, was not required; he would be
good enough to give his name. His name was De Mortemart. De Mortemart!
Perhaps, said the judge, he might be a relative of the Duc de
Mortemart? Yes, the officer replied, he might be; in effect he was a
son of that personage. The judge was pleased to hear it; the duke was
universally known and respected, and--the acoustic qualities of the
court were bad--would M. de Mortemart take a seat on the bench, where
he and his brother judges could better hear him? The officer did not
mind, though he was not inconvenienced where he was, but, of course,
if their lordships desired. And so forth.

"Now," the judge said with great sweetness, when he had reached the
exalted elevation, "would M. de Mortemart give himself the trouble to
state how the fellow before them had fallen into his hands?" M. de
Mortemart did give himself the trouble--telling, however, exactly what
he thought fit, and also omitting many facts which he did not feel
disposed to mention--to wit, he contented himself by saying that the
"gentleman" in the dock had been betrayed by a woman into their
hands--a "treacherous reptile" he termed her--but he said nothing
about St. Georges having acknowledged that he had been a soldier of
France once, and had afterward fought on the English side against
France. To his young and chivalrous mind it was, indeed, a terrible
thing that any Frenchman should join with England against his own
country, but--he did not say so to the judge trying that man. The case
was bad enough against him without that.

In answer to further questions put with great politeness and an
evident desire on the judge's part not to bore the son of the Duc de
Mortemart too much, he stated that according to orders, he had
escorted the gentleman in trouble to Paris, and that he had ridden by
that gentleman's side all the way, treating him as well as possible.
Yes, he was bound to say he sympathized with the prisoner (he did not
say that he wished to Heaven the prisoner had availed himself of many
opportunities he had given him of escaping); he thought he had been
hardly treated--especially by the woman who was, in truth, a viper.
Did he mean to say, the judge asked almost apologetically, that he had
allowed the prisoner to ride unbound by his side? Yes, he did mean to
say so; the prisoner had made no attempt, either, to take advantage of
the license. Did Monsieur de Mortemart think that was wise on his part
as an officer? Yes, o