"Come," cried Dubois, running to him, "his royal highness honors us both in naming me archbishop of Cambray, and in choosing you to consecrate me."
"M. de Nantes," asked the regent, "is it true that you consent to make the abbe an archbishop?"
"Your highness's wishes are commands for me."
"Do you know that he is neither deacon, archdeacon, nor priest?"
"Never mind, monseigneur," cried Dubois, "here is M. de Tressan, who will tell you all these orders may be conferred in a day."
"But there is no example of such a thing."
"Yes, Saint Ambloise."
"Then, my dear abbe," said the regent, laughing, "if you have all the fathers of the Church with you, I have nothing more to say, and I abandon you to M. de Tressan."
"I will give him back to you with the cross and miter, monseigneur."
"But you must have the grade of licentiate," continued the regent, who began to be amused at the discussion.