"I come before you," Andre-Louis began, "as a deputy-suppleant
to fill the place of one who was murdered some three weeks ago."
It was a challenging opening that instantly provoked an indignant
outcry from the Blacks. Andre-Louis paused, and looked at them,
smiling a little, a singularly self-confident young man.
"The gentlemen of the Right, M. le President, do not appear to like
my words. But that is not surprising. The gentlemen of the Right
notoriously do not like the truth."
This time there was uproar. The members of the Left roared with
laughter, those of the Right thundered menacingly. The ushers
circulated at a pace beyond their usual, agitated themselves,
clapped their hands, and called in vain for silence.
The President rang his bell.
Above the general din came the voice of La Tour d'Azyr, who had
half-risen from his seat: "Mountebank! This is not the theatre!"
"No, monsieur, it is becoming a hunting-ground for bully-swordsmen,"
was the answer, and the uproar grew.
The deputy-suppleant looked round and waited.
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