At last the Keeper of the Seals opened his mouth, and in his first sentence announced the fall of one brother and the preservation of the other.  The effect of this upon every one was inexpressible.  However occupied I might be in containing mine, I lost nothing.  Astonishment prevailed over every other sentiment.  Many appeared glad, either from hatred to the Duc du Maine, or from affection for the Comte de Toulouse; several were in consternation.  The Chief-President lost all countenance; his visage, so self-sufficient and so audacious, was seized with a convulsive movement; the excess alone of his rage kept him from swooning.  It was even worse at the reading of the declaration.  Each word was legislative and decreed a fresh fall.  The attention was general; every one was motionless, so as not to lose a word; all eyes were fixed upon the ‘greffier’ who was reading.  A third of this reading over, the Chief-President, gnashing the few teeth left in his head, rested his forehead upon his stick that he held in both hands, and in this singular and marked position finished listening to the declaration, so overwhelming for him, so resurrectionary for us.

Yet, as for me, I was dying with joy.  I was so oppressed that I feared I should swoon; my heart dilated to excess, and no longer found room to beat.  The violence I did myself, in order to let nothing escape me, was infinite; and, nevertheless, this torment was delicious.  I compared the years and the time of servitude; the grievous days, when dragged at the tail of the Parliamentary car as a victim, I had served as a triumph for the bastards; the various steps by which they had mounted to the summit above our heads; I compared them, I say, to this court of justice and of rule, to this frightful fall which, at the same time, raised us by the force of the shock.  I thanked myself that it was through me this had been brought about.  I had triumphed, I was revenged; I swam in my vengeance; I enjoyed the full accomplishment of desires the most vehement and the most continuous of all my life.  I was tempted to fling away all thought and care.  Nevertheless, I did not fail to listen to this vivifying reading (every note of which sounded upon my heart as the bow upon an instrument), or to examine, at the same time, the impressions it made upon every one.

At the first word the Keeper of the Seals said of this affair, the eyes of the two bishop-peers met mine.  Never did I see surprise equal to theirs, or so marked a transport of joy.  I had not been able to speak to them on account of the distance of our places; and they could not resist the movement which suddenly seized them.  I swallowed through my eyes a delicious draught of their joy, and turned away my glance from theirs, lest I should succumb beneath this increase of delight.  I no longer dared to look at them.

The reading finished, the other declaration in favour of the Comte de Toulouse was immediately commenced by the ‘greffier’, according to the command of the Keeper of the Seals, who had given them to him both together.  It seemed to complete the confusion of the Chief-President and the friends of the Duc du Maine, by the contrast between the treatment of the two brothers.