“My voice has never carried very far,” said the president, pursuing his inward reasonings, “and age has broken it. I’ve never known how to do anything but make things clear, not move people. However, I shall be on hand. I’ll say a few words about the family of the accused, and dwell on his own good character. But there must be some one else to make the argument. I can only be your assistant, my friend.”
He did not offer any opinion on Maurice’s attitude, perhaps did not explain it to himself. He maintained that defiant, not to say disdainful, attitude toward women which you find often in the latter days of an austere and well-disciplined life. The honour of a Mrs. Frasne did not seem to him worthy of so much consideration. There was a story told of him as illustrating the excess of this trait in him, namely, that he had bowed once to a lady of doubtful reputation on the street, and she had taken great credit to herself for it, since his respect carried such great weight everywhere; and that when he heard about it afterwards he never again saluted anybody in the city’s streets for fear of repeating his mistake.
“Will the jury guess the generous reason of his silence, do you think?” Mr. Roquevillard asked himself aloud, knowing his son better. “It isn’t likely.”
“It’s impossible,” declared Mr. Hamel plainly. “Your son will be lost, though there’s no reason for shielding this person. But haven’t we the right to defend him in spite of himself?”
“How do you mean?”
“A defence is obligatory at trials, as you know, as well as I. In default of a lawyer of the accused’s own choosing, the president appoints an official one for him. If Mr. Battard is officially appointed, and it will be enough if I, as president, mention him to the presiding judge, he will be completely at liberty again to make his argument. Yet he would run the risk of being repudiated by his client.”
“But such a repudiation would influence the jury unfavourably.”
“I don’t see any other way. At least——”
And the fine old man stopped talking, deaf to the repeated questions put to him by Mr. Roquevillard.
“The case is lost,” the latter murmured at last.