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diff --git a/old/3336-h.htm.2017-11-26 b/old/3336-h.htm.2017-11-26 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..854690f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3336-h.htm.2017-11-26 @@ -0,0 +1,27769 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Within an Inch of his Life, by Emile Gaboriau + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Within an Inch of His Life, by Emile Gaboriau + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Within an Inch of His Life + +Author: Emile Gaboriau + +Release Date: April 6, 2006 [EBook #3336] +Last Updated: September 24, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Emile Gaboriau + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PREPARER’S NOTE + + This text was prepared from a 1913 edition, + published by Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> FIRST PART—FIRE AT VALPINSON </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> SECOND PART—THE BOISCORAN TRIAL </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THIRD PART—COCOLEU </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + FIRST PART—FIRE AT VALPINSON + </h2> + <p> + These were the facts:— + </p> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + In the night from the 22nd to the 23rd of June, 1871, towards one o’clock + in the morning, the Paris suburb of Sauveterre, the principal and most + densely populated suburb of that pretty town, was startled by the furious + gallop of a horse on its ill-paved streets. + </p> + <p> + A number of peaceful citizens rushed to the windows. + </p> + <p> + The dark night allowed these only to see a peasant in his shirt sleeves, + and bareheaded, who belabored a large gray mare, on which he rode + bareback, with his heels and a huge stick. + </p> + <p> + This man, after having passed the suburbs, turned into National Street, + formerly Imperial Street, crossed New-Market Square, and stopped at last + before the fine house which stands at the corner of Castle Street. + </p> + <p> + This was the house of the mayor of Sauveterre, M. Seneschal, a former + lawyer, and now a member of the general council. + </p> + <p> + Having alighted, the peasant seized the bell-knob, and began to ring so + furiously, that, in a few moments, the whole house was in an uproar. + </p> + <p> + A minute later, a big, stout servant-man, his eyes heavy with sleep, came + and opened the door, and then cried out in an angry voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, my man? What do you want? Have you taken too much wine? + Don’t you know at whose house you are making such a row?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see the mayor,” replied the peasant instantly. “Wake him up!” + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal was wide awake. + </p> + <p> + Dressed in a large dressing-gown of gray flannel, a candlestick in his + hand, troubled, and unable to disguise his trouble, he had just come down + into the hall, and heard all that was said. + </p> + <p> + “Here is the mayor,” he said in an ill-satisfied tone. “What do you want + of him at this hour, when all honest people are in bed?” + </p> + <p> + Pushing the servant aside, the peasant came up to him, and said, making + not the slightest attempt at politeness,— + </p> + <p> + “I come to tell you to send the fire-engine.” + </p> + <p> + “The engine!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; at once. Make haste!” + </p> + <p> + The mayor shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Hm!” he said, according to a habit he had when he was at a loss what to + do; “hm, hm!” + </p> + <p> + And who would not have been embarrassed in his place? + </p> + <p> + To get the engine out, and to assemble the firemen, he had to rouse the + whole town; and to do this in the middle of the night was nothing less + than to frighten the poor people of Sauveterre, who had heard the drums + beating the alarm but too often during the war with the Germans, and then + again during the reign of the Commune. Therefore M. Seneschal asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Is it a serious fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Serious!” exclaimed the peasant. “How could it be otherwise with such a + wind as this,—a wind that would blow off the horns of our oxen.” + </p> + <p> + “Hm!” uttered the mayor again. “Hm, hm!” + </p> + <p> + It was not exactly the first time, since he was mayor of Sauveterre, that + he was thus roused by a peasant, who came and cried under his window, + “Help! Fire, fire!” + </p> + <p> + At first, filled with compassion, he had hastily called out the firemen, + put himself at their head, and hurried to the fire. + </p> + <p> + And when they reached it, out of breath, and perspiring, after having made + two or three miles at double-quick, they found what? A wretched heap of + straw, worth about ten dollars, and almost consumed by the fire. They had + had their trouble for nothing. + </p> + <p> + The peasants in the neighborhood had cried, “Wolf!” so often, when there + was no reason for it, that, even when the wolf really was there, the + townspeople were slow in believing it. + </p> + <p> + “Let us see,” said M. Seneschal: “what is burning?” + </p> + <p> + The peasant seemed to be furious at all these delays, and bit his long + whip. + </p> + <p> + “Must I tell you again and again,” he said, “that every thing is on fire,—barns, + outhouses, haystacks, the houses, the old castle, and every thing? If you + wait much longer, you won’t find one stone upon another in Valpinson.” + </p> + <p> + The effect produced by this name was prodigious. + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked the mayor in a half-stifled voice, “Valpinson is on fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “At Count Claudieuse’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Fool! Why did you not say so at once?” exclaimed the mayor. