The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 21, 1903, Page 4

THE SUNDAY CALL. all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the salon of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari, recently Madame &'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very wejll. and of course also Mademoiselle Alsse, la belle Circassienne—But what? Diable! Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?” £ There, was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this protest, yet he continued: 5 ““Monsieur L'as. "tis but a little surprise 1 had planned for you. Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean L'as, King of the Messas- ebe and hence your sovereign! This is ;' fair unknown, whose face I have ¢ you should see to-night—this Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom 1 have seen fit to honor this even- ing by the wearing of the chief gem of France. 'he regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to tne side of the faltering figure which stood arraved in all its savage finery. One movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth exclamations of awe from every person present “See!” cried Philippe of Orleans. «rmgas on the advice and by the ald of Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem. whose like is not known in all the world. Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of France and master for & day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!" he wine of Al had already done part f its work. There were brightened eyes, gestures and ready compliance as iests arose to quaff the toast to this ew queen As for the queen herself, she stood falt- her eyes averted, her limbs trem- John Law, tall, calm, self-pos- ot take his seat, but stood with sets face, gazing at the woman who held the Place of honor at the table of the regant. “Comet” Come!™ cried the latter, testily. his Wl{le ; working in his brain. “Wh ouf t bling stand here, Monsleur L'as, gazing as though' Ibound? Salute, sir, as T do, the chieffilllm of France, and her who is most fit vear it!" John LaWistood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept through the softly brilllant air, over the flash and glitter of the great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfa- m r situation. There came to all a pre- sentiment of some unusuai thing about to happen. Instinctively the hands paused, even as thevy raised the bright and brimming glasses. The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling, drooping. at the uead of the table. Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent’'s guest. He flicked lightly st the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands. “Your Grace is not far wrong,” sald he. “I re- gret that you do not have your way iIn planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I have already met this l1ady “What?” cried the regent. “You have met her? Impossible! Incredible! How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wiz- ard enough, and owner of the philoso- pher’s stone—owner of anything you like, except this secret of mine. According to mademoiselle’s own words, it would have been impossible.” “None the less, what I have sald is true,” sald John Law, calmly, his voice even and well modulated, vibrating a lit- tle, yet showing no trace of anger nor of emotional uncontrol. “But I tell you it could not be!” again exclaimed the regent. “No, it is impossible,” young Duc de Richelleu. “I would swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news would so have spread that all France had been at her feet.” Law looked at fhe impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its significance, its uitimate meaning, seemed to take instant hold upon him. He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions. All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and furious. He trod a step further forward, after his fashion, ad- vancing close to that which threatened him. “This lady, your Grace,” sald he, “has been known to me for years. Mary Con- nynge, what do you masquerading here?” A sudden silence fell, a silence broken &t length by the voice of the regent him- melf. “Surely, Monsieur L'as,” said Philippe, “surely we must accept your statements. But monsieur must remember that this is the table of the regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!” Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped vet a pace nearer to the woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his an- gered eyes. He looked neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman, until in turn her eyes ought his own. “This woman, your Grace,” sald Law at length, “was for some time in effect my wife. This I do not offer as a matter of interest. What I would say to your Grace is this—she was also my slave!” “Sirrah!” cried the regent. “Ah, dame!” exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women ebout there came little murmurs of ex- postulation. Indeed, there might have been pity even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon the brow of Mary Connynge. “Monsieur, the wine has turned your sald the regent scornfully. “You broke in tne . “I boast of nothing,” cried Law, sav- egely. his volce now ringing with & tone none present had ever known it to as- sume. “I say to you again, this woman was my slave, and that she il again do as T shall choose. Your Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should command it! She would kneel at my feet and beg of me if I should com- mand it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?” “‘Oh, assuredly,” replied the regent, with & sarcasm which now seemed his only rellef. “Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in Paris are quite his humble servants.” Law said nothing. He etood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, try- ing their utmost to escape from his whose fingers, resting just lightly on t) snowy hollands of the tablecloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sing beneath her. “Come, then, Mary Connynge!” cried Law at last, his teeth setting savagely together. “Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before me, as you did once before!"” Then there ensued a straunge and ho.ri- ble spectacle. A hush as of death fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trem- bling, halting, yet always advancing, did indeed as her master had biuden! She passed from the head of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gaz- ing with horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of Alsse, near which Law now stood; she paused in front of him and stood as though In a dream. Her knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have per- formed the ignoble service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment—this might have been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did occur. There came a sound which broke the si- lence, which caused all to start as with swift rellef. