you: "It is the affair of the defense, not mine!" Listen and see to just what point the exercise of the profession of prosecutor renders us unjust and cruel; I had, myself—I had a thrill of joy at first, when I saw that the judge, in his questioning, left in the shadow the sum of those little facts. There, that is the trade! you understand, the trade! Ah! poor creatures that we are, poor creatures!
Mme. Vagret:—Possibly the jury may not condemn him?
Vagret:—It will condemn him.
Mme. Vagret:—Or that it will admit some extenuating circumstances.
Vagret:—No. I urged them too emphatically against this. Was I not ardent enough, my God! violent enough?
Mme. Vagret:—That's true. Why should you have developed your argument with so much passion?
Vagret:—Ah! why! why! Long before the session, it was so well understood by everyone that the accused was the culprit! And then, everyone was trying to rouse my dander, trying to make me drunk! I was the spokesman for humanity, I had to reassure the country, bring peace to the family—I don't know what all else! My first demands were comparatively moderate. But when I saw that famous advocate make the jury weep, I thought I was lost; I felt that the case was getting away from me. Contrary to my custom, I made a reply. When I stood up again, I was like a combattant who goes to meet defeat, and who fights with desperation. From that moment, Etchepare no longer existed, so to speak. I no longer had the care to defend society, or to maintain the accusation—I was fighting against that advocate; it was a tourney of orators, a contest of actors; I had to come out the conqueror at all hazards. I had to
