"You were a judge at forty-nine,
and you defended poor prisoners for twenty years before that."
The Judge was conquered, and he was never the man to pretend he was not
beaten when he was. He admired skill too much for that. He squeezed M.
Fille's arm and said:
"I've been quick with my tongue myself, but I feel sure now, that it's
through long and close association with my Clerk of the Court."
"Ah, monsieur, you are so difficult to understand!" was the reply.
"I have known you all these years, and yet--"
"And yet you did not know how much of the woman there was in me! . . .
But yes, it is that. It is that which I fear with our Zoe. Women break
out--they break out, and then there is the devil to pay. Look at her
mother. She broke out. It was not inevitable. It was the curse of
opportunity, the wrong thing popping up to drive her mad at the wrong
moment. Had the wrong thing come at the right time for her, when she was
quite sane, she would be yonder now with our philosopher.
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