Bred in religious ideas, Birotteau held justice to be what it ought to be in the eyes of men,—­a representation of society itself, an august utterance of the will of all, apart from the particular form by which it is expressed.  The older, feebler, grayer the magistrate, the more solemn seemed the exercise of his function,—­a function which demands profound study of men and things, which subdues the heart and hardens it against the influence of eager interests.  It is a rare thing nowadays to find men who mount the stairway of the old Palais de Justice in the grasp of keen emotions.  Cesar Birotteau was one of those men.

Few persons have noticed the majestic solemnity of that stairway, admirably placed as it is to produce a solemn effect.  It rises, beyond the outer peristyle which adorns the courtyard of the Palais, from the centre of a gallery leading, at one end, to the vast hall of the Pas Perdus, and at the other to the Sainte-Chapelle,—­two architectural monuments which make all buildings in their neighborhood seem paltry.  The church of Saint-Louis is among the most imposing edifices in Paris, and the approach to it through this long gallery is at once sombre and romantic.  The great hall of the Pas Perdus, on the contrary, presents at the other end of the gallery a broad space of light; it is impossible to forget that the history of France is linked to those walls.  The stairway should therefore be imposing in character; and, in point of act, it is neither dwarfed nor crushed by the architectural splendors on either side of it.  Possibly the mind is sobered by a glimpse, caught through the rich gratings, of the Place du Palais-de-Justice, where so many sentences have been executed.  The staircase opens above into an enormous space, or antechamber, leading to the hall where the Court holds its public sittings.

Imagine the emotions with which the bankrupt, susceptible by nature to the awe of such accessories, went up that stairway to the hall of judgment, surrounded by his nearest friends,—­Lebas, president of the Court of Commerce, Camusot his former judge, Ragon, and Monsieur l’Abbe Loraux his confessor.  The pious priest made the splendors of human justice stand forth in strong relief by reflections which gave them still greater solemnity in Cesar’s eyes.  Pillerault, the practical philosopher, fearing the danger of unexpected events on the worn mind of his nephew, had schemed to prepare him by degrees for the joys of this festal day.  Just as Cesar finished dressing, a number of his faithful friends arrived, all eager for the honor of accompanying him to the bar of the Court.  The presence of this retinue roused the honest man to an elation which gave him strength to meet the imposing spectacle in the halls of justice.  Birotteau found more friends awaiting him in the solemn audience chamber, where about a dozen members of the council were in session.