y this memory, M. Marambot felt the tears rising to his eyes.

The lawyer noticed it, opened his arms with a broad gesture, spreading
out the long black sleeves of his robe like the wings of a bat, and
exclaimed:

"Look, look, gentleman of the jury, look at those tears. What more can I
say for my client? What speech, what argument, what reasoning would be
worth these tears of his master? They, speak louder than I do, louder
than the law; they cry: 'Mercy, for the poor wandering mind of a while
ago! They implore, they pardon, they bless!"

He was silent and sat down.

Then the judge, turning to Marambot, whose testimony had been excellent
for his servant, asked him:

"But, monsieur, even admitting that you consider this man insane, that
does not explain why you should have kept him. He was none the less
dangerous."

Marambot, wiping his eyes, answered:

"Well, your honor, what can you expect? Nowadays it's so hard to find
good servants--I could never have found a better one."

Denis was acquitted and put in a sanatorium at his master's expense.

MY WIFE

It had been a stag dinner. These men still came together once in a while
without their wives as they had done when they were bachelors. They would
eat for a long time, drink for a long time; they would talk of
everything, stir up those old and joyful memories which bring a smile to
the lip and a tremor to the heart. One of them was saying: "Georges, do
you remember our excursion to Saint-Germain with those two little girls
from Montmartre?"

"I should say I do!"

And a little detail here or there would be remembered, and all these
things brought joy to the hearts.

The conversation turned on marriage, and each one said with a sincere
air: "Oh, if it were to do over again!" Georges Duportin added: "It's
strange how easily one falls into it. You have fully decided never to
marry; and then, in the springtime, you go to the country; the weather is
warm; the summer is beautiful; the fields are full of flowers; you meet a
young girl at some friend's house--crash! all is over. You return
married!"

Pierre Letoile exclaimed: "Correct! that is exactly my case, only there
were some peculiar incidents--"

His friend interrupted him: "As for you, you have no cause to complain.
You have the most charming wife in the world, pretty, amiable, perfect!
You are undoubtedly the happiest one of us all."

The other one continued: "It's not my fault."

"How so?"