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Be this time Zola has come back; an' he jumps up, an', says he, 'Jackuse, he says. An' they thrun him out. "'Befure we go anny farther, says th' lawyer f'r th' difinse, 'I wish to sarve notice that, whin this thrile is over, I intind, he says, 'to wait outside, he says, 'an' hammer th' hon'rable coort into an omelet, he says. 'With these few remarks I will close, he says.
'Let us pro-ceed, says th' impartial an' fair-minded judge, 'to th' thrile iv th' haynious monsther Cap Dhry-fuss, he says. Up jumps Zola, an' says he in Frinch: 'Jackuse, he says, which is a hell of a mane thing to say to anny man. An' they thrun him out. 'Judge, says th' attorney f'r th' difinse, 'an' gintlemen iv th' jury, he says. 'Ye're a liar, says th' judge.
'None iv ye'er business, says Pat. 'Answered like a man an' a sojer, says th' coort. 'Jackuse, says Zola fr'm th' dureway. An' they thrun him out. 'Call Col. Hinnery, says th' coort. 'He ray-fuses to answer. 'Good. Th' case is clear. Cap forged th' will.
Th' coort will now adjourn f'r dools, an' all ladin' officers iv th' ar-rmy not in disgrace already will assimble in jail, an' com-mit suicide, he says. 'Jackuse, says Zola, an' started f'r th' woods, pursued be his fellow-editors. He's off somewhere in a three now hollerin' 'Jackuse' at ivry wan that passes, sufferin' martyrdom f'r his counthry an' writin' now an' thin about it all.
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