It was the family of the accused, who had come in, and now occupied the seats assigned them close by the platform.
The Marquis de Boiscoran had on his arm Miss Chandore, who wore with great grace and dignity a dark gray dress, trimmed with cherry-colored ribbons. M. de Chandore escorted the Marchioness de Boiscoran. The marquis and the baron looked cold and reserved. The mother of the accused appears utterly overcome. Miss Chandore, on the contrary, is lively, does not seem in the least concerned, and returns with a bright smile the few greetings she receives from various parts of the court-room.
But soon they are no longer an object of curiosity.
The attention of all is now directed towards a large table standing before the judges, and on which may be seen a number of articles covered by large red cloth.
These are the articles to be used in evidence.
In the meantime it strikes eleven o’clock. The sheriff’s officers move about the room, seeing that every thing is in order.
Then a small door opens on the left, and the counsel for the defence enter.
Our readers know who they are. One is M. Magloire, the ornament of our bar; the other, an advocate from the capital, M. Folgat, quite young, but already famous.
M. Magloire looks as he does on his best days, and smilingly converses with the mayor of Sauveterre; while M. Folgat opens his blue bag, and consults his papers.
Half-past eleven!