answers envelop terrible, hidden meanings. The smallest gesture,
the most rapid movement of physiognomy may acquire deep significance,
a fugitive light in the eye betray an advantage gained; an
imperceptible change in the voice may be confession.

The coolness of M. Domini was disheartening.

"Let us see," said he after a pause: "where did you pass the night?
How did you get this money? And what does this address mean?"

"Eh!" cried Guespin, with the rage of powerlessness, "I should tell
you what you would not believe."

The judge was about to ask another question, but Guespin cut him
short.

"No; you wouldn't believe me," he repeated, his eyes glistening with
anger. "Do men like you believe men like me? I have a past, you
know, of antecedents, as you would say. The past! They throw that
in my face, as if, the future depended on the past. Well, yes; it's
true, I'm a debauchee, a gambler, a drunkard, an idler, but what of
it? It's true I have been before the police court, and condemned
for night poaching--what does that prove? I have wasted my life,
but whom have I wronged if not myself? My past! Have I not
sufficiently expiated it?"

Guespin was self-possessed, and finding in himself sensations which
awoke a sort of eloquence, he expressed himself with a savage energy
well calculated to strike his hearers.