“May give you scent of the truth.  And here was I, going like a gull into the snare!—­Once more, what could I have been thinking of?”

“It is so difficult to be on guard against certain appearances.”

“You need not tell me so, my dear Morok, you need not tell me so.”

During this mysterious conversation, Dagobert was on thorns; he saw vaguely that a violent storm was about to burst.  He thought only of how he should still keep his anger within bounds.

Morok again approached the judge, and glancing at the orphans, recommenced speaking in a low voice.  “Oh” cried the burgomaster, with, indignation, “you go too far now.”

“I affirm nothing,” said Morok, hastily; “it is a mere supposition founded on—­” and he again brought his lips close to the ear of the judge.

“After all, why not?” resumed the magistrate, lifting up his hands; “such people are capable of anything.  He says that he brings them from the heart of Siberia:  why may not all this prove to be a tissue of impudent falsehoods?—­But I am not to be made a dupe twice,” cried the burgomaster, in an angry tone, for, like all persons of a weak and shifting character, he was without pity for those whom he thought capable of having beguiled his compassion.

“Do not be in a hurry to decide—­don’t give to my words more weight than they deserve,” resumed Morok with a hypocritical affectation of humility.  “I am unhappily placed in so false a position with regard to this man,”—­pointing to Dagober—­“that I might be thought to have acted from private resentment for the injury he has done me; perhaps I may so act without knowing it, while I fancy that I am only influenced by love of justice, horror of falsehood, and respect for our holy religion.  Well—­who lives long enough will know—­and may heaven forgive me if I am deceived!—­In any case, the law will pronounce upon it; and if they should prove innocent, they will be released in a month or two.”

“And, for that reason, I need not hesitate.  It is a mere measure of precaution; they will not die of it.  Besides, the more I think of it, the more it seems probable.  Yes this man is doubtless a French spy or agitator, especially when I compare these suspicions with the late demonstration of the students at Frankfort.”

“And, upon that theory, nothing is better fitted to excite and stir up those hot-headed youths than—­” He glanced significantly at the two sisters; then, after a pause, he added with a sigh, “Satan does not care by what means he works out his ends!”

“Certainly, it would be odious, but well-devised.”

“And then, Mr Burgomaster, look at him attentively:  you will see that this man has a dangerous face.  You will see—­”