“As I mean to keep it two days longer,” he thought on his way home, “why should I not show it to this Paris lawyer who has dome down with the marchioness?  Nothing can prevent me, as far as I see, since that poor Galpin, in his utter confusion, has forgotten to put me under oath.”

But he paused.  According to the laws of medical jurisprudence, had he the right, or not, to communicate a paper belonging to the case to the counsel of the accused?  This question troubled him; for, although he boasted that he did not believe in God, he believed firmly in professional duty, and would have allowed himself to be cut in pieces rather than break its laws.

“But I have clearly the right to do so,” he growled.  “I can only be bound by my oath.  The authorities are clear on that subject.  I have in my favor the decisions of the Court of Appeals of 27 November, and 27 December, 1828; those of the 13th June, 1835; of the 3d May, 1844; of the 26th June, 1866.”

The result of this mediation was, that, as soon as he had breakfasted, he put his report in his pocket, and went by side streets to M. de Chandore’s house.  The marchioness and the two aunts were still at church, where they had thought it best to show themselves; and there was no one in the sitting-room but Dionysia, the old baron, and M. Folgat.  The old gentleman was very much surprised to see the doctor.  The latter was his family physician, it is true; but, except in cases of sickness, the two never saw each other, their political opinions were so very different.

“If you see me here,” said the physician, still in the door, “it is simply because, upon my honor and my conscience, I believe M. Boiscoran is innocent.”

Dionysia would have liked to embrace the doctor for these words of his; and with the greatest eagerness she pushed a large easy-chair towards him, and said in her sweetest voice,—­

“Pray sit down, my dear doctor.”

“Thanks,” he answered bruskly.  “I am very much obliged to you.”  Then turning to M. Folgat, he said, according to his odd notion,—­

“I am convinced that M. Boiscoran is the victim of his republican opinions which he has so boldly professed; for, baron, your future son-in-law is a republican.”

Grandpapa Chandore did not move.  If they had come and told him Jacques had been a member of the Commune, he would not have been any more moved.  Dionysia loved Jacques.  That was enough for him.

“Well,” the doctor went on, “I am a Radical, I, M.”—­

“Folgat,” supplied the young lawyer.

“Yes, M. Folgat, I am a Radical; and it is my duty to defend a man whose political opinions so closely resemble mine.  I come, therefore, to show you my medical report, if you can make any use of it in your defence of M. Boiscoran, or suggest to me any ideas.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the young man.  “That is a very valuable service.”

“But let us understand each other,” said the physician earnestly.  “If I speak of listening to your suggestions, I take it for granted that they are based upon facts.  If I had a son, and he was to die on the scaffold I would not use the slightest falsehood to save him.”