adge of civilization. Then, after carefully pulling down his
shirt-sleeves over his sinewy arms, he spoke almost as follows:

"I will speak the truth, the whole truth. I take the oath for the second
time; for I have to speak of things that seem contradictory, things that
I cannot explain to myself. I swear before God and man that I will say
what I know, and as I know it, without being influenced for or against
any one."

He lifted his big hand and turned round towards the people with a simple
confidence, as if to say, "You can all see that I am taking an oath,
and you know that I am to be trusted." This confidence of his was not
ill-founded. Since the incident in the first trial the public mind had
been much occupied about this extraordinary man, who had spoken before
the court with so much daring, and harangued the people in presence
of the judges. His conduct had filled all the democrats and
_Philadelphians_ with great curiosity and sympathy. The works of
Beaumarchais were very fashionable among the upper classes, and this
will explain how it was that Patience, though opposed to all the
authorities in the province, yet found himself supported and applauded
by every man who prided himself on his intelligence. They all thought
they saw in him Figaro under a new form. The fame of his private virtues
had spread; for you remember that during my stay in America, Patience
had made himself known among the people of Varenne and had exchanged his
sorcerer's reputation for that of a public benefactor. They had given
him the title of the _great judge_, because he was always ready to
intervene in disputes, and would always settle to the satisfaction of
both sides with admirable good-nature and tact.

This time he spoke in a high, penetrating voice. It was a rich voice
of wide compass. His gestures were quiet or animated, according to the
circumstances, but always dignified and impressive; the expression on
his short, Socratic face was never anything but fine. He had all the
qualities of an orator; but there was no vanity in his display of them.
He spoke in the plain, concise style that he had been obliged to acquire
in his recent intercourse with men, in discussions about their practical
interests.

"When Mademoiselle de Mauprat was shot," he said, "I was not more than a
dozen paces from her; but the brushwood at that spot is so thick that I
could not see more than two paces in front of me. They had persuaded me
to take part i