"Then take care that she is not disturbed on my account," said Cloarek, as he entered his office. The person who was waiting for him was a tall, stout man about forty years of age, of herculean stature, with a coarse face, and clad in countrified garments. Bowing awkwardly to Yvon, he asked: "Are you Judge Cloarek?" "Yes, monsieur." "I am a friend of Father Leblanc, at Gien. You remember him, don't you?" "Yes, and a very worthy man he is. How is his health?" "Very good, judge. It was he who said to me: 'If you're in trouble, go to Judge Cloarek, he is always kind to us poor folks.'" "What can I do for you?" "I am the father of a young man who is soon to be tried before your court." "To what case do you allude, monsieur?" "To the case of Joseph Rateau," said the big man, with a meaning wink, "charged with forgery--only forgery." Cloarek, surprised and displeased at the careless manner in which the father spoke of the weighty accusation that was hanging over his son, answered, sternly: "Yes, monsieur, a prisoner, Joseph Rateau, who is accused of the crime of forgery, is soon to be tried." "Yes, judge, and as there's no use beating about the bush, I may as well say that my son did it, and then, like a fool, allowed himself to be caught." "Take care what you say, monsieur. This is a very grave admission on your part." "Oh, well, there is no use denying it, judge. It's as plain as the nose on your face; but for that, do you suppose I would have come here--" "Not another word, monsieur; not another word!" exclaimed Yvon, crimsoning with indignation and anger. "I quite agree with you, judge. What is the use of talking so much, anyway? Actions speak louder than words." And putting his hand in one of the pockets of his long overcoat, he drew out a roll of money and, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger, he remarked, with a cunning smile and another knowing wink: "There are fifty louis in here, and if you secure my son's acquittal, you shall have another fifty." The austerity and incorruptibility of the early days of the republic had given place to a deplorable laxness of morals, so the petitioner, believing his case won, triumphantly deposited his roll of gold on a corner of a desk near the door. Cloarek, quite beside himself with rage now, was about to give vent to his wrath and indignation when, his eyes chancing to fall upon a portrait of his wife that was hanging on the wall opposite him, he remembered that she might be disturbed and frightened by the noise, as she occupied the room directly over his office, so, with an almost superhuman effort, he managed to control himself and, picking up his hat, said to the countryman: "Take your money. We will talk this matter over outside." "The countryman, fancying that the judge was influenced solely by prudential motives, put the money back in his pocket, and, taking his big stick unsuspectingly, followed Cloarek out of the house.