ring for which she would have to blush."

She spoke thus, and at the same time was red with shame, grief, and
anger. She began to hate M. Daburon.

"I had no such insulting thought as you imagine, mademoiselle," said the
magistrate. "I was only wondering why M. de Commarin went secretly to
your house, when his approaching marriage gave him the right to present
himself openly at all hours. I still wonder, how, on such a visit, he
could get his clothes in the condition in which we found them."

"That is to say, sir," replied Claire bitterly, "that you doubt my
word!"

"The circumstances are such, mademoiselle,--"

"You accuse me, then, of falsehood, sir. Know that, were we criminals,
we should not descend to justifying ourselves; we should never pray nor
ask for pardon."

Mademoiselle d'Arlange's haughty, contemptuous tone could only anger the
magistrate. How harshly she treated him! And simply because he would not
consent to be her dupe.

"Above all, mademoiselle," he answered severely, "I am a magistrate; and
I have a duty to perform. A crime has been committed. Everything points
to M. Albert de Commarin as the guilty man. I arrest him; I examine him;
and I find overwhelming proofs against him. You come and tell me that
they are false; that is not enough. So long as you addressed me as a
friend, you found me kind and gentle. Now it is the magistrate to whom
you speak: and it is the magistrate who answers, 'Prove it.'"

"My word, sir,--"

"Prove it!"

Mademoiselle d'Arlange rose slowly, casting upon the magistrate a look
full of astonishment and suspicion.

"Would you, then, be glad, sir," she asked, "to find Albert guilty?
Would it give you such great pleasure to have him convicted? Do you then
hate this prisoner, whose fate is in your hands? One would almost think
so. Can you answer for your impartiality? Do not certain memories weigh
heavily in the scale? Are you sure that you are not, armed with the law,
revenging yourself upon a rival?"

"This is too much," murmured the magistrate, "this is too much!"

"Do you know the unusual, the dangerous position we are in at this
moment? One day, I remember, you declared your love for me. It appeared
to me sincere and honest; it touched me. I was obliged to refuse you,
because I loved another; and I pitied you. Now that other is accused
of murder, and you are his judge; and I find myself between you two,
praying to you for him. In undertaking the investigation y