beginning of his soup and his talk, as we took our seats beside him.

With the appearance of the _potage_ conversation, like a battle between
foes eager for contest, had immediately engaged itself. The setting of
the table and the air of companionship pervading the establishment were
aiders and abettors to immediate intercourse. Nothing could be prettier
than the Caen bowls with their bunches of purple phlox and spiked
blossoms. Even a metropolitan table might have taken a lesson from the
perfection of the lighting of the long board. In order that her guests
should feel the more entirely at home, our brilliant-eyed hostess came
in with the soup; she took her place behind it at the head of the
table.

It was evident the merchants from Cherbourg who had come as witnesses
to the trial, had had many a conversational bout before now with
madame's ready wit. So had two of the town lawyers. Even the commercial
gentlemen, for once, were experiencing a brief moment of armed
suspense, before they flung themselves into the arena of talk. At
first, or it would never have been in the provinces, this talk at the
long table, everyone broke into speech at once. There was a flood of
words; one's sense of hearing was stunned by the noise. Gradually, as
the cider and the thin red wine were passed, our neighbors gave
digestion a chance; the din became less thick with words; each listened
when the other talked. But, as the volume of speech lessened, the
interest thickened. It finally became concentrated, this interest, into
true French fervor when the question of the trial was touched on.

"They say D'Alencon is very clever. He pleads for Filon, the culprit,
to-night, does he not?"