ickler for his rights, and almost absurdly
attached to his preserves. I have also told you, that, if he declared
my public opinions to be abominable, I looked upon his as ridiculous and
dangerous. As for the countess, I have simply said, half in jest, that
so perfect a person was not to my taste; and that I should be very
unhappy if my wife were a Madonna, who hardly ever deigned to put her
foot upon the ground."

"And that was the only reason why you once pointed your gun at Count
Claudieuse? A little more blood rushing to your head would have made you
a murderer on that day."

A terrible spasm betrayed M. de Boiscoran's fury; but he checked
himself, and said,--

"My passion was less fiery than it may have looked. I have the most
profound respect for the count's character. It is an additional grief to
me that he should have accused me."

"But he has not accused you!" broke in M. Daubigeon. "On the contrary,
he was the first and the most eager to defend you."

And, in spite of the signs which M. Galpin made, he continued,--

"Unfortunately that has nothing to do with the force of the evidence
against you. If you persist in keeping silence, you must look for a
criminal trial for the galleys. If you are innocent, why not explain the
matter? What do you wait for? What do you hope?"

"Nothing."

Mechinet had, in the meantime, completed the official report.

"We must go," said M. Galpin

"Am I at liberty," asked M. de Boiscoran, "to write a few lines to my
father and my mother? They are old: such an event may kill them."

"Impossible!" said the magistrate.

Then, turning to Anthony, he said,--

"I am going to put the seals on this room, and I shall leave it in the
meanwhile in your keeping. You know your duty, and the penalties to
which you would be subject, if, at the proper time, every thing is not
found in the same condition in which it is left now. Now, how shall we
get back to Sauveterre?"

After mature deliberation it was decided that M. de Boiscoran should
go in one of his own carriages, accompanied by one of the gendarmes.
M. Daubigeon, the magistrate, and the clerk would return in the
mayor's carriage, driven by Ribot, who was furious at being kept under
surveillance.

"Let us be off," said the magistrate, when the last formalities had been
fulfilled.

M. de Boiscoran came down slowly. He knew the court was full of furious
peasants; and he expected to be received with hootings. It was not so.
T