Then, messieurs, you might seek to test
the accuracy of what statements I may make; but to proceed as you
are proceeding is not to judge but to murder. Justice is represented
as a virtuous woman with bandaged eyes, holding impartial scales;
in your hands, gentlemen, by my soul, she is become a very harlot
clutching a veil."
Chatellerault's cynical smile grew broader as my speech proceeded
and stirred up the rancour in the hearts of those august gentlemen.
The Keeper of the Seals went white and red by turns, and when I
paused there was an impressive silence that lasted for some moments.
At last the President leant over to confer in a whisper with
Chatellerault. Then, in a voice forcedly calm - like the calm of
Nature when thunder is brewing - he asked me, "Who do you insist
that you are, monsieur?"
"Once already have I told you, and I venture to think that mine is
a name not easily forgotten. I am the Sieur Marcel de Saint-Pol,
Marquis of Bardelys, of Bardelys in Picardy."
A cunning grin parted his thin lips.
"Have you any witnesses to identify you?"
"Hundreds, monsieur!" I answered eagerly, seeing salvation already
within my grasp.
"Name some of them."
"I will name one - one whose word you will not dare to doubt."
"That is?"
"His Majesty the King. I am told that he is on his way to Toulouse,
and I but ask, messieurs, that you await his arrival before going
further with my trial."
"Is there no other witness of whom you can think, monsieur? Some
witness that might be produced more readily.
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