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” he said to his servant, “go and get me my clothes. Wait, no! my + wife can help me. There is no time to be lost. You run to Bolton, the + drummer, you know, and tell him from me to beat the alarm instantly all + over town. Then you run to Capt. Parenteau’s, and explain to him what you + have heard. Ask him to get the keys of the engine-house.—Wait!—when + you have done that, come back and put the horse in.—Fire at + Valpinson! I shall go with the engine. Go, run, knock at every door, cry, + ‘Fire! Fire!’ Tell everybody to come to the New-Market Square.” + </p> + <p> + When the servant had run off as fast as he could, the mayor turned to the + peasant, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “And you, my good man, you get on your horse, and reassure the count. Tell + them all to take courage, not to give up; we are coming to help them.” + </p> + <p> + But the peasant did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Before going back to Valpinson,” he said, “I have another commission to + attend to in town.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I am to get the doctor to go back with me.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor! Why? Has anybody been hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, master, Count Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + “How imprudent! I suppose he rushed into danger as usually.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! He has been shot twice!” + </p> + <p> + The mayor of Sauveterre nearly dropped his candlestick. + </p> + <p> + “Shot! Twice!” he said. “Where? When? By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I don’t know.” + </p> + <p> + “But”— + </p> + <p> + “All I can tell you is this. They have carried him into a little barn that + was not on fire yet. There I saw him myself lying on the straw, pale like + a linen sheet, his eyes closed, and bloody all over.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God! They have not killed him?” + </p> + <p> + “He was not dead when I left.” + </p> + <p> + “And the countess?” + </p> + <p> + “Our lady,” replied the peasant with an accent of profound veneration, + “was in the barn on her knees by the count’s side, washing his wounds with + fresh water. The two little ladies were there too.” + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal trembled with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “It is a crime that has been committed, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course!” + </p> + <p> + “But who did it? What was the motive?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is the question.” + </p> + <p> + “The count is very passionate, to be sure, quite violent, in fact; but + still he is the best and fairest of men, everybody knows that.” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody knows it.” + </p> + <p> + “He never did any harm to anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what all say.” + </p> + <p> + “As for the countess”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said the peasant eagerly, “she is the saint of saints.” + </p> + <p> + The mayor tried to come to some conclusion. + </p> + <p> + “The criminal, therefore, must be a stranger. We are overrun with + vagabonds and beggars on the tramp. There is not a day on which a lot of + ill-looking fellows do not appear at my office, asking for help to get + away.” + </p> + <p> + The peasant nodded his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “That is what I think. And the proof of it is, that, as I came along, I + made up my mind I would first get the doctor, and then report the crime at + the police office.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said the mayor. “I will do that myself. In ten minutes I + shall see the attorney of the Commonwealth. Now go. Don’t spare your + horse, and tell your mistress that we are all coming after you.” + </p> + <p> + In his whole official career M. Seneschal had never been so terribly + shocked. He lost his head, just as he did on that unlucky day, when, all + of a sudden, nine hundred militia-men fell upon him, and asked to be fed + and lodged. Without his wife’s help he would never have been able to dress + himself. Still he was ready when his servant returned. + </p> + <p> + The good fellow had done all he had been told to do, and at that moment + the beat of the drum was heard in the upper part of the town. + </p> + <p> + “Now, put the horse in,” said M. Seneschal: “let me find the carriage at + the door when I come back.” + </p> + <p> + In the streets he found all in an uproar. At every window a head popped + out, full of curiosity or terror; on all sides house doors were opened, + and promptly closed again. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” he thought, “I hope I shall find Daubigeon at home!” M. + Daubigeon, who had been first in the service of the empire, and then in + the service of the republic, was one of M. Seneschal’s best friends. He + was a man of about forty years, with a cunning look in his eye, a + permanent smile on his face, and a confirmed bachelor, with no small pride + in his consistency. The good people of Sauveterre thought he did not look + stern and solemn enough for his profession. To be sure he was very highly + esteemed; but his optimism was not popular; they reproached him for being + too kind-hearted, too reluctant to press criminals whom he had to + prosecute, and thus prone to encourage evil-doers. + </p> + <p> + He accused himself of not being inspired with the “holy fire,” and, as he + expressed it in his own way, “of robbing Themis of all the time he could, + to devote it to the friendly Muses.” He was a passionate lover of fine + books, rare editions, costly bindings, and fine illustrations; and much + the larger part of his annual income of about ten thousand francs went to + buying