These simple words, uttered with as much kindness as dignity, had a tremendous effect upon the crowd. The veneration inspired by the old gentleman, who but a moment before had been so menaced, was so great that the people formed a sort of circle of solemnity around him. An officer took great pains to inform the secretary that the baron had entered the hall, and that it would be proper to call his case before others on the docket. The secretary, profiting from a short interval, submitted this suggestion to Peyrou, the assignee or syndic. The latter simply replied: “Secretary, what is the next name on your list?” “Jacques Brun, pilot, versus Pierre Baif, sailmaker.” “Then call Jacques Brun and Pierre Baif.” Peyrou owed much to the baron’s family. He was warmly attached to the house of Anbiez. In thus acting, he did not wish to make a display of his rights and exaggerate their importance. He was only obeying the spirit of justice and independence found in popular institutions. It was without hesitation, and without the least intention to offend Raimond V., that the watchman said, in a loud and firm voice: “Secretary, call another plaintiff.” The dispute between Jacques Brun, the pilot, and the sailmaker, Pierre Baif, was of little importance. It was promptly, but carefully, decided by the overseers in the midst of the general preoccupation, and the cause of the baron immediately followed. Notwithstanding the presence of the Baron des Anbiez, it was not known that he intended to appear before the tribunal. Naturally, the crowd remembered the insinuations of Master Isnard. The latter insisted that the baron was capable of manifesting his contempt for the tribunal in a very startling manner. At last the secretary called, in an excited voice: “Master Talebard-Talebardon, consul of the city of La Ciotat, versus Raimond V., Baron des Anbiez.” A long murmur of satisfied impatience circulated around the hall. “Now, my children,” said the old gentlemen to those who surrounded him, “make way, I pray you, not for the baron, but for the suitor who is going before his judges.” The enthusiasm inspired by these words of Raimond V. proved that, in spite of their instinctive thirst for equality, the people always had an immense liking for persons of rank who submitted to the common law. The crowd, dividing on each side, made a wide avenue, in the middle of which Raimond V. walked with a grave and majestic step. The old gentleman wore the sumptuous costume of the time: a doublet with points, a short mantle of brown velvet, richly braided with gold, wide trousers of the same material, which formed a sort of skirt descending below the knee. His scarlet silk stockings disappeared in the funnel of his short boots made of cordovan leather, and equipped with long gold spurs. A costly shoulder-belt sustained his sword, and the white plumes of his black cap fell over his collar of Flanders lace.