Hickman.

On arriving before Justice Claiborne, it required all the authority of
both sheriff and justice to obtain silence. A partial lull, however,
enabled the latter to proceed with the case.

"Now, gentlemen!" said he, speaking in a firm, magisterial tone, "I am
ready to hear the charge against this young man. Of what is he accused,
Colonel Hickman?" inquired the justice, turning to the sheriff.

"Of negro-stealing, I believe," replied the latter.

"Who prefers the charge?"

"Dominique Gayarre," replied a voice from the crowd, which I recognised
as that of Gayarre himself.

"Is Monsieur Gayarre present?" inquired the justice.

The voice again replied in the affirmative, and the fox-like face of the
avocat now presented itself in front of the rostrum.

"Monsieur Dominique Gayarre," said the magistrate, recognising him,
"what is the charge you bring against the prisoner? State it in full
and upon oath."

Gayarre having gone through the formula of the oath, proceeded with his
plaint in true lawyer style.

I need not follow the circumlocution of legal phraseology. Suffice it
to say, that there were several counts in his indictment.

I was first accused of having endeavoured to instigate to mutiny and
revolt the slaves of the plantation Besancon, by having interfered to
prevent one of their number from receiving his _just_ punishment!
Secondly, I had caused another of these to strike down his overseer; and
afterwards had induced him to run away to the woods, and aided him in so
doing! This was the slave Gabriel, who had just that day been captured
in my company. Thirdly and Gayarre now came to the cream of his
accusation.

"Thirdly," continued he, "I accuse this person of having entered my
house on the night of October the 18th, and having stolen therefrom the
female slave Aurore Besancon."

"It is false!" cried a voice, interrupting him. "It is false! _Aurore
Besancon_ is _not a slave_!"

Gayarre started, as though some one had thrust a knife into him.

"Who says that?" he demanded, though with a voice that evidently
faltered.

"I!" replied the voice; and at the same instant a young man leaped upon
one of the benches, and stood with his head overtopping the crowd. It
was D'Hauteville!

"I say it!" he repeated, in the same firm tone. "_Aurore Besancon is no
slave, but a free Quadroon_! Here, Justice Claiborne," continued
D'Hauteville, "do me the favour to read this document!" At the same