In the midst of my reflections, a messenger from M. le Duc d’Orleans, Millain by name, arrived at my house.  It was on the afternoon of Thursday, the 25th of August, 1718.  His message was simple.  M. le Duc d’Orleans was in the same mood as ever, and I was to join him at the Palais Royal, according to previous agreement, at eight o’clock in the evening.  The Bed of justice was to be held on the morrow.

Never was kiss given to a beautiful mistress sweeter than that which I imprinted upon the fat old face of this charming messenger!  A close embrace, eagerly repeated, was my first reply, followed afterwards by an overflow of feeling for M. le Duc, and for Millain even, who had worthily served in this great undertaking.

The rest of the day I passed at home with the Abbe Dubois, Fagon, and the Duc de la Force, one after the other finishing up our work.  We provided against everything:  If the Parliament refused to come to the Tuileries, its interdiction was determined on:  if any of the members attempted to leave Paris they were to be arrested; troops were to be assembled in order to carry out the Regent’s orders; we left no accident without its remedy.

The Abbe Dubois arranged a little code of signals, such as crossing the legs, shaking a handkerchief, or other simple gestures, to be given the first thing in the morning to the officers of the body-guards chosen to be in attendance in the room where the Bed of Justice was to be held.  They were to fix their eyes upon the Regent, and when he made any of the above signals, immediately to act upon it according to their written instructions.  The Abbe Dubois also drew out a sort of programme for M. le Duc d’Orleans, of the different orders he was to give during the night, fixing the hour for each, so that they might not arrive a minute too soon or a minute too late, and secrecy thus be maintained to the very latest moment.

Towards eight o’clock in the evening I went to they Palais Royal.  I was horror-struck to find M. le Duc d’Orleans in bed with fever, as he said; I felt his pulse.  Fever, he had, sure enough; perhaps from excitement caused by the business in hand.  I said to him it was only fatigue of body and mind, of which he would be quit in twenty-four hours; he, on his side, protested that whatever it might be, he would hold the Bed of justice on the morrow.  M. le Duc, who had just entered, was at his pillow; the chamber lighted by a single wax candle.  We sat down, M. le Duc and I, and passed in review the orders given and to give, not without much apprehension on account of this fever, come so strangely out of season to the healthiest man in the world, and who had never had it before.