“In my capacity as president of the benchers, my dear brother, I hasten to request your assistance. I understand your hesitations. In any other circumstances I should understand your refusal. Mr. Roquevillard may have particular reasons for desiring to make the argument for his son, even though generally the case of defending one’s own is confided to others. But he is tried and tired with the weight of his misfortunes, and he runs the risk of presuming too much upon his force of will. You must be on hand, too. This is the way things look to me, and I insist upon it.” The moment duty instead of flattery was invoked, authority instead of persuasion, the jury lawyer definitely threw aside his scruples. All his self-assurance came back to him, and he thrust the old man aside almost rudely. “No, no; it’s impossible. I offered my complete assistance. It must be that or nothing. The plans of the defence have been changed without my being consulted. A line of argument that seems to be decisive is being hidden from me. In these conditions the only thing I can do is to retire from the case, and I retire.” His hardened face showed only wounded pride. He turned toward Mr. Roquevillard, and added with laborious condescension: “Do you want the notes to my argument? They will save you some trouble. They are at your service.” “My dear colleague and friend, think it over further. Don’t leave us in the midst of battle.” “My resolution is taken,” repeated Mr. Battard. “Absolutely?” “Absolutely.” Throughout this last attempt on Mr. Hamel’s part, Mr. Roquevillard had maintained that same air of pride and tranquillity which just now had so disconcerted his two visitors. The president, more concerned than he over the consequences of this defection, still sought, in spite of his natural antipathy for Mr. Battard, to retain his help. “I beg you not to deprive us of your aid,” he said. “I am very sorry, indeed, to disappoint you, believe me,” answered Battard. “Then,” said the father of the accused, deliberately and without any show of emotion, “I’ll ask you for the papers in the case. I want especially the written report of the police commissioner, the abstract of the deposition, the terms of the arrest for defalcation.” This disinvestiture completed the offence to Mr. Battard’s pride. He did not know how to yield to entreaties, but by a very human contradiction neither did he resign himself gracefully to having people supersede him. He took leave of his two colleagues with badly disguised irritation. Outside the office, on the steps of the entrance door, his host got hold of his hand almost by force, and shook it, thanking him warmly for having consented to efface himself. But in this friendly demonstration Mr. Battard only saw the last affront of all, and he ran about town injuring the Roquevillards’ cause in the public mind by telling people of the father’s mental aberration, and the probable conviction of the son to-morrow.