“The noble firmness of sovereign courts is odious to people of this class; thus you may imagine the detestation in which they regard the candid and loyal conduct of the duke. I n the hopes of procuring the dismissal of my brother, they have chosen for his successor wretch loaded with crimes, a coward, an extortioner, a murderer--the duc d’Aiguillon. As for you gentlemen, who now constitute our parliament, your places will soon be filled by a magistracy drawn from the dregs of society; a troop of slaves, deaf and blind, except as he who pays them best will have them exercise those powers. “This is no time for indolent repose; we must at once courageously and unanimously defeat the guilty schemes of our enemies. So long as my brother retains his present post he will support you with his best interest; but, should he be dismissed, your business will soon be finished. “I beg my best remembrances, first, to your excellent lady, and after her, to madame B. and madame L., not forgetting the marquise de Chalret, whose wit is truly Attic; nor the marquise de P--s, who conceals beneath the graceful exterior of a Languedocian the soul of one of Corneille’s Roman matrons. For yourself rely upon my warmest friendship and endeavours to serve you. My brother is most anxious to know you, after the flattering manner in which I have mentioned you to him. When will you gratify us both by visiting Paris? “Ever yours,” Nothing could have arrived more _à propos_ for our purpose than this letter. I was still engaged in its perusal when the king was announced; I wished to hurry it back into the hands of M. de Maupeou; but he, more crafty than I, requested I would keep it. “It is fitting,” said he, “that it should be seen by the right person.” Louis XV, astonished at the strange scene, inquired what it meant. “A most shameful piece of scandal, sire,” replied I. “An infamous epistle,” added the chancellor, “which one of my friends managed to abstract from the post-office, and forwarded to me: I brought it to madame la comtesse, that she might admire the determined malice of our enemies.” “You excite my curiosity,” cried Louis XV. “Madame, have the kindness to allow me to see this paper.” “Indeed, sire,” exclaimed I, “I know not whether I ought to obey your majesty, so entirely has the writer of the letter forgotten the respect duc to your sacred person.” “Oh,” said the king, “I do not fear that; I am but too well used to the offence to feel astonishment at its occurrence.” I placed the paper in the hand of Louis XV, whose eye easily recognised the handwriting of madame de Grammont. “Ah, ah!” cried he, “is it so? let us see what this restless lady has to say of us all.” I watched the countenance of the king as he read, and saw the frown that covered it grow darker and darker; nevertheless he continued to read on without comment till he had reached the end; then sitting down and looking full at the chancellor, he exclaimed,