"But you still hear witnesses, or whence the conviction?" he said in a carefully controlled voice.
"It is Dangeau, our Dangeau!" shouted a woman near the front. "Let him speak if he wants to: what does he know of the girl?"
He recognised little Louison, hanging to her big husband's arm, and sent her a smiling nod of thanks.
"Witnesses, by all means," shrugged Tinville, to whom Hébert had been whispering. "Only be quick, Citizen, and remember it is a serious thing to try to justify a conspirator." He turned and whispered back, "He 'll talk his head off if we give him the chance—devil speed him!" then leaned across the table and inquired:
"What do you know of the accused?"
"I know her motive for changing her name."
"Oh, you know her motive—eh?"
Dangeau raised his voice.
"A patriotic one. She came to Paris, she witnessed the corruption and vice of aristocrats, and she determined to come out from among them and throw in her lot with the people."
Mademoiselle turned slowly and faced him. Now if she spoke, if she demurred, if she even looked a contradiction of his words, they were both lost—both.