Fontanieu was waiting for me in my house as I returned home from mass, and I was obliged to listen to his questions and to reply to them, as though I had nothing on my mind.  I arranged my chamber like a Bed of Justice, I made him understand several things; connected with the ceremonial that he had not under stood before, and that it was essential he should in no way omit.  Thus everything went on satisfactorily, and I began to count the hours, by day as well as by night, until the great day was to arrive on which the arrogant pride of the Parliament was to receive a check, and the false plumage which adorned the bastards was to be plucked from them.

In the midst of the sweet joy that I felt, no bitterness entered.  I was satisfied with the part I had played in this affair, satisfied that I had acted sincerely, honestly, that I had not allowed my own private motives to sway me; that in the interests of the State, as opposed to my own interests, I had done all in my power to save the Duc du Maine.  And yet I did not dare to give myself up to the rosy thoughts suggested by the great event, now so rapidly approaching.  I toyed with them instead of allowing myself to embrace them.  I shrunk from them as it were like a cold lover who fears the too ardent caresses of his mistress.  I could not believe that the supreme happiness I had so long pined for was at last so near.  Might not M. le Duc d’Orleans falter at the last moment?  Might not all our preparations, so carefully conducted, so cleverly planned, weigh upon his feebleness until they fell to the ground?  It was not improbable.  He was often firm in promises.  How often was he firm in carrying them out?  All these questions, all these restless doubts—­ natural as it appears to me under the circumstances—­winged their way through my mind, and kept me excited and feverish as though life and death were hanging on one thread.

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.