"For six months, monsieur, so it is written," replied the man in black, in a tone which admitted no rejoinder. "So be it! six months it is," said Jacques; "but in truth Gervaise was quite right when she said--" "The said Jacques Aubry, angered by her coldness, threatened her--" "Oh! oh!" exclaimed Jacques. "Oh! oh!" echoed the judge. "But," the clerk read on, "the said Gervaise-Perrette Popinot held out so stubbornly and courageously that the insolent fellow begged her forgiveness in view of his sincere repentance." "Ah! ah!" muttered Aubry. "Ah! ah!" exclaimed the magistrate. "Poor Gervaise!" Aubry continued, speaking to himself, with a shrug; "what was the matter with her head?" "But," continued the clerk, "his repentance was only feigned; unfortunately, the complainant, in her innocence and purity, allowed herself to be deceived by it, and one evening, when she was imprudent enough to accept refreshments of which the accused invited her to partake, the said Jacques Aubry mixed with her water--" "With her water?" the student interrupted. "The complainant declared that she never drinks wine," said the clerk.--"The said Jacques Aubry mixed an intoxicating decoction with her water." "Look you, Master Clerk," cried Aubry; "what the deuce are you reading from?" "The complainant's deposition." "Impossible!" "Is it so written?" inquired the magistrate. "It is written." "Go on." "After all," said Aubry aside, "the more guilty I am, the surer I shall be of being sent to join Ascanio at the Châtelet. Intoxicating decoction it is. Go on, Master Clerk." "You confess, do you?" queried the judge. "I confess," said the student. "Ah, gallows-bird!" exclaimed the judge, roaring with laughter, and rubbing his hands. "So that," continued the clerk, "poor Gervaise, bereft of her reason, ended by confessing to her seducer that she loved him." "Aha!" said Jacques. "Lucky knave!" murmured the lieutenant criminal, whose little eyes shone. "Why!" cried Aubry; "why, there isn't a word of truth in the whole of it!" "You deny the charge?" "Absolutely." "Write," said the magistrate, "that the accused declares that he is not guilty of any of the charges brought against him." "Wait a moment! wait a moment!" cried the student, who reflected that if he denied his guilt, they would not send him to prison. "So you don't deny it altogether?" queried the judge. "I confess that there is some little truth, not in the form, but in the substance." "Oh! as you have confessed to the decoction," said the judge, "you may as well admit the results." "True," said Jacques, "as I've confessed to the decoction, I admit the rest, Master Clerk. But, upon my word," he added in an undertone, "Gervaise was quite right in saying--" "But that's not all," the clerk interrupted him. "What! that's not all!" "The crime of which the accused was guilty had terrible results. The unhappy Gervaise discovered that she was about to become a mother."