“A la Varade,” said he to his son, “must be a magistrate: his nobility demands it.” When the magistrate was alone, he bitterly regretted that he was not able to pursue a more congenial career, and expend in the gratification of his tastes his income of sixty thousand livres. He often asked himself if a citizen was not justified in withdrawing from such severe duties, when the State possessed many thousands of persons quite competent to fill the vacancy. His wife said “yes,” but his conscience said “no.” Madame de la Varade, who ardently desired to reside in Paris, sometimes said to her lord,-- “Please to explain, _mon ami_, what society gains by substituting a la Varade for a Rabauel--for example--to instruct the big thieves how to draw the little ones to Versailles. Do you imagine that with your name and fortune you could not render service to your country in any other way? A pleasant duty, truly, that which you have chosen. You will exercise your functions for about twenty-five years, and then, as a reward, you will be made President of the Court in some out-of-the-way province.” “As my fathers have done,” replied the husband, “I will do; and, God willing, I hope my sons will imitate my example.” The wife shrugged her shoulders; the mother sighed. Eusebe entered the _cabinet_ of this magistrate, bowed, and waited the examination. “Will you, monsieur,” said the magistrate, after some preliminary formalities, “narrate the circumstances which led to the _rencontre_ between you and M. de la Soulaye?” “But first,” replied Eusebe, eagerly, “I am accused of having inflicted blows and wounds upon my adversary. I desire you to take note that I did not hurt him at all.” “That does not signify,” said the magistrate. “It is a mere form. Come to the facts of the case.” “Is it possible that you are ignorant of them? These gentlemen say that they have told you all.” “No matter: I must needs learn them from you.” “Well, if you desire it,” rejoined Eusebe. And he then narrated his story of the quarrel and the duel. “Sir,” said the magistrate, “it was you who gave the lie.” “Certainly; and in my place you would have done the same.” “I am not here to say what I should have done: I am here only to question you. Was the affair honorably conducted?” “No.” “With what do you reproach your adversary?” “With having lied.” “That is not the point. I speak of his conduct on the field of combat. I have nothing to do with the rest.” “On the field, we were seven in number. My adversary could not have behaved dishonorably had we been but two. I have an arm equal to his own. I do not fear him.” “You are doubtless skilful with the sword?” “I do not know. Until this affair, I had never held a sword on guard.” “Then there is nothing with which you can reproach your adversary?” “Yes: with having lied.” “And are you quite sure?” “Yes, quite sure.” “Then why did you fight?” “Indeed, I don’t know. They told me that honor demanded that I should fight.”