s companion was his _fidus Achates_, M. Fernand
Desmoulin, the painter, who had already acted as his bodyguard at the
time of the great trial in Paris. Versailles was reached in due course,
and the judicial proceedings began under circumstances which have been
chronicled too often to need mention here. When M. Zola had retired from
the court, allowing judgment to go against him by default, he was joined
by Maitre Labori, his counsel, and the pair of them returned to Paris in
the vehicle which had brought M. Zola from the city in the morning. M.
Desmoulin found a seat in another carriage.

The brougham conveying Messrs. Zola and Labori was driven to the
residence of M. Georges Charpentier, the eminent publisher, in the Avenue
du Bois de Boulogne, and there they were presently joined by M. Georges
Clemenceau, Mme. Zola, and a few others. It was then that the necessity
of leaving France was pressed upon M. Zola, who, though he found the
proposal little to his liking, eventually signified his acquiescence.

The points urged in favour of his departure abroad were as follows: He
must do his utmost to avoid personal service of the judgment given
against him by default, as the Government was anxious to cast him into
prison and thus stifle his voice. If such service were effected the law
would only allow him a few days in which to apply for a new trial, and as
he could not make default a second time, and could not hope at that stage
for fresh and decisive evidence in his favour, or for a change of tactics
on the part of the judges, this would mean the absolute and irrevocable
loss of his case.

On the other hand, by avoiding personal service of the judgment he would
retain the right to claim a new trial at any moment he might find
convenient; and thus not only could he prevent his own case from being
closed against him and becoming a _chose jugee_, but he would contribute
powerfully towards keeping the whole Dreyfus affair open, pending
revelations which even then were foreseen. And, naturally, England which
so freely gives asylum to all political offenders, was chosen as his
proper place of exile.

The amusing story of the nightgown tucked under his arm and the bank
notes sewn up in his coat is, of course, pure invention. A few toilet
articles were pressed upon him, and his wife emptied her own purse into
his own. That was all. Then he set out for the Northern Railway Station,
where he caught the express leaving for Calais a