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this irrepressible ex&amation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swift- I¥ old, haggard, broken down, stood gaz- ing in wild-eyed horror at this woman, €0 humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly lighted hall; before the biazing mirrors which should have re- flected back naught but beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved. Perhaps still he loved. This sharp sound s:rved to break alsc the spell under which Law himself seemed held. He cast aloft his arms as in remorse or in despair. Then he ex- tended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him. “God forgive me, madame!” he cried. “I had forgot. Savage, indeed, you are and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally.” “Your Grace,” sald he, turning toward the regent, “I crave your pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the mor- row."” He turned, and taking his brother by the arm advanced toward the door at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed before passing through the door it might have seen that which he roust long have borne in memory. Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, ut- terly broken, never found her way back to the right hand of the regent. She half- stumbled into a chair near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the throat. Half-blindly ahe reached out her hand toward a glass of wine which stood near by, foaming and spark- ling, its gemlike drops of keen pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France. CHAPTER IX. THE NEWS. “Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! heard the news?” Thus, breathless, the Countess of War- rington, Lady Catharine’s English neigh- bor in exile, who burst into the drawing- room early in the morning, not waiting for announcement of her presence. “Nay, not yet, my dea said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing her. “What is it, pray? Has the poodle swal- lowed a bone, or the baby perhaps cut an- other tooth? .&nd‘ forsooth, how is the liitle one?” Lady Emily Warrington, slender, ele- gant, well clad and for the most part lan- guorously calm, was in a state of excite- ment quite without her customary aplomb. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the handiwork of Watteau. ““The streets are full of it,”” said she. “Have you not heard, really?” must say, not yet. But what is it?"” “Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director general, Mr. Law “No, I have not heard of it.” Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her own fai “But tell me,” she continued. But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Parls is all agog. 'Twas ebout a woman!" *You mean—there was—a woman?" “Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is dead—died last night. 'Tis sald she fell in a fit at the very table—'twas at a little supper given by the regent—and that when they came to her she was quite dead.” “*Twas he that killed he *“Good God! What mean you?” cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving her cold as a statue. “Why,” continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news scgrce noting what went on before her, “it seems that this mysterious beauty of the re- gent’s, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to be none other that a for- mer mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of late mon- strous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly upon her at the of the regent, arrayed in some kind age finery—for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And what doth my director general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees be- fore him, as it seems indeed she would have done—as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris would do to-day! Then, all of & sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table, would lift a glass of wine, and so—'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed all Paris is like a play now- adays. Of course you know the rest.” A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine’s lap. The busy gossip went on. ‘“The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own wares be- fore all and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled botly with Mr. Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received and so they had it violent enough. °'Tis stated on the Quinquempolx that another must take Mr. Law’'s place. it Mr. Law Boes, what will become of the System? And what would Have you But ‘e the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be without the Sys- tem? Why, lsten, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my hus- band says.” ““And what says he?"” asked Lady Catha- rine, her own voice sounding to her un- familiar and far away. ““Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end—this Mississppi bub- ble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the em- bassy. “Yet I have heard all France is pros- perous.” “Oh, yes, indeed. 'Tis sald that but yesterday the kingdom paid four millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of Its debt to Sweden—yet these are not the most pressing debts of France.” “Meaning—" “Why, the debts of the regent to his friends—those are the important things. But the other day he gave eighty thou- sand livres to Madame Chateauthiers as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres to the Abbe Something- or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand livres to that rat Dubois. The thief d’Argenson ever counsels him to give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke, has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the re- gent gives six hundred thousand livre: for carrying the fan of the regent's fo gotten wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because the prince sald he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to a 3-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haldee, because she has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because she has not a consump- tion. