ess Vedrine!' called the usher at the top of his voice.

At the same moment a huge roar of laughter ran over the thronging crowd
and came through the door as it swung open. 'They don't seem bored in
there,' said the municipal officer posted in the passage. The witnesses'
room, which had been gradually emptying during the chat of the two
schoolfellows, now contained only Freydet and the caretaker, who, scared
at having to appear in court, was twisting the strings of her cap like
a lunatic. The worthy candidate, on the contrary, thought he had
an unparalleled opportunity of burning incense at the shrine of the
Academie Francaise and its Permanent Secretary. Left alone, when the
good woman's turn came, he paced up and down the room, planted himself
in front of the window, and let off well-rounded periods accompanied by
magnificent gestures of his black gloves. But he was misunderstood in
the house opposite; and a fat hand at the end of a bare arm pulled aside
a pink curtain and waved to him. Freydet, flushing crimson with shame,
moved quickly away from the window, and took refuge in the passage.

'The Public Prosecutor is speaking now,' said the doorkeeper in a
whisper, as a voice in a tone of assumed indignation rang through the
heated air of the court--'You played,' it said, 'on the innocent passion
of an old man.'

'But how about me?' said Freydet, thinking aloud.

'I expect you have been forgotten.'

Freydet was at first puzzled, but presently disgusted at the strange
fate which prevented his coming forward in public as the champion of the
Academie, and so getting himself talked about and seeing his name
for once in the papers. Just then a shout of laughter greeted the
enumeration of the forgeries in the Mesnil-Case collection; letters from
kings, popes, empresses, Turenne, Buffon, Montaigne, La Boetie, Clemence
Isaure, and the mere mention of the absurd list showed the extraordinary
simplicity of the historian who had been befooled by the little dwarf.
But at the thought that this disrespectful laugh was a scoff at his
master and protector, Freydet felt an indignation not altogether free
from selfishness. He felt that he was himself hit by the recoil, and his
candidature damaged again. He broke away, mingling in the stir of the
general exodus amid a confusion of footmen running to and fro in the
beautiful waning light of a fine June day, while the parasols, pink,
white, mauve, or green opened like so many large fl