will not deceive you, for he
resigned his office of Attorney-General last night, that he might
henceforth devote his eloquence to the service of his own noble
thoughts. You will hear him, perhaps, to-day, though truly, I dread
his appearing for his own sake as much as I desire it for that of the
accused."

"I care not for myself," said Fournier; "truth is with me a passion, and
I would have it taught in all times and all places."

He that spoke was a young man, whose face, pallid in the extreme, was
full of the noblest expression. His blond hair, his light-blue eyes,
his thinness, the delicacy of his frame, made him at first sight
seem younger than he was; but his thoughtful and earnest countenance
indicated that mental superiority and that precocious maturity of soul
which are developed by deep study in youth, combined with natural energy
of character. He was attired wholly in black, with a short cloak in the
fashion of the day, and carried under his left arm a roll of documents,
which, when speaking, he would take in the right hand and grasp
convulsively, as a warrior in his anger grasps the pommel of his sword.
At one moment it seemed as if he were about to unfurl the scroll, and
from it hurl lightning upon those whom he pursued with looks of fiery
indignation--three Capuchins and a Franciscan, who had just passed.

"Pere Guillaume," pursued M. du Lude, "how is it you have brought with
you only your sons, and they armed with their staves?"

"Faith, Monsieur, I have no desire that our girls should learn to dance
of the nuns; and, moreover, just now the lads with their staves may
bestir themselves to better purpose than their sisters would."

"Take my advice, my old friend," said the Count, "and don't bestir
yourselves at all; rather stand quietly aside to view the procession
which you see approaching, and remember that you are seventy years old."

"Ah!" murmured the old man, drawing up his twelve sons in double
military rank, "I fought under good King Henriot, and can play at sword
and pistol as well as the worthy 'ligueurs';" and shaking his head he
leaned against a post, his knotty staff between his crossed legs, his
hands clasped on its thick butt-end, and his white, bearded chin
resting on his hands. Then, half closing his eyes, he appeared lost in
recollections of his youth.

The bystanders observed with interest his dress, slashed in the fashion
of Henri IV, and his resemblance to the Bearnese monarch in