nd which gave rise to my doubts--at first I simply
tried to prove that those facts were false, taking, from the depositions
of the witnesses, only that which would militate against their truth and
rejecting all the rest, with a terrible simplicity of bad faith. And in
the end, in order to dissipate my last scruples, I told myself, just as
you told me, "That is the business of the defence; it isn't mine!"
Listen, and you'll see to what point the exercise of the magistrate's
office distorts our natures, makes us unjust and cruel. At first I had a
feeling of delight when I saw that the President, in his
cross-examination, was throwing no light whatever on this series of
little facts. It was my profession speaking in me, my profession, do you
see? Oh, what poor creatures we are, what poor creatures!

MADAME VAGRET. Perhaps the jury won't find him guilty?

VAGRET. It will find him guilty.

MADAME VAGRET. Or it may find there are extenuating circumstances.

VAGRET. No. I adjured them too earnestly to refuse to do so. I was
zealous enough, wasn't I? Violent enough?

MADAME VAGRET. That's true. Why did you make your indictment so
passionately?

VAGRET. Ah, why, why? Long before the hearing of the case it was so
clearly understood by everybody that the prisoner was the criminal! And
then it all went to my head, it intoxicated me--the way they talked. I
was the spokesman of humanity, I was to reassure the countryside, I was
to restore tranquillity to the family, and I don't know what else! So
then--I felt I must show myself equal to the part intrusted to me. My
first indictment was relatively moderate--but when I saw the celebrated
counsel making the jurymen weep, I thought I was lost; I felt the
verdict would escape me. Contrary to my habit, I replied. When I rose to
my feet for the second time I was like a man fighting, who has just had
a vision of defeat, and who therefore fights with the strength of
despair. From that moment Etchepare, so to speak, no longer existed. I
was no longer concerned to defend society or sustain my accusation; I
was contending against the advocate; it was a trial of orators, a
competition of actors; I had to be the victor at all costs. I had to
convince the jury, resume my hold on it, wring from it the double "yes"
of the verdict. I tell you, Etchepare no longer counted; it was I who
counted, my vanity, my reputation, my honor, my future. It's shameful, I
tell you, shameful. At any cost I wante