The justice, when he saw the broken cup and his beautiful bride in tears, flew into so violent a rage toward Colin that his nose was as violet-colored as Marietta’s well-known hat-band. He immediately despatched his bailiffs to bring the criminal before him.
Colin came, overwhelmed with grief. Mother Manon now repeated her complaint with great eloquence before justice, bailiffs, and scribes.—But Colin listened not. He stepped to Marietta and whispered to her: “Forgive me, dear Marietta, as I forgive thee. I broke thy cup unintentionally; but thou, thou hast broken my heart!”
“What whispering is that?” cried Justice Hautmartin, with magisterial authority. “Harken to this accusation, and defend yourself.”
“I have naught to defend. I broke the cup against my will,” said Colin.
“That I verily believe,” said Marietta, sobbing. “I am as guilty as he; for I offended him—then he threw the ribbon and flowers to me. He could not help it.”
“Well!” cried Mother Manon. “Do you intend to defend him? Mr. Justice, pronounce his sentence. He has broken the cup, and he does not deny it.”
“Since you can not deny it, Mr. Colin,” said the Justice, “you must pay three hundred livres for the cup, for it is worth that; and then for—”
“No,” interrupted Colin, “it is not worth that. I bought it at Vence for Marietta for a hundred livres.”
“You bought it, sir brazen face?” shrieked the Justice, and his whole face became like Marietta’s hat-band. He could not and would not say more, for he dreaded a disagreeable investigation of the matter.
But Colin was vexed at the imputation, and said: “I sent this cup on the evening of the fair, by your own servant, to Marietta. There stands Jaques in the door. Speak, Jaques, did I not give thee the box to carry to Mother Manon?”