h
a color like Seine water when it was muddy and strewn with fragments
of charcoal from a sunken barge. He looked at the floor, listening and
passing judgment. His attitude was terrifying. He stood there like
the dreadful broom to which Decamps has given the power of revealing a
crime. Now and then, in the course of conversation, the Marquise tried
to get some tacit advice; but however eager her questioning, he was as
grave and as rigid as the statue of the Commendatore.

The worthy Popinot, sitting on the edge of his chair in front of the
fire, his hat between his knees, stared at the gilt chandeliers, the
clock, and the curiosities with which the chimney-shelf was covered,
the velvet and trimmings of the curtains, and all the costly and elegant
nothings that a woman of fashion collects about her. He was roused from
his homely meditations by Madame d'Espard, who addressed him in a piping
tone:

"Monsieur, I owe you a million thanks----"

"A million thanks," thought he to himself, "that is too many; it does
not mean one."

"For the trouble you condescend----"

"Condescend!" thought he; "she is laughing at me."

"To take in coming to see an unhappy client, who is too ill to go
out----"

Here the lawyer cut the Marquise short by giving her an inquisitorial
look, examining the sanitary condition of the unhappy client.

"As sound as a bell," said he to himself.

"Madame," said he, assuming a respectful mien, "you owe me nothing.
Although my visit to you is not in strict accordance with the practice
of the Court, we ought to spare no pains to discover the truth in cases
of this kind. Our judgment is then guided less by the letter of the law
than by the promptings of our conscience. Whether I seek the truth here
or in my own consulting-room, so long as I find it, all will be well."

While Popinot was speaking, Rastignac was shaking hands with Bianchon;
the Marquise welcomed the doctor with a little bow full of gracious
significance.

"Who is that?" asked Bianchon in a whisper of Rastignac, indicating the
dark man.

"The Chevalier d'Espard, the Marquis' brother."

"Your nephew told me," said the Marquise to Popinot, "how much you are
occupied, and I know too that you are so good as to wish to conceal your
kind actions, so as to release those whom you oblige from the burden of
gratitude. The work in Court is most fatiguing, it would seem. Why have
they not twice as many judges?"

"Ah, madame, that would not b