46 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF FRANCIS ARAGO. 
An émigré officer of the Bourbon regiment offered at 
once to make the experiment, and, after some phrases in- 
terchanged between us, affirmed without hesitation that I 
was French. 
The judge, rendered impatient, exclaimed, “Let us 
put an end to these trials which decide nothing. I sum- 
mon you, sir, to tell me who you are. I promise that 
your life will be safe if you answer me with sincerity. 
“ My greatest wish would be to give an answer to your 
satisfaction. I will, then, try to do so; but I warn you 
that I am not going to tell you the truth. I am son of 
the innkeeper at Mataro.” “I know that innkeeper ; 
you are not his son.” “ You are right. I announced to 
you that I should vary my answers until one of them 
should suit you. I retract then, and tell you that Iam a 
titiretero, (player of marionettes,) and that I practised at 
Lerida.” 
A loud shout of laughter from the multitude encircling 
us greeted this answer, and put an end to the questions. 
“TI swear by the d 1,” exclaimed the judge, “that I 
will discover sooner or later who you are!” 
And he retired. 
The Arabs, the Moroccans, the Jews, who witnessed 
this interrogatory, understood nothing of it; they had 
only seen that I had not allowed myself to be intimidated. 
At the close of the interview they came to kiss my-hand, 
and gave me, from this moment, their entire confidence. 
I became their secretary for all the individual or col- 
lective remonstrances which they thought they had a 
right to address to the Spanish Government; and this 
right was incontestable. Every day I was occupied in 
drawing up petitions, especially in the name of the two 
ostrich-feather merchants, one of whom called himself a 
