“Upon my word!” he said, “I never thought the countess would take my treachery so coolly. When she came out from you just now, she asked me, in the same tone as every day, how I had found her husband, and what was to be done. I told her”-- But the rest of the sentence remained unspoken: the doctor had become aware of M. Folgat’s utter consternation. “Why, what on earth is the matter?” he asked. The young advocate looked at him with an utterly bewildered air. “This is the matter: I ask myself whether I am awake or dreaming. This is the matter: that, if this woman is guilty, she possesses an audacity beyond all belief.” “How, if? Have you changed your mind about her guilt?” M. Folgat looked altogether disheartened. “Ah!” he said, “I hardly know myself. Do you not see that I have lost my head, that I do not know what to think, and what to believe?” “Oh!” “Yes, indeed! And yet, doctor, I am not a simpleton. I have now been pleading five years in criminal courts: I have had to dive down into the lowest depths of society; I have seen strange things, and met with exceptional specimens, and heard fabulous stories”-- It was the doctor’s turn, now, to be amazed; and he actually forgot to trouble his gold spectacles. “Why? What did the countess say?” he asked. “I might tell you every word,” replied M. Folgat, “and you would be none the wiser. You ought to have been here, and seen her, and heard her! What a woman! Not a muscle in her face was moving; her eye remained limpid and clear; no emotion was felt in her voice. And with what an air she defied me! But come, doctor, let us be gone!” They went out, and had already gone about a third down the long avenue in the garden, when they saw the oldest daughter of the countess coming towards them, on her way to the house, accompanied by her governess. Dr. Seignebos stopped, and pressing the arm of the young advocate, and bending over to him, he whispered into his ear,-- “Mind!” he said. “You know the truth is in the lips of children.” “What do you expect?” murmured M. Folgat. “To settle a doubtful point. Hush! Let me manage it.” By this time the little girl had come up to them. It was a very graceful girl of eight or nine years, light haired, with large blue eyes, tall for her age, and displaying all the intelligence of a young girl, without her timidity. “How are you, little Martha?” said the doctor to her in his gentlest voice, which was very soft when he chose. “Good-morning, gentlemen!” she replied with a nice little courtesy. Dr. Seignebos bent down to kiss her rosy cheeks, and them, looking at her, he said,-- “You look sad, Martha?” “Yes, because papa and little sister are sick,” she replied with a deep sigh. “And also because you miss Valpinson?” “Oh, yes!” “Still it is very pretty here, and you have a large garden to play in.” She shook her head, and, lowering her voice, she said,-- “It is certainly very pretty here; but--I am afraid.” “And of what, little one?”