At a ceremonial dinner given in honor of I know not whose wedding, at
the beginning of September 1834, when the women were standing in a
circle round the drawing-room fire, and the men in groups by the
windows, every one exclaimed with pleasure at the entrance of Monsieur
l'Abbe de Grancey, who was announced.
"Well, and the lawsuit?" they all cried.
"Won!" replied the Vicar-General. "The verdict of the Court, from
which we had no hope, you know why----"
This was an allusion to the members of the First Court of Appeal of
1830; the Legitimists had almost all withdrawn.
"The verdict is in our favor on every point, and reverses the decision
of the Lower Court."
"Everybody thought you were done for."
"And we should have been, but for me. I told our advocate to be off to
Paris, and at the crucial moment I was able to secure a new pleader,
to whom we owe our victory, a wonderful man--"
"At Besancon?" said Monsieur de Watteville, guilelessly.
"At Besancon," replied the Abbe de Grancey.
"Oh yes, Savaron," said a handsome young man sitting near the
Baroness, and named de Soulas.
"He spent five or six nights over it; he devoured documents and
briefs; he had seven or eight interviews of several hours with me,"
continued Monsieur de Grancey, who had just reappeared at the Hotel de
Rupt for the first time in three weeks. "In short, Monsieur Savaron
has just completely beaten the celebrated lawyer whom our adversaries
had sent for from Paris.
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