“You are then their—­”

“I am their faithful servant, Mr. Burgomaster; and now that my horse has been killed, what can I do for them?  Come, you are good, you have perhaps children of your own; if, one day, they should find themselves in the position of my two little orphans—­with no wealth, no resources in the world, but an old soldier who loves them, and an old horse to carry them along—­if, after being very unfortunate from their birth—­yes, very unfortunate, for my orphans are the daughters of exiles—­they should see happiness before them at the end of a journey, and then, by the death of their horse, that journey become impossible—­tell me, Mr. Burgomaster, if this would not touch your heart?  Would you not find, as I do, that the loss of my horse is irreparable?”

“Certainly,” answered the burgomaster, who was not ill natured at bottom, and who could not help taking part in Dagobert’s emotion; “I now understand the importance of the loss you have suffered.  And then your orphans interest me:  how old are they?”

“Fifteen years and two months.  They are twins.”

“Fifteen years and two months—­that is about the age of my Frederica.”

“You have a young lady of that age?” cried Dagobert, once more awaking to hope; “ah, Mr. Burgomaster!  I am really no longer uneasy about my poor children.  You will do us justice.”

“To do justice is my duty.  After all, in this affair, the faults are about equal on both sides.  You tied up your horse badly, and the brute tamer left his door open.  He says:  ‘I am wounded in the hand.’  You answer:  ’My horse has been killed—­and, for a thousand reasons, the loss of my horse is irreparable.’”

“You make me speak better than I could ever speak on my own account, Mr. Burgomaster,” said the soldier, with a humble, insinuating smile; “but ’tis what I meant to express—­and, as you say yourself, Mr. Burgomaster, my horse being my whole fortune, it is only fair—­”

“Exactly so,” resumed the magistrate, interrupting the soldier; “your reasons are excellent.  The Prophet—­who is a good and pious man with all has related the facts to me in his own way; and then, you see, he is an old acquaintance.  We are nearly all zealous Catholics here, and he sells to our wives such cheap and edifying little books, with chaplets and amulets of the best manufacture, at less than the prime cost.  All this, you will say, has nothing to do with the affair; and you will be right in saying so:  still I must needs confess that I came here with the intention—­”

“Of deciding against me, eh, Mr. Burgomaster?” said Dagobert, gaining more and more confidence.  “You see, you were not quite awake, and your justice had only one eye open.”

“Really, master soldier,” answered the judge with good humor, “it is not unlikely; for I did not conceal from Morok that I gave it in his favor.  Then he said to me (very generously, by the way):  ’Since you condemn my adversary, I will not aggravate his position by telling you certain things—­’”