ment.

"Do you know Jules F----?" the magistrate persisted. The accused
grudgingly admitted the existence of such a person. "Is he a German?"
asked the magistrate pointedly. The accused pondered. "Would you call
him a Bosche?" persisted the magistrate. "I never _meant_ to call him 'a
Bosche,'" the accused said in an unguarded moment. The magistrate
pounced on him. He had found the range. After that the result was a
foregone conclusion. The duel ended in the accused tearfully admitting
he thought he must have been drunk, and throwing himself on the mercy of
the magistrate.

"It is a grave offence," said the magistrate severely, as he
contemplated the lachrymose delinquent. "An _estaminet_ is a public
place within the meaning of Section 444 of the Code Penal. Vous avez
mechamment impute a une personne un fait precis qui est de nature a
porter atteinte a son honneur." "And calculated to provoke a breach of
the peace," he added. "It is punishable with a term of imprisonment not
exceeding one year." The face of the accused grew long. "Or a fine of
200 francs," he pursued. The lips of the accused quivered. "You may have
to go to a _maison de correction_," continued the magistrate pitilessly.
The accused wept.

I grew more and more interested. If this was a "correctional" offence,
the magistrate must in the ordinary course of things commit the prisoner
to a _chambre de conseil_, thereafter to take his trial before a
Tribunal Correctionnel. But chamber and tribunal were scattered to the
four corners of the earth.

Here, I felt sure, the whole proceedings must collapse and the
magistrate be sadly compelled to admit his impotence. The magistrate,
however, appeared in nowise perturbed, nor did he for a moment relax his
authoritative expression. He was turning over the pages of the _Code
d'Instruction Criminelle_, glancing occasionally at a now wholly
penitent prisoner trembling before the majesty of the law. At last he
spoke. "I will deal with you," he said with an air of indulgence, "under
Chapter VIII. of the Code. You will be bound over to come up for
judgment at the end of the war if called upon. You will deposit a
_cautionnement_ of twenty francs. And now, gentlemen, we are at your
service."

"Fiat justitia ruat coelum," whispered A---- to me, as the prisoner,
deeply impressed, opened a leather purse and counted out four greasy
five-franc notes.

FOOTNOTE:

[27] Defamation. It is a misdemeanour according to Belgian