"I don't know her," he
replied gloomily, "I have never seen her."

And once more Monsieur Jausion smiled, as if to correct a parsing
error, and murmured: "That is not possible; Madame Mirabel, dressed at
that time as a man, and with a hat with green feathers, was in the
Bancal house, and was led by you yourself to the street, where you
received her oath. I beg you to call it to mind."

Bastide's face contracted as if at the annoying persistence of a fly,
and he repeated in a loud, energetic tone: "I don't know the lady. I
have never seen her." And his tightly compressed lips betrayed his firm
resolve to remain silent.

Monsieur Jausion adjusted his wig and looked troubled. "What answer
have you to that, Madame?" he asked, addressing Clarissa.

"He may not know that I saw him," she said in a whisper, but her voice
had the penetrating quality of the chirping of a cricket.

Bastide turned toward her once more, and in the somewhat oblique glance
of his wearily brilliant eyes there was a mixture of curiosity and
scorn, no more, however, than would be bestowed upon a mushroom or a
spider. Inwardly he weighed, as it were, the slender, childlike form,
wondered casually at the agitation of her gestures, her flashing eyes,
the helpless twitching of her lips, wondered at the lace lying on the
floor, and thought he was dreaming when he became aware that an
imploring gesture of her hands was meant for him.

The magistrate sprang up and, with distorted face, cried: "Do not jest
with us, Madame, it may cost you dear. Speak out, then! A forced oath
is not valid! The peace of your fellow-citizens, the peace of the
country is at stake. Free yourself from the spell of the wretched
being! Your infamous smile, Grammont, will be laid to your account on
the day of the sentence."

Counselor Pinaud stepped forward and murmured a few words into the ear
of Bastide, who lifted his arms, and with an expression of consuming
rage pressed his clenched, chained hands to his eyes. Clarissa
staggered to the magistrate's table, and while a deadly pallor
overspread her cheeks, she shrieked: "It is all a lie! Lie! Lie!"

Monsieur Jausion measured her from head to foot. "Then I place you in
the position of an accused person, Madame, and declare you under
arrest."

A gleam of mournful satisfaction flitted over Clarissa's features.
Swiftly, with the lightning-like wheeling of a dancer, she turned
toward Bastide Grammont, looked at him as one looks