en daily
received throughout a life hath long since tamed all of pride that ever
dwelt in me."

"Thou hast a daughter present?"

Marguerite pointed to the group which held her child.

"The trial is severe," said the judge, who began to feel compunctions that
were rare to one of his habits, "but it is as necessary to your own future
peace, as it is to justice itself, that the truth should be known. I am
compelled to order thy daughter to advance to the body."

Marguerite received this unexpected command with cold womanly reserve. Too
much wounded to complain, but trembling for the conduct of her child, she
went to the cluster of females, pressed Christine to her heart, and led
her silently forward. She presented her to the chatelain, with a dignity
so calm and quiet, that the latter found it oppressive!

"This is Balthazar's child," she said. Then folding her arms, she retired
herself a step, an attentive observer of what passed.

The judge regarded the sweet pallid face of the trembling girl with an
interest he had seldom felt for any who had come before him in the
discharge of his unbending duties. He spoke to her kindly, and even
encouragingly, placing himself intentionally between her and the dead,
momentarily hiding the appalling spectacle from her view, that she might
have time to summon her courage. Marguerite blessed him in her heart for
this small grace, and was better satisfied.

"Thou wert betrothed to Jacques Colis?" demanded the chatelain, using a
gentleness of voice that was singularly in contrast with his former stern
interrogatories.

The utmost that Christine could reply was to bow her head.

"Thy nuptials were to take place at the late meeting of the Abbaye des
Vignerons--it is our unpleasant duty to wound where we could wish to
heal--but thy betrothed refused to redeem his pledge?"

"The heart is weak, and sometimes shrinks from its own good purposes,"
murmured Christine. "He was but human, and he could not withstand the
sneers of all about him."

The chatelain was so entranced by her gentle and sweet manner that he
leaned forward to listen, lest a syllable of what she whispered might
escape his ears.

"Thou acquittest, then, Jacques Colis of any false intention?"

"He was less strong than he believed himself, mein Herr; he was not equal
to sharing our disgrace, which was put rudely and too strongly before
him."

"Thou hadst consented freely to the marriage thyself, and wert well
disp