Having spoken, he resumed his seat, proud, indifferent, and apparently oblivious to the murmur which ran through the audience, the soldiers of the guard and even to the platform, at the sound of his vibrant voice. The despair of the poor peasant women had been reawakened, and their sobs and moans filled the immense hall. The retired officers had grown even more pale and gloomy; and tears streamed down the wrinkled cheeks of several. “That one is a man!” they were thinking. The abbe leaned over and whispered in the ear of Maurice: “Evidently Chanlouineau has some plan. He intends to save your father. How, I cannot understand.” The judges were conversing in low tones with considerable animation. A difficulty had presented itself. The prisoners, ignorant of the charges which would be brought against them, and not expecting instant trial, had not thought of procuring a defender. And this circumstance, bitter mockery! frightened this iniquitous tribunal, which did not fear to trample beneath its feet the most sacred rules of justice. The judges had decided; their verdict was, as it were, rendered in advance, and yet they wished to hear a voice raised in defence of those who were already doomed. It chanced that three lawyers, retained by the friends of several of the prisoners, were in the hall. They were the three men that Maurice, on his entrance, had noticed conversing near the door of the chapel. The duke was informed of this fact. He turned to them, and motioned them to approach; then, pointing to Chanlouineau: “Will you undertake this culprit’s defence?” he demanded. For a moment the lawyers made no response. This monstrous _seance_ had aroused a storm of indignation and disgust within their breasts, and they looked questioningly at each other. “We are all disposed to undertake the prisoner’s defence,” at last replied the eldest of the three; “but we see him for the first time; we are ignorant of his grounds of defence. We must ask a delay; it is indispensable, in order to confer with him.” “The court can grant you no delay,” interrupted M. de Sairmeuse; “will you accept the defence, yes or no?” The advocate hesitated, not that he was afraid, for he was a brave man: but he was endeavoring to find some argument strong enough to trouble the conscience of these judges. “I will speak in his behalf,” said the advocate, at last, “but not without first protesting with all my strength against these unheard-of modes of procedure.” “Oh! spare us your homilies, and be brief.” After Chanlouineau’s examination, it was difficult to improvise there, on the spur of the moment, a plea in his behalf. Still, his courageous advocate, in his indignation, presented a score of arguments which would have made any other tribunal reflect. But all the while he was speaking the Duc de Sairmeuse fidgeted in his gilded arm-chair with every sign of angry impatience.