ace M. le Duc d'Orleans after having far a
moment looked all around, every eye fixed upon him, said that he had
assembled this Regency Council to hear read the resolutions adopted at
the last; that he had come to the conclusion that there was no other
means of obtaining the registration of the finance edict recently passed
than that of holding a Bed of justice; that the heat rendering it
unadvisable to jeopardise the King's health in the midst of the crowd of
the Palais de justice, he had thought it best to follow the example of
the late King, who had sometimes sent for the Parliament to the
Tuileries; that, as it had become necessary to hold this Bed of justice,
he had thought it right to profit by the occasion, and register the
'lettres de provision' of the Keeper of the Seals at the commencement of
the sitting; and he ordered the Keeper of the Seals to read them.

During this reading, which had no other importance than to seize an
occasion of forcing the Parliament to recognize the Keeper of the Seals,
whose person and whose commission they hated, I occupied myself in
examining the faces.

I saw M. le Duc d'Orleans with an air of authority and of attention, so
new that I was struck with it. M. le Duc, gay and brilliant, appeared
quite at his ease, and confident. The Prince de Conti, astonished,
absent, meditative, seemed to see nothing and to take part in nothing.
The Keeper of the Seals, grave and pensive, appeared to have too many
things in his head; nevertheless, with bag, wax, and seals near him, he
looked very decided and very firm. The Duc de la Force hung his head,
but examined on the sly the faces of us all. Marechal Villeroy and
Marechal de Villars spoke to each other now and then; both had irritated
eyes and long faces. Nobody was more composed than the Marechal de
Tallard; but he could not hide an internal agitation which often peeped
out. The Marechal d'Estrees had a stupefied air, as though he saw
nothing but a mist before him. The Marechal de Besons, enveloped more
than ordinarily in his big wig, appeared deeply meditative, his look cast
down and angry. Pelletier, very buoyant, simple, curious, looking at
everything. Torcy, three times more starched than usual, seemed to look
at everything by stealth. Effiat, meddlesome, piqued, outraged, ready to
boil over, fuming at everybody, his look haggard, as it passed
precipitously, and by fits and starts, from side to side. Those on my
side I could