“It would be otherwise if the case were defended, sir,” returned his dragoman; “then, too, you would have had an opportunity of understanding the capacity of the human mind for seeing the same incident to be both black and white; but it would take much of your valuable time, and the Court would be so crowded that you would have a lady sitting on your right wing also, and possibly on your knee. For, as you observe, ladies are particularly attached to these dramas of real life.” “If my wife were a wrong one,” said the Angel, “I suppose that, according to your law, I could not sew her up in a sack and place it in the water?” “We are not now in the days of the Great Skirmish,” replied his dragoman somewhat coldly. “At that time any soldier who found his wife unfaithful, as we call it, could shoot her with impunity and receive the plaudits and possibly a presentation from the populace, though he himself may not have been impeccable while away--a masterly method of securing a divorce. But, as I told you, our procedure has changed since then; and even soldiers now have to go to work in this roundabout fashion.” “Can he not shoot the paramour?” asked the Angel. “Not even that,” answered his dragoman. “So soft and degenerate are the days. Though, if he can invent for the paramour a German name, he will still receive but a nominal sentence. Our law is renowned for never being swayed by sentimental reasons. I well recollect a case in the days of the Great Skirmish, when a jury found contrary to the plainest facts sooner than allow that reputation for impartiality to be tarnished.” “Ah!” said the Angel absently; “what is happening now?” “The jury are considering their verdict. The conclusion is, however, foregone, for they are not retiring. The plaintiff is now using her smelling salts.” “She is a fine woman,” said the Angel emphatically. “Hush, sir! The judge might hear you.” “What if he does?” asked the Angel in surprise. “He would then eject you for contempt of Court.” “Does he not think her a fine woman, too?” “For the love of justice, sir, be silent,” entreated his dragoman. “This concerns the happiness of three, if not of five, lives. Look! She is lifting her veil; she is going to use her handkerchief.” “I cannot bear to see a woman cry,” said the Angel, trying to rise; “please take this lady off my left wing.” “Kindly sit tight!” murmured his dragoman to the lady, leaning across behind the Angel’s back. “Listen, sir!” he added to the Angel: “The jury are satisfied that what is necessary has taken place. All is well; she will get her decree.” “Hurrah!” said the Angel in a loud voice. “If that noise is repeated, I will have the Court cleared.” “I am going to repeat it,” said the Angel firmly; “she is beautiful!”