“Ah!”—and all the bodyguard went into fits of laughter at this reply. The man stoutly insisted, however, that he had most important matters to disclose to “the Master of ‘Vesàilles,’” as he phrased it. At this point of the conversation, the Marshal de Torcy, Colbert’s nephew, happened to come by. Overhearing what had passed, he directed that this emissary of Heaven should be conducted to the ministers, just then sitting in council. They, impressed with the honest and earnest air of the farrier, informed the king of the affair. Listening with grave attention to their representation, Louis commanded the man to be brought before him. Alone with the king, the farrier unfolded his tale. It was fantastic enough. He was returning, he said, from the duke’s stables, where he had been shoeing some of the horses—to his own home, in a hamlet situated not far off, and was passing through a wood. It was night, and quite dark; but suddenly he found himself enfolded in a brilliant light, and in the midst of it stood a tall woman, right in his path. She addressed him by his name, and bade him repair immediately and without an instant of delay to Versailles, where he was to tell the king that he had seen the spirit of the dead queen, his wife, and that she, the ghost of Maria Théresa, commanded him in the name of heaven, to make public the marriage he had contracted, which hitherto he had kept secret. The king objected that the man had probably been the victim of hallucination. “I thought so too at first,” replied the farrier, “and I sat down under an elm-tree to collect myself, believing I had been dreaming; but two days afterwards, as I was passing the same spot, I again saw the phantom, who threatened all sorts of terrible misfortunes to me and mine if I did not immediately do what it had directed.” Then the king had another doubt; and asked him whether he was not trying to impose upon him, and had been paid to carry out the affair. The man replied that in order for His Majesty to be convinced that he was no impostor, he should wish him to reply to one question he had to ask. “Have you,” he went on, when the king willingly consented to this, “have you ever mentioned to living soul a syllable about the midnight visit the late queen-mother paid you in the Château de Ribeauvillé years ago?” “No,” said Louis, with paling lips, “I never confided it to anyone.” “Very well; the ghost in the forest bade me remind you of that visit, if you expressed any doubt of my good faith; and,” added the man, as the king said it was very strange, “before disappearing, the tall white woman uttered these words—‘He must obey me now, as he then obeyed his mother.’” The king, in an access of dismay and perplexity, sent for the Duc de Duras, and related to him in confidence what had passed during the interview with the peasant. The duke, who was an intimate friend of Ninon, told her the wondrous tale.