Up to this point Cæsar, awed by the stern manner of the judge, and, trusting to the superior intelligence and experience of his older sister, had been a silent although deeply moved spectator of the scene. But when Nadine collapsed, he sprang forward, and spoke out in clear brave tones.
"Mr. Magistrate, it is no use your torturing my sister like that. You cannot by so doing compel her to lie. She never deceived anybody in her life. What she has told you, sir, is perfectly true, every word of it. The money that you accuse her of stealing was given her by Madame Pradère, the lady of the Mayor of the town of Morainville."
"Madame Pradère!" exclaimed the magistrate, jumping up from his chair. "Did you say Madame Pradère?"
"Yes, sir," responded Cæsar. "Madame Pradère who lives in a fine mansion at Morainville."
"Pradère! Pradère!" repeated the magistrate. "I know him, he was lieutenant in the regiment when I retired. We were very good friends, Pradère and I, and we soon shall find out if you are speaking the truth. I shall write immediately to Morainville and institute inquiries into your affair."
"Then we are saved!" cried Cæsar, throwing out his arms in a gesture of relief and joy.
This exclamation was uttered in a tone of such manifest sincerity that the magistrate, who was not really as hard-hearted as he seemed, and who had been severe towards the Tambys because it is the custom in French courts to assume that every person brought them is a criminal, and to compel them to clear themselves, instead of considering them innocent until they were proven guilty, was profoundly impressed. He began to fear that he had been guilty of injustice and undue harshness.
"After all," he reflected somewhat uneasily, "the story told by these children is very touching, and why may it not be true? I know that as a rule these mountebanks are not by any means good characters, but perhaps these orphans are an exception. I must deal more gently with them." So, with a much less severe expression, and softer tone, he said to them, Nadine by this time having recovered her self-possession:
"My children, to-morrow we shall clear up your affairs. I shall write to Morainville requesting an immediate answer, and, if you have told the truth, you shall be free. But I am obliged to recommit you to prison until to-morrow. I shall see, however, that you are well cared for."