Yes, I am worthy to be his judge.

Heaven, who reads all my thoughts, sees that I love Claire enough to desire with all my heart the innocence of her lover." Only then did M.Daburon seem to be vaguely aware of the lapse of time.
It was nearly three o'clock in the morning.
"Goodness!" cried he; "why, old Tabaret is waiting for me.

I shall probably find him asleep." But M.Tabaret was not asleep.

He had noticed the passage of time no more than the magistrate.
Ten minutes had sufficed him to take an inventory of the contents of M.
Daburon's study, which was large, and handsomely furnished in accordance with his position and fortune.

Taking up a lamp, he first admired six very valuable pictures, which ornamented the walls; he then examined with considerable curiosity some rare bronzes placed about the room, and bestowed on the bookcase the glance of a connoisseur.
After which, taking an evening paper from the table, he approached the hearth, and seated himself in a vast armchair.
He had not read a third of the leading article, which, like all leading articles of the time, was exclusively occupied with the Roman question, when, letting the paper drop from his hands, he became absorbed in meditation.