smile. He was much
amused.

'Yes, read the letter too,' said Epinchard. But after a phrase or two
there were cries of 'Enough, enough, that will do!' They were ashamed
of such a letter of Rotrou. It was a crying forgery, a mere schoolboy's
imitation, the sentences misshapen, and half the words not known at the
supposed date. How could they have been so blind?

'You see, gentlemen, that we could scarcely throw the whole burden upon
our unfortunate colleague,' said Epinchard; and turning to the Permanent
Secretary begged him to abandon proceedings which could bring nothing
but discredit upon the whole Society and the great Cardinal himself.

But neither the fervour of the appeal nor the magnificence of the
orator's attitude, as he pointed to the insignia of the Sacred Founder,
could prevail over the stubborn resolution of Astier-Rehu. Standing firm
and upright before the little table in the middle of the room, which
was used as a desk for the reading of communications, with his fists
clenched, as if he feared that his decision might be wrung out of his
hands, he repeated that 'Nothing, I assure you, nothing' would alter his
determination. He struck the hard wood angrily with his big knuckles, as
he said, 'Ah, gentlemen, I have waited, for reasons like these, too long
already! I tell you, my "Galileo" is a bone in my throat! I am not rich
enough to buy it up, and I see it in the shop windows, advertising me as
the accomplice of a forger.' What was his object! Why, to tear out the
rotten pages with his own hand and burn them before all the world!
A trial would give him the opportunity. 'You talk of ridicule? The
Academie is above the fear of it; and as for me, a butt and a beggar as
I must be, I shall have the proud satisfaction of having protected
my personal honour and the dignity of history. I ask no more.' Honest
Crocodilus! In the beat of his rhetoric was a sound of pure probity,
which rang strangely where all around was padded with compromise and
concealment. Suddenly the usher announced, 'Four o'clock, gentlemen.'
Four o'clock! and they had not finished the arrangements for
Ripault-Babin's funeral.

'Ah, we must remember Ripault-Babin!' observed Danjou in a mocking
voice. 'He has died at the right moment!' said Laniboire with mournful
emphasis. But the point of his epigram was lost, for the usher was
crying, 'Take your places'; and the President was ringing his bell On
his right was Desminieres the Chancellor, a