_How a District Attorney Receives an Insult and Monsieur de Moulin Tweaks
the Nose of an American_
I
The court-room was crowded, for it was the first day of the trial of
Pierre Lafitte.
Though the air was soft and balmy, the large chamber itself was hot, and
the discomfort was not lessened by the heterogeneous crowd that filled
the benches, rear aisles, and balcony.
Grymes and Livingston sat together at one end of the long oak table
reserved for counsel. At the foot of the table sat the new district
attorney, Grymes’s successor, one Herbert Hemingway; a short, squat,
overdressed man, clean-shaven, and painfully concise in his speech.
Hemingway was a Pennsylvanian, of some merit as a lawyer, with a large
amount of ambition and a larger meed of vanity. He had been Grymes’s
rival when that gentleman first ran for the office of district attorney,
but was defeated. However, being a henchman of Governor Claiborne and
thus influential to a certain degree, he had become assistant district
attorney, after certain devious maneuverings for which the worthy chief
executive was noted.
Jealous and morose by nature, Hemingway had bided his time. Now, due to
the resignation of Grymes, he had succeeded him in office. Great was
his joy when he discovered that Grymes, himself, was to be his first
opponent in the exercise of his new office, and his cup of happiness was
fairly brimming when he learned the identity of the client of the former
district attorney, despite the fact that with Grymes was allied the
redoubtable Edward Livingston.
Hemingway smiled maliciously as he looked across the table at his former
chief, and the look in his eye boded no good for the Virginian. Of all
this, however, Grymes was happily unconscious. Conversing in low tones
with Livingston, running through his portfolio and occasionally answering
the nod of an acquaintance in the audience with a cordial smile, he
seemed oblivious of the existence of his former assistant.
Suddenly the buzz of conversation subsided, for the judge had entered,
and the crowd made obeisance, all rising and standing until the court was
formally opened and then resuming their seats in an attitude of curious
expectancy.
The trial of the People of the State of Louisiana _versus_ Pierre Lafitte
had begun. Then followed the tedious process of impaneling the jury, but
finally Herbert Hemingway, the new prosecuting attorney, rose to his feet
and, ostentatiously clearing his throat, began the opening address.
And thus the first day.