The barrister left him; in a few minutes he had experienced almost simultaneously, and confusedly blended, every emotion possible. The words of this indifferent person had by turns pierced his heart like needles of ice and like red-hot sword-blades. When he found that the trial was not over, he breathed again; but he could not have said whether what he felt were satisfaction or pain. He walked up to several groups and listened to what they were saying; as the trial list was very heavy, the President had selected for this day two simple and short cases. They had begun with the infanticide, and were now engaged with the relapsed convict, the "return horse." This man had stolen apples, but it was proved that he had already been at the Toulon galleys. It was this that made his case bad. His examination and the deposition of the witnesses were over; but there were still the speech for the defence and the summing up, and hence it would not be finished till midnight. The man would probably be condemned, for the public prosecutor was sharp, and did not let his accused escape; he was a witty fellow who wrote verses. An usher was standing near the door communicating with the court, and he asked him,-- "Will this door be opened soon?" "It will not be opened," said the usher. "Will it not be opened when the court resumes its sitting?" "It has resumed," the usher replied, "but the door will not be opened." "Why not?" "Because the hall is full." "What! is there no room?" "For not a soul more. The door is closed, and no one can go in." The usher added after a pause,--"There are certainly two or three seats behind the President, but he only admits public officials to them." After saying this, the usher turned his back on him. He withdrew with hanging head, crossed the waiting-room, and slowly went down the stairs, hesitating at every step. He was probably holding counsel with himself; the violent combat which had been going on in him since the previous day was not finished, and every moment he entered some new phase. On reaching the landing he leaned against the banisters and folded his arms; but all at once he took his pocket-book, tore a leaf from it, wrote in pencil upon it, "M. Madeleine, Mayor of M. sur M.;" then he hurried up the stairs, cleft the crowd, walked up to the usher, handed him the paper, and said to him with an air of authority,--"Hand this to the President." The usher took the paper, glanced at it, and obeyed. CHAPTER VIII. INSIDE THE COURT.