; but that does not matter. His best friends
will know him no longer: no hand will touch his hand hereafter; and
even those who were most proud of his affection will pretend to have
forgotten his name."

"I understand your grief but too well, madam," said M. Magloire.

"My grief is not as great as my indignation," she broke in. "Jacques
must be avenged, and he shall be avenged! I am only twenty, and he is
not thirty yet: there is a whole life before us which we can devote to
the work of his rehabilitation; for I do not mean to abandon him. I!
His undeserved misfortunes make him a thousand times dearer to me, and
almost sacred. I was his betrothed this morning: this evening I am his
wife. His condemnation was our nuptial benediction. And if it is true,
as grandpapa says, that the law prohibits a prisoner to marry the woman
he loves, well, I will be his without marriage."

Dionysia spoke all this aloud, so loud that it seemed she wanted all the
earth to hear what she was saying.

"Ah! let me reassure you by a single word, madam," said M. Folgat. "We
have not yet come to that. The sentence is not final."

The Marquis de Boiscoran and M. de Chandore started.

"What do you mean?"

"An oversight which M. Galpin has committed makes the whole proceeding
null and void. You will ask how a man of his character, so painstaking
and so formal, should have made such a blunder. Probably because he was
blinded by passion. Why had nobody noticed this oversight? Because fate
owed us this compensation. There can be no question about the matter.
The defect is a defect of form; and the law provides expressly for the
case. The sentence must be declared void, and we shall have another
trial."

"And you never told us anything of that?" asked Dionysia.

"We hardly dared to think of it," replied M. Magloire. "It was one of
those secrets which we dare not confide to our own pillow. Remember,
that, in the course of the proceedings, the error might have been
corrected at any time. Now it is too late. We have time before us;
and the conduct of Count Claudieuse relieves us from all restraint of
delicacy. The veil shall be torn now."

The door opened violently, interrupting his words. Dr. Seignebos
entered, red with anger, and darting fiery glances from under his gold
spectacles.

"Count Claudieuse?" M. Folgat asked eagerly.

"Is next door," replied the doctor. "They have had him down on a
mattress, and his wife is by his side. What a pr