ommitted, and was seized with terror.
All things conspired to overwhelm me with fear; for immediately a
dreadful storm arose, and the loud thunder seemed to pursue the
murderer. I thought the world was at an end. Trembling, I continued
my journey, resolving never to reveal what I had heard; for the
criminal may belong to these parts, and the life of a poor old blind
man is at the mercy of every one. But when the judge spoke of a
corpse being found so near to the place where I heard the voice, I
could not avoid a sudden exclamation. I have now told all; God grant
that no evil comes to me from it!'

During this relation Laurence Bigot appeared absorbed in a deep
reverie, which lasted long after the blind man ceased to speak. Then
addressing Gervais: 'Old man,' said he, 'I wish to ask you a
question; reflect well before answering it. Do you remember exactly
the voice that you heard that day on the hill, which replied to your
questions and threatened you? Do you think that you could recognise
it again--recognise it so as not to confound it with any other?'

'Yes, my lord advocate,' cried Gervais immediately: 'yes! even as I
should recognise the voice of my mother, if she were living still,
poor woman!'

'But,' said the judge, 'have you considered that eight or nine months
have passed since then?'

'It seems but a few hours ago,' answered the blind man. 'My terror
was so great, that even now I seem always to hear the voice that
cried for mercy, and that which spoke to me, and the awful thunder.'
And when Bigot still doubted, Gervais, lifting his hands to heaven,
said: 'God is good, and forsakes not the poor blind. Since I lost my
sight, I can hear wonderfully. Call the people of Argenteuil; they
will tell you how they amuse themselves with embarrassing me, and
saying, in counterfeited tones, "Who speaks to thee?" Ask them if
they have ever succeeded in deceiving me!' The people cried out that
all that the blind man said was true; his knowledge of voices was
wonderful. Some hours after, Laurence Bigot departed for Rouen, and
everything went on as usual in the village of Argenteuil. Bigot
conveyed Gervais with him to Rouen.

In the sixteenth century, the great hall of audience of the Norman
parliament was renowned for its beauty. The ceiling was of ebony,
studded with graceful arabesques in gold, azure, and vermilion. The
tapestry worked in fleurs-de-lis, the immense fireplace, the gilded
wainscot, the violet-coloured _