La Bissonnière immediately rose to reply to it, his countenance assuming an expression of grief and indignation. An unqualifiable scandal had taken place; the counsel for the defence had dared to accuse a Brother without producing any serious proof in support of his monstrous allegation. He had done worse: he had denounced as that Brother's accomplices both his superiors and other members of the religious Orders, including even one of high personality, before whom all honest folk bowed with respect. Religion was outraged, anarchist passions were let loose, those who acknowledged neither God nor patriotic feeling would fain precipitate the country into an abyss. For three hours La Bissonnière went on denouncing the enemies of society in flowery language, drawing his little figure erect, as if he felt he were at last rising to the high destiny to which his ambition aspired. As he finished he became ironical; he wished to know if the fact of being a Jew sufficed to make a man innocent; and then he asked the jury for all its severity, for the head of the wretch who had degraded and murdered a little child. Frantic applause burst forth, and Delbos, by his vehement rejoinder full of exasperation, only drew on himself a fresh tempest of insults and threats. It was seven o'clock in the evening when the jurors retired to consider their verdict. As the questions put to them by the Court were few in number, it was hoped that matters would be finished in less than an hour, and that one might then go off to dine. Night had fallen, and the few big lamps placed on the tables did not suffice to illumine the great hall. Candles, which looked like church tapers, had been set up in front of the newspaper reporters, who were still working. The atmosphere was hot and murky, but not a lady quitted her seat, the crowd stubbornly remained there, phantom-like in places according to the play of the lights, which threw great tragic shadows around. All gave full rein to their passions, there was a deafening uproar of voices, with an agitation, a seething and bubbling, as in some fermenting vat. The few Simonists were triumphant; they declared it would be impossible for the jury to convict. And, in spite of the noisy applause bestowed on La Bissonnière's reply, the anti-Simonists, who crowded the hall, showed themselves nervous, trembling lest the expiatory victim should escape them. It was asserted that Jacquin, the foreman of the jury, had spoken to somebody of the anguish he felt in presence of the absolute lack of proofs. And three other jurymen were mentioned as having appeared favourable to the prisoner. Acquittal became possible. Thus there was angry waiting, waiting which lasted and lasted, contrary to all previous expectations. Eight o'clock struck, nine o'clock struck, and still the jurors did not return. They had been shut up for two hours, unable, no doubt, to come to an agreement. This only increased the general uncertainty, and, although the door of the