“Acquittal is not certain,” resumed the head of the family, “on account of the conditions which my son imposes as to his defence. I have seen him several times in the gaol. His will is unshakable. He will not consent to any defence unless the name of Mrs. Frasne is kept out of it.” With one accord the manufacturer and the old attorney rebelled against this: “It’s impossible. He’s mad.” “It’s treachery.” “He ought not to be listened to.” “So much the worse. Leave him to his fate.” This last cowardly advice came from his cousin Leo. Mr. Roquevillard shut him up with a hurt and angry look, which melted promptly into one of sorrow. The family was in disaccord if one member of it repudiated the joint claims upon it. But in the silence which followed old Uncle Stephen remarked softly: “Myself, I think Maurice is right.” Mr. Roquevillard, upon this unexpected interjection, continued his explanations. “This generosity might be understood by a jury selected from the ranks of the well-to-do. It won’t go down with simple farmers. The main point with them will be the disappearance of the money. It’s a sum the very figure of which will dazzle them. They are more alive to outrages against property than to those against persons. This sum, they will argue, could have been stolen only by _him_ or _her_. If by her, he would say so, and they should acquit him. In case of doubt, they would still acquit him. He doesn’t dare accuse her, therefore he himself is the thief. They have not the same conception of honour as ourselves.” “Honour, honour!” repeated Leo twice over, the too evident disdain of his uncle at his remarks having irritated him. “It’s important, above all things, to avoid a verdict that will dishonour us, his family. I don’t admit any honour but that, myself, honour as recognised by the law.” The oldest member of the family stared insolently at the young man from Lyons. “I beg of you to say no more,” he murmured in a voice that whistled through his scanty row of teeth. “Why?” objected the manufacturer, who showed no deference for age. “Why,” said Uncle Stephen, “because you no longer understand the meaning of certain words.” “Exactly. Words. Big words, when it’s you who are using them,” retorted Leo. By way of conciliation, Charles Marcellaz contributed a legal explanation: “Mrs. Frasne is guilty, but her act doesn’t come within the scope of the law. Theft committed by a wife to the injury of her husband doesn’t permit of any action. In accusing Mrs. Frasne, Maurice doesn’t expose her to any risk, and his testimony is strictly in accordance with the truth.” But Uncle Stephen, whose far-away youth had been a stormy one, pronounced as a court of last resort: “You don’t accuse a woman under any pretext, if you’ve been her lover. I recognise your son, Francis.”