books. A scholar of the old-fashioned type, he professed boundless + admiration for Virgil and Juvenal, but, above all, for Horace, and proved + his devotion by constant quotations. + </p> + <p> + Roused, like everybody else in the midst of his slumbers, this excellent + man hastened to put on his clothes, when his old housekeeper came in, + quite excited, and told him that M. Seneschal was there, and wanted to see + him. + </p> + <p> + “Show him in!” he said, “show him in!” + </p> + <p> + And, as soon as the mayor entered, he continued:— + </p> + <p> + “For you will be able to tell me the meaning of all this noise, this + beating of drums,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Clamorque, virum, clangorque tubarum.’” + </p> + <p> + “A terrible misfortune has happened,” answered the mayor. From the tone of + his voice one might have imagined it was he himself who had been + afflicted; and the lawyer was so strongly impressed in this way, that he + said,— + </p> + <p> + “My dear friend, what is the matter? <i>Quid?</i> Courage, my friend, keep + cool! Remember that the poet advises us, in misfortune never to lose our + balance of mind:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘AEquam, memento, rebus in arduis, + Sevare mentem.’” + </pre> + <p> + “Incendiaries have set Valpinson on fire!” broke in the mayor. + </p> + <p> + “You do not say so? Great God! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Jupiter, + Quod verbum audio.’” + </pre> + <p> + “More than that. Count Claudieuse has been shot, and by this time he is + probably dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “You hear the drummer is beating the alarm. I am going to the fire; and I + have only come here to report the matter officially to you, and to ask you + to see to it that justice be done promptly and energetically.” + </p> + <p> + There was no need of such a serious appeal to stop at once all the + lawyer’s quotations. + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” he said eagerly. “Come, let us take measures to catch the + wretches.” + </p> + <p> + When they reached National Street, it was as full as at mid-day; for + Sauveterre is one of those rare provincial towns in which an excitement is + too rare a treat to be neglected. The sad event had by this time become + fully known everywhere. At first the news had been doubted; but when the + doctor’s cab had passed the crowd at full speed, escorted by a peasant on + horseback, the reports were believed. Nor had the firemen lost time. As + soon as the mayor and M. Daubigeon appeared on New-Market Square, Capt. + Parenteau rushed up to them, and, touching his helmet with a military + salute, said,— + </p> + <p> + “My men are ready.” + </p> + <p> + “All?” + </p> + <p> + “There are hardly ten absentees. When they heard that Count and Countess + Claudieuse were in need—great heavens!—you know, they all were + ready in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, start and make haste,” commanded M. Seneschal. “We shall + overtake you on the way: M. Daubigeon and I are going to pick up M. + Galpin, the magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + They had not far to go. + </p> + <p> + The magistrate had already been looking for them all over town: he was + just appearing on the Square, and saw them at once. + </p> + <p> + In striking contrast with the commonwealth attorney, M. Galpin was a + professional man in the full sense of the word, and perhaps a little more. + He was the magistrate all over, from head to foot, and from the gaiters on + his ankles to the light blonde whiskers on his face. Although he was quite + young, yet no one had ever seen him smile, or heard him make a joke. He + was so very stiff that M. Daubigeon suggested he had been impaled alive on + the sword of justice. + </p> + <p> + At Sauveterre M. Galpin was looked upon as a superior man. He certainly + believed it himself: hence he was very impatient at being confined to so + narrow a sphere of action, and thought his brilliant ability wasted upon + the prosecution of a chicken-thief or a poacher. But his almost desperate + efforts to secure a better office had always been unsuccessful. In vain he + had enlisted a host of friends in his behalf. In vain he had thrown + himself into politics, ready to serve any party that would serve him. + </p> + <p> + But M. Galpin’s ambition was not easily discouraged, and lately after a + journey to Paris, he had thrown out hints at a great match, which would + shortly procure him that influence in high places which so far he had been + unable to obtain. When he joined M. Daubigeon and the mayor, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, this is a horrible affair! It will make a tremendous noise.” The + mayor began to give him the details, but he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Don’t trouble yourself. I know all you know. I met the peasant who had + been sent in, and I have examined him.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to the commonwealth attorney, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “I think we ought to proceed at once to the place where the crime has been + committed.” + </p> + <p> + “I was going to suggest it to you,” replied M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + “The gendarmes ought to be notified.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Seneschal has just sent them word.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate was so much excited, that his cold impassiveness actually + threatened to give way for once. + </p> + <p> + “There has been an attempt at murder.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidently.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we can act in concert, and side by side, each one in his own line of + duty, you examining, and I preparing for the trial.” + </p> + <p> + An ironical smile passed over the lips of the commonwealth attorney. