The two Misses Lavarande had to bear all the practical difficulties arising from this sore trial:  they went and came, looking as pale as ghosts, whispering in a low voice, and walking on tiptoe, as if there had been a death in the house.

Dionysia alone showed greater energy as the troubles increased.  She did not indulge in much hope.

“I know Jacques will be condemned,” she said to M. Folgat.  But she said, also, that despair belonged to criminals only, and that the fatal mistake for which Jacques was likely to suffer ought to inspire his friends with nothing but indignation and thirst for vengeance.

And, while her grandfather and the Marquis de Boiscoran went out as little as possible, she took pains to show herself in town, astonishing the ladies “in good society” by the way in which she received their false expressions of sympathy.  But it was evident that she was only held up by a kind of feverish excitement, which gave to her cheeks their bright color, to her eyes their brilliancy, and to her voice its clear, silvery ring.  Ah! for her sake mainly, M. Folgat longed to end this uncertainty which is so much more painful than the greatest misfortune.

The time was drawing near.

As Dr. Seignebos had announced, the president of the tribunal, M.
Domini, had already arrived in Sauveterre.

He was one of those men whose character is an honor to the bench, full of the dignity of his profession, but not thinking himself infallible, firm without useless rigor, cold and still kind-hearted, having no other mistress but Justice, and knowing no other ambition but that of establishing the truth.

He had examined Jacques, as he was bound to do; but the examination had been, as it always is, a mere formality, and had led to no result.

The next step was the selection of a jury.

The jurymen had already begun to arrive from all parts of the department.  They lodged at the Hotel de France, where they took their meals in common in the large back dining-room, which is always specially reserved for their use.

In the afternoon one might see them, looking grave and thoughtful, take a walk on the New-Market Square, or on the old ramparts.

M. Gransiere, also, had arrived.  But he kept strictly in retirement in his room at the Hotel de la Poste, where M. Galpin every day spent several hours in close conference with him.

“It seems,” said Mechinet in confidence to M. Folgat,—­“it seems they are preparing an overwhelming charge.”

The day after, Dionysia opened “The Sauveterre Independent,” and found in it an announcement of the cases set down for each day,—­