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The next day, Monday, was the first sitting of the assizes. The morning dawned dull and gloomy, and Villefort saw the dim gray light shine upon the lines he had traced in red ink. The magistrate had slept for a short time while the lamp sent forth its final struggles; its flickerings awoke him, and he found his fingers as damp and purple as though they had been dipped in blood. He opened the window; a bright yellow streak crossed the sky, and seemed to divide in half the poplars, which stood out in black relief on the horizon. In the clover-fields beyond the chestnut-trees, a lark was mounting up to heaven, while pouring out her clear morning song. The damps of the dew bathed the head of Villefort, and refreshed his memory. "To-day," he said with an effort, --"to-day the man who holds the blade of justice must strike wherever there is guilt." Involuntarily his eyes wandered towards the window of Noirtier's room, where he had seen him the preceding night. The curtain was drawn, and yet. He called Erik ‘master,’ plus he was so deferential. Not just a fawning salesperson. A slave. Somebody else’s sex slave. Wow.”Melissa took a quick peak to double check that Joseph was really a man. He seemed so beautiful and graceful, she hadn’t really been certain. A close inspection of his butt as he walked in front of them, however, convinced her that he really was male.Then she saw Erik noticing how she was staring at Joseph. She quickly fixed her eyes blankly ahead. In her peripheral vision, she caught the beginning of a grin on Erik’s face.Joseph led them into a large dressing room, which had a raised dais in the middle. It reminded Melissa of a wedding shop that she had visited when she was a bridesmaid. This dressing room, however, was decorated in browns and tans, and decorated with horse prints.Once Joseph pulled the door shut behind them, he gracefully sank to his knees, clasped his arms behind his back, and bowed his head. Melissa struggled not to gape at the fluid beauty.
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