MADAME VAGRET. That's true. Why did you make your indictment so pa.s.sionately?

VAGRET. Ah, why, why? Long before the hearing of the case it was so clearly understood by everybody that the prisoner was the criminal! And then it all went to my head, it intoxicated me--the way they talked. I was the spokesman of humanity, I was to rea.s.sure the countryside, I was to restore tranquillity to the family, and I don't know what else! So then--I felt I must show myself equal to the part intrusted to me. My first indictment was relatively moderate--but when I saw the celebrated counsel making the jurymen weep, I thought I was lost; I felt the verdict would escape me. Contrary to my habit, I replied. When I rose to my feet for the second time I was like a man fighting, who has just had a vision of defeat, and who therefore fights with the strength of despair. From that moment Etchepare, so to speak, no longer existed. I was no longer concerned to defend society or sustain my accusation; I was contending against the advocate; it was a trial of orators, a compet.i.tion of actors; I had to be the victor at all costs. I had to convince the jury, resume my hold on it, wring from it the double "yes"

of the verdict. I tell you, Etchepare no longer counted; it was I who counted, my vanity, my reputation, my honor, my future. It's shameful, I tell you, shameful. At any cost I wanted to prevent the acquittal which I felt was certain. And I was so afraid of not succeeding that I employed every argument, good and bad, even that of representing to the terrified jurymen their own houses in flames, their own flesh and blood murdered. I spoke of the vengeance of G.o.d falling on judges without severity. And all this in good faith--or rather unconsciously, in a burst of pa.s.sion, in an access of anger against the advocate, whom I hated at that moment with all my might. My success was greater than I hoped; the jury is ready to obey me; and I, my dear, I have allowed myself to be congratulated, I have grasped the hands held out to me.

That is what it is to be a magistrate!

MADAME VAGRET. Never mind. Perhaps there aren't ten in all France who would have acted otherwise.

VAGRET. You are right. Only--if one reflects--it's precisely that that's so dreadful.

RECORDER [_entering_] Monsieur le Procureur, the President is asking when the sitting can be resumed.

VAGRET. At once.

MADAME VAGRET. What are you going to do?

VAGRET. My duty as an honest man. [_He makes ready to go_]

CURTAIN.

ACT IV

SCENES--_Same as the Second Act._

SCENE I:-_Bunerat, the President of a.s.sizes, and Vagret._

BUNERAT. Well, your honor, there's another session finished.

THE PRESIDENT [_in red robe_] I've been in a blue funk lest these brutes would make me lose my train. I'm going shooting to-morrow on the Cambo Ponds, you see, my dear fellow, and after to-night's train it's no go.

[_Looks at his watch_] Oh, I've an hour and a half yet.

BUNERAT. And what do you think of it, your honor?

THE PRESIDENT. Of what? Of the acquittal? What does it matter to me? I don't care--on the contrary, I prefer it. I am certain the advocate won't ferret out some unintentional defect--some formality gone wrong.

Where's my hat-box?

_He is about to stand on a chair to reach the hat-box, which is on the top of a cupboard. Bunerat precedes him._

BUNERAT. Permit me, Monsieur. You are at home here. [_From the chair_] I believe I shall have the pleasure of seeing you here again next session.

[_He sighs, holding out the hat-box_]

THE PRESIDENT. A pleasure I shall share, my dear fellow. [_He takes out a small felt hat from the box_]

BUNERAT. Would you like a brush? There's Mouzon's brush. [_A sigh_] Ah, good G.o.d, when shall I leave Mauleon? I should so like to live at Pau!

THE PRESIDENT. Pooh! A much overrated city! Come, come!

BUNERAT. I suppose my new duties won't take me there yet?

THE PRESIDENT. Don't you worry yourself. In the winter, yes, it's very well--but the summer--ah, the summer.

BUNERAT. I am not the one appointed?

THE PRESIDENT. Ah! You know already?

BUNERAT. Yes--I--yes--that is to say, I didn't know it was official.

THE PRESIDENT [_brushing his hat and catching sight of a dent_] Dented already. In these days the hats they sell you for felt, my dear chap, they're paste-board, simply--

BUNERAT. True. Yes, I didn't know it was official. Monsieur Mouzon is very lucky.

_Enter Vagret in mufti._

THE PRESIDENT. There, there is our dear Monsieur Vagret. Changed your dress already. Yes, you're at home, you. For my part I must pack up all this. Where the devil is the box I put my gown in? [_Bunerat makes a step to fetch it and then remains motionless_] It's curious--that--what have they done with it? In that cupboard--you haven't seen it, my dear Monsieur Bunerat?

BUNERAT. No.

THE PRESIDENT. Ah, here it is--and my jacket in it. [_He opens the box and takes out his jacket, which he lays aside on the table_] Well, well, you've got them acquitted, my dear sir! Are you satisfied?

VAGRET. I am very glad.

THE PRESIDENT. And if they are the murderers?

VAGRET. I must console myself with Berryer's remark: "It is better to leave ten guilty men at liberty than to punish one innocent man."

THE PRESIDENT. You have a sensitive nature.

VAGRET. Ought one to have a heart of stone, then, to be a magistrate?

THE PRESIDENT [_tying up the box in which he has put his judge's bonnet_] One must keep oneself above the little miseries of humanity.

VAGRET. Above the miseries of others.

THE PRESIDENT. Hang it all--

VAGRET. That is what we call egoism.

THE PRESIDENT. Do you say that for my benefit?

VAGRET. For all three of us.

BUNERAT. Au revoir, gentlemen. Au revoir. [_He shakes hands with each and goes out_]

THE PRESIDENT [_taking off his gown_] My dear Monsieur, I beg you to be more moderate in your remarks.