"Very well; if you pay, there's nothing more to be said. You may go, you fellows, the young man will pay."
The archers went out and Jacques Aubry took from his wallet twenty Paris sous, which he spread out in a line on the judge's desk.
"See if that is right," said the lieutenant criminal.
The clerk rose, and to execute the order bent his back like a how, embracing in the half-circle described by his body, which seemed to possess the power of lengthening itself out indefinitely, his table and the papers which lay upon it. As he stood with his feet on the floor and his hands on the judge's desk, he reminded one of a sombre-hued rainbow.
"It is right," he said.
"Then off with you, my young rascal," said the magistrate, "and give place to others; the court has no more time to waste on you. Go."
Jacques saw that he had nothing to gain by remaining there, and withdrew in despair.
XIII
IN WHICH JACQUES AUBRY RISES TO EPIC
PROPORTIONS
"Well, upon my word," said the student to himself as he left the Palais de Justice, and mechanically crossed the Pont aux Moulins, which brought him out almost opposite the Châtelet; "upon my word, I am curious to know what Gervaise will say when she learns that her honor is valued at twenty Paris sous! She will say that I have been indiscreet, and told things I shouldn't have told, and she'll tear my eyes out. But what do I see yonder?"