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans.” “But, look you!” she went on, ‘“how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the Hotel Mazarin. There is no limit to his buying of estates. This, so says mp husband, is the great proof of his honesty. He puts his ‘money here in France, and does not send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of anything.” Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Bilence fell in the great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal cylinder which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted. ““You did not tell me, Lady Emily,” said she, with woman’s feigned indifference, “what was the name of this poor woman of tha other evening."” “Why, so I had forgot—and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported him- self something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever heard of the woman before."" “And the name?"” “'Twas sald Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge."” The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to one who heard it the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a thousand tem- pests. CHAPTER X. MASTER AND MAN. John Law, idle, preoccupled, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the street be- fore him. The room in which he found himself was one of a sulte in that mag- nificent Hotel de Solsson, bought but re- cently of the Prince de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thou- sand livres, which had of late been cho- sen as the temple of Fortuna. The great gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of tents anf kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators which surged and swirled and fought throughout the nar- row avenues, contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless shares of the Company of the Indle!.i The System was at its height. The bub- ble was blown to its last limit. The popu- lar delirium had grown to its last possible degree. From the window mobs of infuriated human beings might have seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe: and thrice refined was the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted ones. Yet it was a scene not altogether with- out its fascinations. Hither came titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials, princes of the blood; all these animated but by one pur- pose—to bid and outoid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth, luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorb- ing theme. Law looked over this familiar scene, in- different, calm, almost moody, his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. “What was the call, Henri” asked he at length of the old Swiss who had, during these stormy times, been 80 long his faithful attendant. “What was the last quotation that you heard?” “Your Honor, there are no quotations,” replied the attendant. “'Tis only as one is able to buy. The actions of the last is- sue, 300,000 in all, were swept away at a breath at 15,000 livres the shar “Ninety times what their face de- mands,” sald Law, impassively. “True, some ninety times,” Bwiss. ‘Tis sald that of this issue the regent has taken over one-third, or 100,000, 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, sententlou: ly. “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 d cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss pald to these the least attention. It was to them an old perience. “Your Honor, the Prince de Cont! is in the antechamber and would see you,” at thess mad length ventured the attendant, after list- ening for some time with his ear at an aperture in the door. “Let the Prince de Conti wait,” sald Law, “and a plague take him for & grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I walited at his door.” » “The Abbe Dubois—here is his message pushed beneath the doo “My dearest enemy,” replied Law, calmly. “The old rat may seek another burrow."” vhe Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld.” “Ah, then, she hath overcome her hus- band’'s righteousness of resolution, and would beg a share or s0o? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the most tiresome animals in the world."” “The Madame de Tencin.” cannot 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 seem on the point of giving way. “Let them walt,” 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? tell tbem, my master?” “Tell them nothing. Let them wait.” Thus the crowd of notables packed into the enterooms walited at the door, fum- ing and execrating, vet not departing. They all awaited the magician, each with the same plea—some hope of favor, of ad- vancement or of gain. At last there arose a yet greater tumult in the hall which led to the door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the ery: “For the King!" The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man,wno was still the real ruler of France. “‘Open, open, in the name of the King!” cried one, as he beat loudly on the panels. Law turned languldly toward the at- tendant. ‘‘Henri, 1d he, “tell them to be more quiet.” “My master, 'tis the regent!"” expostu- lated the other, with somewhat of anxiety in his tones. “Let him walit,” replied Law, coolly. “I have waited for him.” “But, my master, they protest, they clamor—-"" “Very well. Let them do so—but stay. If it is indeed the regent I may as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door.” The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orleans, preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back into the anteroom. “How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?" fumed the regent, his heavy face glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his forehead bent into" a heavy frown. ‘“You deny entrance to our person, who are next to the body of his Majesty?"* “Did you have delay?’ asked Iaw sweetly. ‘'Twas unfortunate.’ “'Twas execrable!” “True. I myself ind these crowds exe- crable.” “Nay, execrable to suffer this annoy- ance of delay!"” “Your Grace's pardon,” sald Law, cool- ly. “You should have made an appoint- ment a few days in advance. “What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a ser- vant!"” ““Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words,” repliéd Law, blandly. “I am not your servant. I am your master.” The regent sank back into a chair, gasp- Ing, hisshand clutching at the hilt of his sword. “Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastile with him! The presumer! The impostor!” Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention. “Yet these words I must hasten to qual- ify,” resumed he. “True, I am at this mo- ment your master, yaur Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all time thereaf- ter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without, was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest, and the growth of France—nay, let us say the res- urrection of France—the new life of France—shows how my own plans were made and how well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. 1 gave you funds to pay off mil- lions of your private debts, millions to gratify your fancles. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of vour fate, who have been able to accom- plish these things. So long as you knew your master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He would be his own master again. There cannot be two in control of a concern like this. Sir, the two minutes have elapsed. I am your very humble servant!” The regent still sat staring from his chair and speech was yet denied him. “There are your people. There is your France,” said Law, beckoning as he turn- ed toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. “There is your France. Now handle if, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive; but see that you are careful how you drive. Come, your Grace,” said he, mockingly over his shoulder. ‘‘Come and see your France!” The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His sheer contemptu- ous daring brought Philippe of Orleans to his senses. He relaxed now in his pur- pose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced toward Law with hand out- stretched. “There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps,” sald he. ‘“But as to these ty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most un- speakable, a most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve thousand livres to the action, whereas, as you very well know, fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day.” “And what of that, your Grace?” said Law, calmly. “Is it not what you plan- ned? Is it not what you have been ex- pecting?”’ q “How, sirrah! What do you mean?” “Why, I mean this, your Grace,” said Law, calmly, “that since you have taken the reins it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to ses how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much trouble as to make it plain.”* “Go on, then, sir,” said the regent. “Is ‘What shall I here any danger?” “As to danger,” sald Law, “we cannot call it a time of danger after the worst has happened.” “What do you mean?" “Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was sbout to say, I shall tell you how it happened.” The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his sword hilt. “Your Grace,” said Law, calmly, “will do me the kindness to remember that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque Generale, to be taken private- ly in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that any banker merited the punishment of death if he {ssued notes or bills of ex- changs without having their effective value safe in his own strong boxes.” “Well, what of that?’ queried the re- gent, weakly. “Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of death.” “How, sir! Good God!" “If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace from limb to limb, and trample you in the dust!” 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 n actual coin. It means nothing, stands for nothing, Is good for nothing. Now, think you, when these people, when this France shall dis- cover these facts, that they will be lenfent with those who have thus de- ceived 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 cannot have too little of false money, of money such as your Grace—as you thought without my knowledge—has been so eager to is- sue 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 eter- nity, had not his presses given out. Mon- ey 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 chalr, 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. am not Controller of Finance. Appoin¥® Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send for the Broth- ers 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 adven- turer, of a Scotch gambler, of one John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of the realm. Baddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming. Malign me, misrepre- .sent 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 remedles, 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? “You devil! you arch flend!” exclaimed the regent, starting up and laying his hand on his sword. “There is no punish- ment you do not deserve! You will leay me in this plight—you—you, who havi supplanted me at every turn; you who made that horrible last night at my own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my bitterest misfortune— why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you! Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me—to mock us, the person of the King?"” “I mock mnot in the least, your Grace,” sald John Law, “nor do aught else that {1l beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as the friend of Phil- ippe of Orleans, yet I stand before that Philippe of Orleans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of terrors exist, which' can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you fail."” “But, look you—consider,” sald the re- gent. “‘Something must be done.” “As I sald,” replied Law. “But what is going to happen? What will sthe people do?” “First,” sald Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as though he ‘were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane, “first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By 8 o’clock this after- noon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there will be a pani Then the spell will be broken. France 11 rub her eyes and begin to awaken. Then, since the King can do no wrong, and since the regent is the King, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a bodyguard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn Into fragments, as these people would tear the real author of their un- doing, did they but recognize him.” “But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?” “‘Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will drive his coaches to the door of your bank and demand that they be loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre and every peasant and pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers and each of them