Madame Vagret. I will forgive you all the more readily since I'm told you have had such a success to-day as will make all the advocates of the district jealous of you.
Ardeuil is left to himself.
La Bouzole [touching him on the shoulder] Young man—come, sit down by me—as a favor. Do you realize that it won't take many trials like to-day's to get you struck off the rolls?
Ardeuil. I couldn't be struck off the rolls because—
La Bouzole. Hang it all—a man does himself no good by appearing singular.
Ardeuil. Singular! But you yourself—Well, the deliberations are secret, but for all that I know you stand for independence and goodness of heart in this Court.
La Bouzole. Yes, I've permitted myself that luxury—lately.
Ardeuil. Lately?
La Bouzole. Yes, yes, my young friend, for some little time. Because for some little time I've been cured of the disease which turns so many honest fellows into bad magistrates. That disease is the fever of promotion. Look at those men there. If they weren't infected by this microbe, they would be just, kindly gentlemen, instead of cruel and servile magistrates.
Ardeuil. You exaggerate, sir. The French magistracy is not—