suring me that you are conspiring against me."

The Duc de Maine turned as pale as death, and was obliged to lean for
support on the crutch-shaped stick which he carried.

"And I hope, monseigneur," replied he, in a voice which he vainly
endeavored to render firm, "that you did not give ear to such a
calumny."

"Oh, mon Dieu! no!" replied the regent negligently; "but they are
obstinate, and declare that they will take you one day in the fact. I do
not believe it, but at any rate I give you warning; be on your guard
against them, for they are clever fellows, I warrant you."

The Duc de Maine opened his mouth to give some contemptible excuse, when
the door opened again, and the groom announced successively the Duc de
Bourbon, the Prince de Conti, the Duc de St. Simon, the Duc de Guiche,
captain of the guards; the Duc Noailles, president of the council of
finance; the Duc d'Antin, superintendent of ships; the Marshal
d'Uxelles, president of the council of foreign affairs; the Archbishop
of Troyes; the Marquis de Lavrilliere; the Marquis d'Efflat; the Duc de
Laforce; the Marquis de Torcy; and the Marshals de Villeroy, d'Estrees,
de Villars, and de Bezons.

As these grave personages were gathered together to deliberate upon the
treaty of the quadruple alliance, brought from London by Dubois, and as
the treaty of the quadruple alliance only figures secondarily in this
history, our readers will excuse our leaving the sumptuous
reception-room in the Palais Royal, to lead them back to the attic in
the Rue du Temps-Perdu.

CHAPTER XX.

THE CONSPIRACY.

D'Harmental, after having placed his hat and cloak on a chair, after
having placed his pistols on his table, and his sword under his pillow,
threw himself dressed on to his bed, and, more happy than Damocles, he
slept, though, like Damocles, a sword hung over his head by a thread.

When he awoke it was broad daylight, and as the evening before he had
forgotten to close his shutters, the first thing he saw was a ray of
sunshine playing joyously across his room. D'Harmental thought that he
had been dreaming, when he found himself again calm and tranquil in his
little room, so neat and clean, while he might have been at that hour in
some gloomy and somber prison. For a moment he doubted of its reality,
remembering all that had passed the evening before; but all was
there--the red ribbon, the hat and cloak on the chair, the pistols on
the table, and the sword under t