will also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and force out into publicity on every highway of France your decree that gold and silver are not so good as your banknotes; that no one must have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of France, but that all must bring it to the King and take for it in exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to sue- ceed, ought it not, your Grace?” His ban- tering tone sank into one of half plausi- “Why, surely. That would be the solu- tion.” “Oh, think you so? Your Grace is won- drous keen as a financier! Now, take the counsel of Dubols, of D’Argenson, my very good friends. This is what they will counsel you to do. And T will counsel you at the same time to avail yourseif of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to enable you to put something es- sential under the value of all this paper money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so without stint or measure.” “Yes. And then?” “Why, then, your Grace,” said Law, “then we shall see what we shall see!” The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. “Go on. Smooth down the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of the reaim of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than thirteen hundred mil- lions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our ac- tions until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred milllons of livres in the stock of our company. Your Brothers Parls, your D'Argen- son, your Dubols will tell you how you can make the people of France continue to believe that twice two is not four, twice thirteen is not twenty-six!"” *‘But this they are doing.” broken in the regent, with a rap of hope in his face. “This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the council not an hour ago Abbe Dubois and Monsieur d"Argenson de- cided that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament will regis- ter, stating that the interests of the sub- jects of the King roquire that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that there may be some sort of accommo- dation between them and the coin of the realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop to seventy- five hundred livres, and so on, at five hun- dred livres a month, until at last they shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my wise Mon- sieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this insulting presumption of these peo- ple, who have sold actions at a price lower than we have decreed.” Law smiled as he replied. “You say ex- cellently well, my master. These plans surely show that you and your able coun- selors have studied deeply the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day without any decree of the King. Now go you on and make your de- crees. You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are go- ing up than values which are going down, Start your shares down hill, and you will see all France seramble for such coin, such plate, such jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon. Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d’Argenson advise you this morning as to the total issue of the actions of this com- pany?” “‘Surely he di4, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have taken it up with yourself,” replied the regent. “So,” exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance, until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper. “Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares of the company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five mil- lion, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes! Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have thirteen hundred mil- lions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all your UloAl-dnow but just before you!” “And you would oo 80 and leave me at “Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress,” replied Law. “But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a plate behind stout Bates and barred doors, deep within the interfor of the Palals Royal, will bs the best r sidence for him to-n! ight—perhaps for several nights te come?” “:x-ui‘r yourself?* “‘As for myself, it does not matter,” plied Law, slowly and deliberately. ""I sl 5 succeed- was mine for short months, though now I must .r::: failure. I have this to console me—that twas failure not of my own fault. As for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this very hour. As for your Grace In person, I was your friend, nor was I ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no mat- ter how cherished, no matter how suc- cessful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness. To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. 5( llnrverydwleln,. There is nothing I could esire, an s well to- s MOrrow as at “‘But surely, Monsieur L'as,” in - ed the regent, with a trace of his m::- erosity, “if there should be outbreak. as you fear, I shall, of course, give you a guard. I shall indeed ses you safe out of the city, if you prefer, though I had much Hefer ayon;h;vould remain and try to help us undé this coll, wh bt or 1, erein I much doubt “Your Grace, I am a disappointed & man with nothing In the world to m fort him. I have said that I would not help you, since ‘twas yourself brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more :;::: ::.}e:l.l‘d. Rt te the value of ently, but dly as ual annuities. Juggle, temporize, post- pone, get for yourself all the time you can. Trade for the people’'s shares all you have that they will take. You can never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of this over- issue of stock which has no Intrinsic value. Eventually you may have to de- clare vold many of these shares and with- dwr;lwhfrom the clumncy these actions for' ch so recent! v Beseriy by 'y the people have been “That means repud e e pudiation!” broke in the “Certainly, your Grace, and In go f: your Grace has my extremest lymv:m.yr I know it was your resolve not to - digte the d - 3 0 debts of France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are {mmeasurab} greate er, rich as Fran H o s ce thinks herself to be. Not all Frane re the people and the produce of the commerce counted in the cofn, could pay the debt of France as it Now exists. Hence, honorable ar not, thers is nothing else—it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if' your Grace took immediate steps, not only for the safety of his person, but for jthe safety of the Government.” “Sir, do you mean that the people