One day I was conversing with the comte de la Marche upon the disputes concerning the parliaments, and expressing my fear, that, if driven to desperate measures, the people would rise in open rebellion in favor of the magistracy. “They would be still more clamourous,” replied he, “if they knew all I could tell them.” “And what do you know more than myself?’” asked I; “your highness alarms me by speaking thus.” “Amongst events now passed and gone is one that would materially affect the public peace, if known.” “You must explain yourself, my lord,” said I. He refused; but I persisted in pressing the matter with so much earnestness, that at last he said, in a low voice, “Did you ever hear of the man who wore the iron mask?” “Yes, certainly,” replied I, “who was he?” “A great prince, and a most unfortunate man.” “But who was he really?” “In the eyes of the law the crown of France should have been his; but in the conscientious view of things he certainly had no claim.” The comte de la Marche stopped here; and, as I was not very deeply read in history, I did not exactly comprehend the distinction he had just made. I had frequently heard talk of the “Iron Mask,” whom people reported to be either allied to, or sprung from, the royal family; but all these particulars were confused in my memory. However, I was much struck with the conversation I had had with the comte de la Marche; and when next the conversation fell on this mysterious personage, I asked the duc de Richelieu what he thought of him. “Upon my honor,” replied he, “I never could find out who he really was; not that I did not try,” added he, assuming an air of modest vanity, which well became his green old age. “I had a mistress of tolerably high birth, mademoiselle d’Orleans, as indeed I had the honor of having the princesses, her august sisters. However, the former, known under the name of mademoiselle de Charollais, was dying to do some act of kindness that should be agreeable to me. Well, I requested she would obtain from the regent, her father, the solution of the secret relative to the ‘Iron Mask.’ She used every possible device, but nothing could she obtain from her father, who protested that the mystery should never escape his lips; and he kept his word, he never did divulge it. I even imagine that the king himself is ignorant of it, unless indeed the cardinal de Fleury informed him of it.” The maréchal told me afterwards that he thought the opinion adopted by Voltaire the most probable, viz: that this unknown person was the son of the queen Anne of Austria, mother of Louis XIV. These last words helped, in a measure, to resolve the enigma which comte de la Marche had left me to unravel; and, with a view to satisfy myself more positively on the subject, I availed myself of the first time I was alone with the king, to lead the conversation to this story. At the mention of the “Iron Mask,” Louis XV started. “And do you really credit such a fable?” asked he.