According to custom, these fishermen wore black breeches, a black doublet, and a black mantle, with a white band; on their heads they wore hats with a wide brim. The youngest of these judges was not less than fifty years old. Their attitude was simple and serious; their sunburnt faces and long white or gray hair shone with a Rembrandt light under the sudden ray of sunshine shooting from the narrow windows, and were distinctly outlined on the shadowy light which reigned in the body of the hall. These five old seamen, elected by their corporation on St. Stephen’s Day, justified the choice of their companions. Brave, honest, and pious, they assuredly represented the best of the maritime population of the town and the gulf. The tribunal and the place reserved for those who were to appear before them were separated from the crowd by a rude barrier of wood. We quote from the work, “Voyage and Inspection of M. de Séguiran,” already cited in the preface: “The jurisdiction of the overseers was very simple. Whoso wishes to enter a complaint before these overseers can be heard, but not before he has deposited two sous and eight farthings in the common purse, after which he can demand the party against whom he enters a complaint. The said party is obliged to make the same deposit, and both are heard; and at the end of the argument the eldest of these overseers pronounces judgment according to the counsel of his colleagues.” The secretary of the community called in a loud voice the plaintiffs and defendants. Never had a session excited so much interest in the public mind. Before the arrival of Raimond V. the greater part of those who filled the hall were still ignorant of the baron’s intentions, whether or not he would appear before the tribunal. The smaller number, however, hoped that he would respect the privileges of the community. But when they learned from the curious ones outside that the gentleman’s carriage of state was already in the square, they eagerly watched every movement of the constantly increasing multitude. The crier was obliged to elevate his voice to its utmost to command silence, and Peyrou, the watchman, as assignee of the overseers, at last administered a severe rebuke to the clamorous crowd, and order finally prevailed. The tribunal then regulated some business of little importance, but with as much care and deliberate circumspection, and as much attention to detail, as if one of the first lords of Provence was not expected every moment to appear before them. The multitude was compact when Raimond V. presented himself at the door, and he had great difficulty in entering the large hall with Honorât de Berrol. “Make way, make way for monseigneur!” cried several eager voices. “Have the overseers called me, my children?” said Raimond V., affectionately. “No, monseigneur.” “Then I will wait here with you. It will be time to make way for me when I am called before the tribunal.”