The duc d’Ayen was right: M. de la Vrillière was a brazen-faced rogue; a complete thief, without dignity, character, or heart. His cupidity was boundless: the _lettres de cachet_ emanated from his office, and he carried on an execrable trade in them. If any person wished to get rid of a father, brother, or husband, they only had to apply to M. de la Vrillière. He sold the king’s signature to all who paid ready money for it. This man inspired me with an invincible horror and repugnance. For his part, as I was not disgusting, he contented himself with hating me; he was animated against me by his old and avaricious mistress, madame de Langeac, alias Subutin. Langeac could not endure me. She felt that it was better to be the mistress of Louis XV than that of the _petit la Vrillière _, for so her lover was called at court. I knew that she was no friend of mine, and that her lover sided with the Choiseuls against me; and was consequently the more delighted to see the little scoundrel come to receive the order for avenging me. He entered with an air of embarrassment; and whilst he made me a salute as low as to the king, this latter, in a brief severe tone, ordered him to send the sieur Ledoux to Saint Lazare forthwith. He departed without reply, and half an hour afterwards returned, to say that it was done. The king then said to him, “Do you know this lady?” “No, sire.” “Well, I desire you henceforward to have the greatest consideration for her as my best friend, and whoever wishes to prove his zeal for me, will honor and cherish her.” The king then invited him to sup with us, and I am sure that during the whole repast I was the hardest morsel he had to digest. Some days afterwards I made acquaintance with a person much more important than the little duke, and destined to play a great part in the history of France. I mean M. de Maupeou, the late chancellor, who, in his disgrace, would not resign his charge. M. de Maupeou possessed one of those firm and superior minds, which, in spite of all obstacles, change the face of empires. Ardent, yet cool; bold, but reflective; the clamors of the populace did not astonish, nor did any obstacles arrest him. He went on in the direct path which his will chalked out. Quitting the magistracy, he became its most implacable enemy, and after a deadly combat he came off conqueror. He felt that the moment had arrived for freeing royalty from the chains which it had imposed on itself. It was necessary, he has said to me a hundred times, for the kings of France in past ages to have a popular power on which they could rely for the overturning of the feudal power. This power they found in the high magistracy; but since the reign of Louis XIII the mission of the parliaments had finished, the nobility was reduced, and they became no less formidable than the enemy whom they had aided in subduing. “Before fifty years,” pursued M. de Maupeou, “kings will be nothing in France, and parliaments will be everything.”