Each man gave his name, his age, his abode, and his profession, and received an order to return to his place.
Six or seven prisoners were actually granted time to say that they were absolutely ignorant of the conspiracy, and that they had been arrested while conversing quietly upon the public highway.

They begged to be allowed to furnish proof of the truth of their assertions; they invoked the testimony of the soldiers who had arrested them.
M.d'Escorval, whose case had been separated from the others, was not summoned to the desk.

He would be interrogated last.
"Now the counsel for the defence will be heard," said the duke; "but make haste; lose no time! It is already twelve o'clock." Then began a shameful, revolting, and unheard-of scene.

The duke interrupted the lawyers every other moment, bidding them be silent, questioning them, or jeering at them.
"It seems incredible," said he, "that anyone can think of defending such wretches!" Or again: "Silence! You should blush with shame for having constituted yourself the defender of such rascals!" But the lawyers persevered even while they realized the utter uselessness of their efforts.

But what could they do under such circumstances?
The defence of these twenty-nine prisoners lasted only one hour and a half.
Before the last word was fairly uttered, the Duc de Sairmeuse gave a sigh of relief, and in a tone which betrayed his delight, said: "Prisoner Escorval, stand up." Thus called upon, the baron rose, calm and dignified.