ay God for me and I shall pray for you."

And Gilles was left alone to meditate on his crimes which he was to
confess publicly at the hearing next day. That day was the impressive
day of the trial. The room in which the Tribunal sat was crammed, and
there were multitudes sitting on the stairs, standing in the corridors,
filling the neighbouring courts, blocking the streets and lanes. From
twenty miles around the peasants were come to see the memorable beast
whose very name, before his capture, had served to close the doors those
evenings when in universal trembling the women dared not weep aloud.

This meeting of the Tribunal was to be conducted with the most minute
observance of all the forms. All the assize judges, who in a long
hearing generally had their places filled by proxies, were present.

The courtroom, massive, obscure, upheld by heavy Roman pillars, had been
rejuvenated. The wall, ogival, threw to cathedral height the arches of
its vaulted ceiling, which were joined together, like the sides of an
abbatial mitre, in a point. The room was lighted by sickly daylight
which was filtered through small panes between heavy leads. The azure of
the ceiling was darkened to navy blue, and the golden stars, at that
height, were as the heads of steel pins. In the shadows of the vaults
appeared the ermine of the ducal arms, dimly seen in escutcheons which
were like great dice with black dots.

Suddenly the trumpets blared, the room was lighted up, and the Bishops
entered. Their mitres of cloth of gold flamed like the lightning. About
their necks were brilliant collars with orphreys crusted, as were the
robes, with carbuncles. In silent processional the Bishops advanced,
weighted down by their rigid copes, which fell in a flare from their
shoulders and were like golden bells split in the back. In their hands
they carried the crozier from which hung the maniple, a sort of green
veil.

At each step they glowed like coals blown upon. Themselves were
sufficient to light the room, as they reanimated with their jewels the
pale sun of a rainy October day and scattered a new lustre to all parts
of the room, over the mute audience.

Outshone by the shimmer of the orphreys and the stones, the costumes of
the other judges appeared darker and discordant. The black vestments of
secular justice, the white and black robe of Jean Blouyn, the silk
symars, the red woollen mantles, the scarlet chaperons lined with fur,
seemed faded and