who had nothing. Neither was the fair
Natalie indisposed to listen to his addresses ;
but her father could not be expected to
countenance the suit of a gentleman, however
well-born, who had not a ten-sous piece
in the world, and whose prospects were a
blank.

Whilst the ambitious and love-sick young
barrister was thus pining in unwelcome
obscurity, his old acquaintance, Jacques Rollet,
had been acquiring an undesirable notoriety.
There was nothing really bad in Jacques'
disposition, but having been bred up a
democrat, with a hatred of the nobility, he
could not easily accommodate his rough
humour to treat them with civility when it
was no longer safe to insult them. The
liberties he allowed himself whenever
circumstances brought him into contact with the
higher classes of society, had led him into
many scrapes, out of which his father's money
had one way or another released him; but
that source of safety had now failed. Old
Kollet having been too busy with the affairs
of the nation to attend to his business, had
died insolvent, leaving his sou with nothing
but his own wits to help him out of future
difficulties, and it was not long before their
exercise was called for. Claudine Rollet, his
sister, who was a very pretty girl, had
attracted the attention of Mademoiselle de
Bellefonds' brother, Alphonso; and as he paid
her more attention than from such a quarter
was agreeable to Jacques, the young men had
had more than one quarrel on the subject, on
which occasions they had each, characteristically,
given vent to their enmity, the one in
contemptuous monosyllables, and the other in
a volley of insulting words. But Claudine
had another lover more nearly of her own
condition of life; this was Claperon, the
deputy governor of the Eouen jail, with whom
she had made acquaintance during one or two
compulsory visits paid by her brother to that
functionary; but Claudine, who was a bit of
a coquette, though she did not altogether
reject his suit, gave him little encouragement,
so that betwixt hopes, and fears, and doubts,
and jealousies, poor Claperon led a very uneasy
kind of life.

Affairs had been for some time in this position,
when, one fine morning, Alphonse de
Bellefonds was not to be found in his
chamber when his servant went to call him;
neither had his bed been slept in. He had
been observed to go out rather late on the
preceding evening, but whether or not he had
returned, nobody could tell. He had not
appeared at supper, but that was too ordinary
an event to awaken suspicion; and little alarm
was excited till several hours had elapsed,
when inquiries were instituted and a search
commenced, which terminated in the
discovery of his body, a good deal mangled,
lying at the bottom of a pond which had
belonged to the old brewery. Before any
investigations had been made, every person
had jumped to the conclusion that the young
man had been murdered, and that Jacques
Rollet was the assassin. There was a strong
presumption in favour of that opinion, which
further perquisitions tended to confirm. Only
the day before, Jacques had been heard to
threaten Mons. de Bellefonds with speedy
vengeance. On the fatal evening, Alphonse and
Claudine had been seen together in the
neighbourhood of the now dismantled brewery;
and as Jacques, betwixt poverty and democracy,
was in bad odour with the prudent and
respectable part of society, it was not easy for
him to bring witnesses to character, or prove
an unexceptionable alibi. As for the Bellefonds
and De Chaulieus, and the aristocracy in
general, they entertained no doubt of his
guilt; and finally, the magistrates coming
to the same opinion, Jacques Rollet was
committed for trial, and as a testimony of
good will, Antoine de Chaulieu was selected
by the injured family to conduct the
prosecution.

Here, at last, was the opportunity he had
sighed for! So interesting a case, too,
furnishing such ample occasion for passion,
pathos, indignation! And how eminently
fortunate that the speech which he set himself
with ardour to prepare, would be delivered in
the presence of the father and brother of his
mistress, and perhaps of the lady herself!
The evidence against Jacques, it is true, was
altogether presumptive; there was no proof
whatever that he had committed the crime;
and for his own part he stoutly denied
it. But Antoine de Chaulieu entertained
no doubt of his guilt, and his speech was
certainly well calculated to carry that
conviction into the bosom of others. It was of
the highest importance to his own reputation
that he should procure a verdict, and he
confidently assured the afflicted and enraged
family of the victim that their vengeance
should be satisfied. Under these circumstances
could anything be more unwelcome
than a piece of intelligence that was privately
conveyed to him late on the evening before
the trial was to come on, which tended
strongly to exculpate the prisoner, without
indicating any other person as the criminal.
Here was an opportunity lost. The first step
of the ladder on which he was to rise to fame,
fortune, and a wife, was slipping from under
his feet!

Of course, so interesting a trial was anticipated
with great eagerness by the public, and
the court was crowded with all the beauty
and fashion of Rouen. Though Jacques Rollet
persisted in asserting his innocence, founding
his defence chiefly on circumstances which
were strongly corroborated by the information
that had reached De Chaulieu the preceding
evening,–––he was convicted.

In spite of the very strong doubts he
privately entertained respecting the justice of
the verdict, even De Chaulieu himself, in the
first flush of success, amidst a crowd of