"Let them wait," replied Law, evenly as before. "Not one of them would listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them—shall listen to them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait."
"But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?"
"Tell them nothing. Let them wait."
Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the magician, each with the same plea—some hope of favor, of advancement, or of gain.
At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry: "For the king!" The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man who was still the real ruler of France.
"Open, open, in the name of the king!" cried one, as he beat loudly on the panels.
Law turned languidly toward the attendant. "Henri," said he, "tell them to be more quiet."
"My master, 'tis the regent!" expostulated the other, with somewhat of anxiety in his tones.
"Let him wait," replied Law, coolly. "I have waited for him."
"But, my master, they protest, they clamor—"