as regent of France, as master of Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these people of France and of that America which is greater than this France—­tell me, what will you do, your Grace?  What do you suggest as remedy?”