The famous night of the fire at Valpinson had been a godsend to the
good people of Sauveterre. They had henceforth an inexhaustible topic
of discussion, ever new and ever rich in unexpected conjectures,--the
Boiscoran case. When people met in the streets, they simply asked,--

"What are they doing now?"

Whenever, therefore, M. Galpin went from the court-house to the prison,
or came striding up National Street with his stiff, slow step, twenty
good housewives peeped from behind their curtains to read in his face
some of the secrets of the trial. They saw, however, nothing there but
traces of intense anxiety, and a pallor which became daily more marked.
They said to each other,--

"You will see poor M. Galpin will catch the jaundice from it."

The expression was commonplace; but it conveyed exactly the feelings of
the ambitious lawyer. This Boiscoran case had become like a festering
wound to him, which irritated him incessantly and intolerably.

"I have lost my sleep by it," he told the commonwealth attorney.
Excellent M. Daubigeon, who had great trouble in moderating his zeal,
did not pity him particularly. He would say in reply,--

"Whose fault is it? But you want to rise in the world; and increasing
fortune is always followed by increasing care.

"Ah!" said the magistrate. "I have only done my duty, and, if I had to
begin again, I would do just the same."