.

THE JUDGEMENT.
The worthy burgomaster of Mockern wore a cloth cap, and was enveloped in a cloak.

He sat down heavily on the bench.

He was a corpulent man, about sixty, with an arrogant, morose countenance; and he frequently rubbed with his red, fat fist, eyes that were still swollen and blood shot, from his having been suddenly roused from sleep.
Dagobert stood bareheaded before him, with a submissive, respectful air, holding his old foraging cap in his hands, and trying to read in the sullen physiognomy of his judge what chance there might be to interest him in his favor--that is, in favor of the orphans.
In this critical juncture, the poor soldier summoned to his aid all his presence of mind, reason, eloquence and resolution.

He, who had twenty times braved death with the utmost coolness--who, calm and serene, because sincere and tried, had never quailed before the eagle-glance of the Emperor, his hero and idol--now felt himself disconcerted and trembling before the ill-humored face of a village burgomaster.