“Yes, my dear sir,” repeated La Cibot.  “Yes, my M. Pons is own cousin to President Camusot de Marville; he tells me that ten times a day.  M. Camusot the silk mercer was married twice—­”

“He that has just been nominated for a peer of France?—­”

“And his first wife was a Mlle. Pons, M. Pons’ first cousin.”

“Then they are first cousins once removed—­”

“They are ‘not cousins.’  They have quarreled.”

It may be remembered that before M. Camusot de Marville came to Paris, he was President of the Tribunal of Mantes for five years; and not only was his name still remembered there, but he had kept up a correspondence with Mantes.  Camusot’s immediate successor, the judge with whom he had been most intimate during his term of office, was still President of the Tribunal, and consequently knew all about Fraisier.

“Do you know, madame,” Fraisier said, when at last the red sluices of La Cibot’s torrent tongue were closed, “do you know that your principal enemy will be a man who can send you to the scaffold?”

The portress started on her chair, making a sudden spring like a jack-in-the-box.

“Calm yourself, dear madame,” continued Fraisier.  “You may not have known the name of the President of the Chamber of Indictments at the Court of Appeal in Paris; but you ought to have known that M. Pons must have an heir-at-law.  M. le President de Marville is your invalid’s sole heir; but as he is a collateral in the third degree, M. Pons is entitled by law to leave his fortune as he pleases.  You are not aware either that, six weeks ago at least, M. le President’s daughter married the eldest son of M. le Comte Popinot, peer of France, once Minister of Agriculture, and President of the Board of Trade, one of the most influential politicians of the day.  President de Marville is even more formidable through this marriage than in his own quality of head of the Court of Assize.”

At that word La Cibot shuddered.

“Yes, and it is he who sends you there,” continued Fraisier.  “Ah! my dear madame, you little know what a red robe means!  It is bad enough to have a plain black gown against you!  You see me here, ruined, bald, broken in health—­all because, unwittingly, I crossed a mere attorney for the crown in the provinces.  I was forced to sell my connection at a loss, and very lucky I was to come off with the loss of my money.  If I had tried to stand out, my professional position would have gone as well.

“One thing more you do not know,” he continued, “and this it is.  If you had only to do with President Camusot himself, it would be nothing; but he has a wife, mind you!—­and if you ever find yourself face to face with that wife, you will shake in your shoes as if you were on the first step of the scaffold, your hair will stand on end.  The Presidente is so vindictive that she would spend ten years over setting a trap to kill you.  She sets that husband of hers spinning like a top.  Through her a charming young fellow committed suicide at the Conciergerie.  A count was accused of forgery—­she made his character as white as snow.  She all but drove a person of the highest quality from the Court of Charles X. Finally, she displaced the Attorney-General, M. de Granville—­”