At one end of the hall, seated in great padded chairs let into niches, were four judges clad in scarlet robes, with huge wigs upon their heads, while one, who was undoubtedly D'Argenson, wore above his wig a richly laced three-cornered hat, as a symbol that he represented the sovereign. At his feet sat his registrar, or secretary, with a long table before him covered with a great crimson cloth that hung down to the ground, and also with innumerable papers, while at either end of the table stood sergeants-at-arms with maces. In the midst of the court, or hall, near to these, was a railed-in space, within it two small wooden stools, and to these the sergeants motioned that both De Chevagny and Bertie should approach, while, as they did so, the registrar handed up to each of the judges papers which were copies of the interrogatories about to be administered. At another table, with some papers also before him, sat De Launey, shivering and shaking and smiling in exactly the same way that Bertie had seen him do more than two years ago. Poor wretch! smiles and shivers were alike to be soon over for him now; in another few months the worst form of paralysis was to end his life. As De Chevagny and Bertie took their seats upon the stools in the inclosure, the judges half rose and bowed to them (a ceremony always observed, except when the worst class of _détenus_ were brought before them), and, on their salutation being returned, D'Argenson, glancing down his paper of interrogatories, prepared to address De Chevagny, the first on his list. This judge, who sat as president, and was reported to work harder than any other twenty men in the French King's service, sitting, indeed, in the law courts during the whole of each day, and being able, consequently, to only make his examinations of the prisons at night, was a strange man to observe. His complexion was as swarthy as a mulatto's, his eyes enormously large and black, his eyebrows each as big as an ordinary man's moustache, while his reputation for austerity had spread through the whole kingdom. Yet he possessed also, in contradistinction to his appearance, a voice as soft and sweet as a girl's, or De Launey's own, and hands--one of which, covered with brilliants, generally lay extended on the desk before him--as white as marble. "Monsieur the Marquis de Chevagny," he began now--while as he did so the old man rose from the stool and faced him as he leaned upon the rail--"Monsieur de Chevagny, you have been a resident in this fortress for a long period. I perceive you came here on the 30th of January, 1704," and the silvery tones ceased for a moment as though awaiting an answer. "It is true," De Chevagny replied, "true." And he bent his head.