"Well," thought Rigolette, as she returned and reseated herself on the bench, "at least I know this poor woman's address; and I feel quite sure M. Rodolph will assist her directly he knows what trouble she is in, for he always told me whenever I heard of a case of real distress to let him know, and I am sure this is one if ever there was." And here Rigolette suddenly changed the current of her ideas by wondering when it would be her turn to ask to see Germain. A few words as to the preceding scene. Unfortunately it must be confessed that the indignation of the unhappy brother of Jeanne Duport was quite legitimate. Yes, when he said that the law was too dear for the poor he spoke the truth. To plead before the civil tribunals incurs enormous expenses, impossible for workpeople to meet when they can scarcely subsist on the wages they earn. Ought not civil as well as criminal justice to be accessible to all? When persons are too poor to be able to invoke the benefits of any law which is eminently preservative and beneficial, ought not society at its own cost to enable them to attain it out of respect for the honour and repose of families? But let us speak no longer of the woman who must be, for all her life, the victim of a brutal and depraved husband, and speak of Jeanne Duport's brother. This freed prisoner leaves a den of corruption to re-enter the world; he had submitted to his punishment, payed his debt by expiation. What precaution has society taken to prevent him from falling again into crime? None! If the freed convict has the courage to resist evil temptations, he will give himself up to one of those homicidal trades of which we have spoken. Then the condition of the freed convict is much more terrible, painful, and difficult than it was before he committed his first fault. He is surrounded by perils and rocks,--he must have refusal, disdain, and often even the deepest misery. And if he relapses and commits a second crime, you are more severe towards him than for his first fault a thousand times. This is unjust, for it is always the necessity you impose on him that makes him commit the second crime. Yes, for it is demonstrated that, instead of correcting, your penitentiary system depraves; instead of ameliorating, it renders worse; instead of curing slight moral defects, it renders them incurable. The severe punishment inflicted on offenders for the second time would be just and logical if your prisons, rendered moral, purified the prisoners, and if, at the termination of their punishment, good conduct was, if not easy, at least possible for them. If we are astonished at the contradictions of the law, what is it when we compare certain offences with certain crimes, either from the inevitable consequences, or from the immense disproportions which exist between the punishments, awarded to each? The conversation of the prisoner who came to see the bailiff will present one of these overwhelming contrasts. CHAPTER VII.