n undertone.

"Well, I know you would not," exclaimed M. Magloire; "and you would be
right, for you would risk your reputation without the slightest chance
of saving Jacques. Yes, no chance whatever! For after all, let us
suppose, what can hardly be even supposed, you should prove that Jacques
has told the truth, that he has been the lover of the countess. What
would happen then? They arrest the countess. Do they release M. de
Boiscoran on that account? Certainly not! They keep him in prison, and
say to him. 'This woman has attempted her husband's life; but she had
been your mistress, and you are her accomplice.'

"That is the situation, gentlemen!"

M. Magloire had stripped it of all unnecessary comments, of idle
conjecture, and all sentimental phraseology, and placed it before them
as it had to be looked at, in all its fearful simplicity.

Grandpapa Chandore was terrified. He rose, and said in an almost
inaudible voice,--

"Ah, all is over indeed! Innocent, or guilty, Jacques de Boiscoran will
be condemned."

M. Magloire made no reply.

"And that is," continued the old gentleman, "what you call justice!"

"Alas!" sighed M. Seneschal, "it is useless to deny it: trials by jury
are a lottery."

M. de Chandore, driven nearly to madness by his despair, interrupted
him,--

"In other words, Jacques's honor and life depend at this hour on a
chance,--on the weather on the day of the trial, or the health of a
juror. And if Jacques was the only one! But there is Dionysia's life,
gentlemen, my child's life, also at stake. If you strike Jacques, you
strike Dionysia!"

M. Folgat could hardly restrain a tear. M. Seneschal, and even the
doctor, shuddered at such grief in an old man, who was threatened in all
that was dearest to him,--in his one great love upon earth. He had
taken the hand of the great advocate of Sauveterre, and, pressing it
convulsively, he went on,--

"You will save him, Magloire, won't you? What does it matter whether he
be innocent or guilty, since Dionysia loves him? You have saved so many
in your life! It is well known the judges cannot resist the weight of
your words. You will find means to save a poor, unhappy man who once was
your friend."

The eminent lawyer looked cast-down, as if he had been guilty himself.
When Dr. Seignebos saw this, he exclaimed,--

"What do you mean, friend Magloire? Are you no longer the man whose
marvellous eloquence is the pride of our country? Hold your head up: