ARREST OF A CORDELIER. 227

the King had taken medicine. After dinner lie was taken by
Torcy to the King, with whom he remained half an hour, de-
laying thus the Council of State for the same time, and then
returned immediately to Paris. So much trouble had not
been taken for no purpose: and Chalais had not prostituted
himself to play the part of prevot to a miserable monk with-
out expecting good winnings from the game. Immediately
afterwards the most dreadful rumours were everywhere in
circulation against M. d'OrMans, who, it was said, had poisoned
the Dauphin and Dauphine by means of this monk, who,
nevertheless, was far enough away from our Prince and
Princess at the time of their death. In an instant Paris re-
sounded with these horrors; the provinces were inundated
•with them, and immediately afterwards foreign countries—
this too with an incredible rapidity, which plainly showed
how well the plot had been prepared—and a publicity that
reached the very caverns of the earth. Madame des TJrsms
•was not less served in Spain than M. du Maine and Madame
de Maintenon in France. The anger of the public was doubled.
The Cordelier was brought, bound hand and foot, to the
Bastile, and delivered up to D'Argenson, lieutenant of Police.*
This D'Argenson rendered an account to the King of many
things which Pontchartrain, as Secretary of State, considered
to belong to his department. Pontchartrain was vexed be-
yond measure at this, and could not see without despair his
subaltern become a kind of minister more feared, more valued,
more in consideration than he, and conduct himself always in
such manner that he gained many powerful friends, and made
but few enemies, and those of but little moment. M. d'Orldans
bowed before the storm, that he could not avert; it could not
increase the general desertion; he had accustomed himself to
his solitude, and, as he had never heard this monk spoken of,
had not the slightest fear on his account. D'Argenson, who

* It is to be observed that whenever Saint-Simon comes to talk of things
in which he was himself engaged or particularly interested, he becomes de-
clamatory and magniloquent, losing much of his picturesqueuess and almost
all his wit.

JLD~" ""'**