De Jars did not stop here. He determined to inflict a public disgrace upon Laffemas. By dint of importunity, he obtained permission to hear mass, on All Saints’ day, in the church of the Jacobins, where he knew that Laffemas would be present. Thither he was taken, under a strong guard. Watching the moment when, with downcast eyes and a Tartuffe countenance, Laffemas was coming from the communion table, he broke from his guards, and seized the judge by the throat. “Villain!” exclaimed he, “this is the moment to confess the truth. Now; while your God is on your lips, acknowledge my innocence, and your injustice in persecuting me. As you pretend to be a Christian, act like one: if you do not, I renounce you as my judge, and I call upon every one who hears me to bear witness that I protest against your being so.” This singular scene drew the wondering congregation round the parties. But the people were by no means inclined to interfere in behalf of the intendant, and some time elapsed before the soldiers could extricate him from the gripe of the prisoner. Laffemas seems not to have been deficient in courage. Undisconcerted by this sudden attack, he said, in a conciliating tone, “Do not make yourself uneasy, sir; I assure you that the cardinal loves you; you will get off with merely going to travel in Italy: but you must first allow us to show you some billets, in your own handwriting, which will convince you that you are more blameable than you say you are.” “Such an insinuation,” remarks Anquetil, “was not calculated to set him at ease. Richelieu, as Madame de Motteville tells us, said that ‘with two lines of a man’s writing, however innocent that man might be, he might be brought to trial; because, by proper management, whatever was wanted could be found in them.’ Accordingly, when de Jars heard talk of writing, he gave himself up for lost, but he soon armed himself with renovated courage.”