, how much more so what he could have said; it
was nothing, less than a breath. What could he depend upon? what hope
for? They had no faith, not even in his scorn, not even in his silence.
And Bastide locked himself up, and looked into the dawning countenance
of Death.

It was already growing dark when the King's evidence, Madame Mirabel,
was finally summoned to the court-room, and the whole tired assemblage
started up convulsively like a single body. She entered, and in spite
of the close air of the room, she seemed to be shivering. She trembled
visibly on taking the oath. Monsieur d'Enjalran urged her to testify
in accordance with the truth. In a strange, uniformly dull tone, yet
speaking rather hurriedly, she repeated the statement that she had made
before the examining magistrate. An oppressive silence pervaded the
hall, and her voice, in consequence, grew steadily lower. She knew now
a multitude of details, had seen the long knife lying on the table, had
seen Bancal and Colard bring in a wooden tub, and the lawyer Fualdes
sitting with bowed shoulders near the lamp, writing. She had also seen
the mysterious stranger with the wooden leg, and noticed that Bach and
Bousquier unfolded a large white cloth. To the question why she had
appeared in men's clothes, she gave no reply. And when, with fingers
convulsively clasped, head bowed, her slender body bent slightly
forward, writhing almost imperceptibly, as if in the clutches of an
animal, yet with that blissful, sweet smile which lent her countenance
an expression of subdued madness, she related with bated breath how
Bastide had embraced and kissed her in the dark adjoining room, he
sprang up suddenly, wrung his hands in despair and made a few hurried
steps until he stood at Clarissa's side. His heavy breathing was
audible to all.

The presiding officer rebuked him for his behavior, which he designated
as indelicate, but Bastide cried in a firm, ringing voice: "Before God,
who hears me and will judge me, I declare that it is all an awful lie.
I have never as much as touched that woman or set eyes upon her."

Clarissa turned as white as chalk. It seemed to her as if she had but
just now heard the clinking of the shattered mirror which she had
dashed to the floor after the dance. When the prosecuting attorney
asked her to continue, she remained silent; her eyes rolled and her
whole body shook convulsively.

"Speak out!" exclaimed Bastide, addressing her, and indignati