racticed with him for many years. If he were sure
of himself, he would be pitiless. If he is kind, he is afraid. This
concession is a door which he keeps open, in case of defeat."

The eminent counsel was right. However well convinced M. Galpin might be
of Jacques's guilt, he was still very much troubled about his means of
defence. Twenty examinations had elicited nothing from his prisoner but
protestations of innocence. When he was driven to the wall, he would
reply,--

"I shall explain when I have seen my counsel."

This is often the reply of the most stupid scamp, who only wants to gain
time. But M. Galpin knew his former friend, and had too high an opinion
of his mind, not to fear that there was something serious beneath his
obstinate silence.

What was it? A clever falsehood? a cunningly-devised _alibi_? Or
witnesses bribed long beforehand?

M. Galpin would have given much to know. And it was for the purpose
of finding it out sooner, that he had given the permission. Before he
granted it, however, he had conferred with the commonwealth attorney.
Excellent M. Daubigeon, whom he found, as usual, admiring the beautiful
gilt edging of his beloved books, had treated him badly.

"Do you come for any more signatures?" he had exclaimed. "You shall have
them. If you want any thing else, your servant.

"'When the blunder is made,
It is too late, I tell thee, to come for advice.'"

However discouraging such a welcome might be, M. Galpin did not give up
his purpose. He said in his bitterest tone,--

"You still insist that it is a blunder to do one's duty. Has not a crime
been committed? Is it not my duty to find out the author, and to have
him punished? Well? Is it my fault if the author of this crime is an old
friend of mine, and if I was once upon a time on the point of marrying
a relation of his? There is no one in court who doubts M. de Boiscoran's
guilt; there is no one who dares blame me: and yet they are all as cold
as ice towards me."

"Such is the world," said M. Daubigeon with a face full of irony. "They
praise virtue; but they hate it."

"Well, yes! that is so," cried M. Galpin in his turn. "Yes, they blame
people who have done what they had not the courage to do. The attorney
general has congratulated me, because he judges things from on high
and impartially. Here cliques are all-powerful. Even those who ought
to encourage and support me, cry out against me. My natural ally, the
commonwealth attorney,