As we have said, it was Sunday morning; after mass the overseers of the port held their sessions in the large town hall, situated near the new harbour. It was a massive, heavy building, constructed of brick, and had many small windows. On each side rose the dwellings of the wealthiest citizens. The site of the town hall was separated from the port by a narrow little street. A noisy crowd of citizens, fishermen, sailors, artisans, and country people were pressing into the yard, and many had already seated themselves at the door of the town hall, so as to be present at the session of the overseers. The citizens, instructed by the recorder, circulated in groups among the multitude, and spread the news that Raimond V. despised the rights of the people by refusing to appear before the overseers. Master Talebard-Talebardon, one of the consuls, a large man, corpulent and florid, with a shrewd, sly look, wearing his felt hood and official robe, occupied with the recorder the centre of one of these animated groups of which we have spoken, and which was composed of men of all sorts and conditions. “Yes, my friends,” said the consul, “Raimond V. treats Christians as he treats the dogs he hunts with. The other day he threatened this respectable Master Isnard whom you see here with his whip after having exposed him to the fury of two of the fiercest bulls from Camargne; it was a miracle that this worthy officer of the admiralty of Toulon escaped the awful peril that threatened his life,” said the consul, with an important air. “A real miracle, for which I return thanks to Our Lady of la Garde,” added the recorder, devoutly. “I never saw such furious bulls.” “By St Elmo, my patron!” said a sailor, “I would gladly have given my new scarf to have been a witness of that race. I have never seen bull-fights except in Barcelona.” “Without taking into account that recorder-toreadors are very rare,” said another sailor. Master Isnard, deeply wounded at inspiring so little interest, replied, with a doleful air, “I assure you, my friends, that it is a terrible, a formidable thing to be exposed to an attack from these ferocious animals.” “Since you have been pursued by bulls,” asked an honest tailor, “do tell us, M. Recorder, if it is true that angry bulls have the tail curled up, and that they shut their eyes when they strike?” Master Talebard-Talebardon shrugged his shoulders, and replied, sternly, to the inquirer: “You think then, cut-cloth, that a person amuses himself by looking at a bull’s tail and eyes, when he is charging on him?” “That is true, that is true,” replied several assistants. “Certain it is,” continued the consul, wishing to move the crowd to pity the recorder, and irritate it against the baron, “certain it is that this officer of justice and of the king narrowly escaped being a victim to the diabolical wickedness of Raimond V.”