more incensed against his victims than was necessary, a too implacable enemy, ready to trample their dead bodies under foot. Of a verity the notary had chosen his spokesman well. He could not have desired more gall and venom in a single mouth. Mr. Roquevillard, now and then during this speech, when the worst thrusts were delivered, turned quietly toward his son or son-in-law, reassuring them by his calm and even countenance, and showing that his soul was not distressed by this tempest that waged about him. “I call upon the advocate-general to speak,” articulated the presiding judge, in a mournful voice, as much as to say, What use is there in a second charge? Mr. Vallerois, attracted by curiosity, had come into court and seated himself behind the advocate-general, Mr. Barré, who was in the section reserved for the public minister. He bent forward to address some words to his colleague on the floor. But the latter seemed to scorn his advice as importunate, and confined his remarks to saying that he relied upon the good sense of the jurors to find for the plaintiff, the case being already adjudged against the defendant by default. “I call upon the defence,” began the president more briskly, evidently pleased to have escaped a long harangue. “Are you ready?” asked Mr. Hamel of Mr. Roquevillard, who was seated by his side. “Yes, of course. Why?” “Then you speak first. If necessary, I’ll supplement you.” Mr. Roquevillard saw that the old gentleman was still reeling beneath an attack whose methods, according to his old-time traditions, were inadmissible, and proposed to reserve his efforts in case his colleague should be overcome by emotion in his speech or his argument be inferior or incomplete. During these special conferences, bits of conversation broke out again here and there among the audience, rising and spreading like dust in the wake of a procession. “The Roquevillards,” remarked the lawyer Coulanges, who ranged himself on Mr. Frasne’s side, “will never raise their heads again after such a drubbing.” “Oh, well, now,” objected Mr. Paillet, who was always in a good humour, “wait till you hear the father’s reply, and then look out for Mr. Porterieux.” A man of the people, a frequenter of court trials, overheard him. “Yes, the old man is tough,” he commented more racily. And Mr. Paillet laughed and insisted: “You’ll see whether he knows how to bite yet, and if his teeth are sharp.” “He looks very tired,” murmured a lady compassionately. “Say, rather, he looks quite broken up,” replied Mr. Coulanges, tidying some small matter about his clothes. “Two old men aren’t worth one young one,” he added, with a manner that was as much as to say, “especially with women.” Then he pointed down to the two lawyers, who were exchanging their observations not far from where Mr. Battard sat, with his fingers in his beard, watching to see the defence’s final downfall.