The melancholy and sympathizing expression of the great lawyer changed
instantly. He sternly glanced at the prisoner, and his eye spoke of
amazement and indignation.

"There are things," he said, "which it is rash to affirm when one is not
able to support them with proof. Consider"--

"My situation forces me to tell all."

"Why, then, did you wait so long?"

"I hoped I should be spared such a fearful extremity."

"By whom?"

"By the countess."

M. Magloire's face became darker and darker.

"I am not often accused of partiality," he said. "Count Claudieuse is,
perhaps, the only enemy I have in this country; but he is a bitter,
fierce enemy. To keep me out of the chamber, and to prevent my obtaining
many votes, he stooped to acts unworthy of a gentleman. I do not like
him. But in justice I must say that I look upon the countess as the
loftiest, the purest, and noblest type of the woman, the wife, and the
mother."

A bitter smile played on Jacques's lips.