With the same air the Duke of Orleans passed to the bed of justice, “with a gentle but resolute majesty, which was quite new to him; eyes observant, but bearing grave and easy; M. le Duc staid, circumspect, surrounded by a sort of radiance that adorned his whole person, and under perceptible restraint; the keeper of the seals, in his chair, motionless, gazing askance with that witful fire which flashed from his eyes and which seemed to pierce all bosoms, in presence of that Parliament which had so often given him orders standing at its bar as chief of police, in presence of that premier president, so superior to him, so haughty, so proud of his Duke of Maine, so mightily in hopes of the seals.” After his speech, and the reading of the king’s decree, the premier president was for attempting a remonstrance; D’Argenson mounted the step, approached the young king, and then, without taking any opinion, said, in a very loud voice, “The king desires to be obeyed, and obeyed at once.” There was nothing further for it but to enregister the edict; all the decrees of the Parliament were quashed. Some old servants of Louis XIV., friends and confidants of the Duke of Maine, alone appeared moved. The young king was laughing, and the crowd of spectators were amusing themselves with the scene, without any sensible interest in the court intrigues. The Duchess of Maine made her husband pay for his humble behavior at the council; “she was,” says St. Simon, “at one time motionless with grief, at another boiling with rage, and her poor husband wept daily like a calf at the biting reproaches and strange insults which he had incessantly to pocket in her fits of anger against him.”