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to know me well enough,” he said, “to be sure that I have never + interfered with your duties and privileges. I am nothing but a good old + fellow, a friend of peace and of studies. + </p> + <p> + “‘Sum piger et senior, Pieridumque comes.’” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” exclaimed M. Seneschal, “nothing keeps us here any longer. I am + impatient to be off; my carriage is ready; let us go!” + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + In a straight line it is only a mile from Sauveterre to Valpinson; but + that mile is as long as two elsewhere. M. Seneschal, however, had a good + horse, “the best perhaps in the county,” he said, as he got into his + carriage. In ten minutes they had overtaken the firemen, who had left some + time before them. And yet these good people, all of them master workmen of + Sauveterre, masons, carpenters, and tilers, hurried along as fast as they + could. They had half a dozen smoking torches with them to light them on + the way: they walked, puffing and groaning, on the bad road, and pulling + the two engines, together with the heavy cart on which they had piled up + their ladders and other tools. + </p> + <p> + “Keep up, my friends!” said the mayor as he passed them,—“keep up!” + Three minutes farther on, a peasant on horseback appeared in the dark, + riding along like a forlorn knight in a romance. M. Daubigeon ordered him + to halt. He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “You come from Valpinson?” asked M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the peasant. + </p> + <p> + “How is the count?” + </p> + <p> + “He has come to at last.” + </p> + <p> + “What does the doctor say?” + </p> + <p> + “He says he will live. I am going to the druggist to get some medicines.” + M. Galpin, to hear better, was leaning out of the carriage. He asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Do they accuse any one?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And the fire?” + </p> + <p> + “They have water enough,” replied the peasant, “but no engines: so what + can they do? And the wind is rising again! Oh, what a misfortune!” + </p> + <p> + He rode off as fast as he could, while M. Seneschal was whipping his poor + horse, which, unaccustomed as it was to such treatment, instead of going + any faster, only reared, and jumped from side to side. The excellent man + was in despair. He looked upon this crime as if it had been committed on + purpose to disgrace him, and to do the greatest possible injury to his + administration. + </p> + <p> + “For after all,” he said, for the tenth time to his companions, “is it + natural, I ask you, is it sensible, that a man should think of attacking + the Count and the Countess Claudieuse, the most distinguished and the most + esteemed people in the whole county, and especially a lady whose name is + synonymous with virtue and charity?” + </p> + <p> + And, without minding the ruts and the stones in the road, M. Seneschal + went on repeating all he knew about the owners of Valpinson. + </p> + <p> + Count Trivulce Claudieuse was the last scion of one of the oldest families + of the county. At sixteen, about 1829, he had entered the navy as an + ensign, and for many years he had appeared at Sauveterre only rarely, and + at long intervals. In 1859 he had become a captain, and was on the point + of being made admiral, when he had all of a sudden sent in his + resignation, and taken up his residence at the Castle of Valpinson, + although the house had nothing to show of its former splendor but two + towers falling to pieces, and an immense mass of ruin and rubbish. For two + years he had lived here alone, busy with building up the old house as well + as it could be done, and by great energy and incessant labor restoring it + to some of its former splendor. It was thought he would finish his days in + this way, when one day the report arose that he was going to be married. + The report, for once, proved true. + </p> + <p> + One fine day Count Claudieuse had left for Paris; and, a few days later, + his friends had been informed by letter that he had married the daughter + of one of his former colleagues, Miss Genevieve de Tassar. The amazement + had been universal. The count looked like a gentleman, and was very well + preserved; but he was at least forty-seven years old, and Miss Genevieve + was hardly twenty. Now, if the bride had been poor, they would have + understood the match, and approved it: it is but natural that a poor girl + should sacrifice her heart to her daily bread. But here it was not so. The + Marquis de Tassar was considered wealthy; and report said that his + daughter had brought her husband fifty thousand dollars. + </p> + <p> + Next they had it that the bride was fearfully ugly, infirm, or at least + hunchback, perhaps idiotic, or, at all events, of frightful temper. + </p> + <p> + By no means. She had come down; and everybody was amazed at her noble, + quiet beauty. She had conversed with them, and charmed everybody. + </p> + <p> + Was it really a love-match, as people called it at Sauveterre? Perhaps so. + Nevertheless there was no lack of old ladies who shook their heads, and + said twenty-seven years difference between husband and wife was too much, + and such a match could not turn out well. + </p> + <p> + All these dark forebodings came to nought. The fact was, that, for miles + and miles around, there was not a happier couple to be found than the + Count and the Countess Claudieuse; and two children, girls, who had + appeared at an interval of four years, seemed to have secured the + happiness of the house forever. + </p> + <p> + It is true the count retained somewhat of the haughty manners, the + reserve, and the imperious tone, which he had acquired during the time + that he controlled the destinies of certain important colonies. He was, + moreover, naturally so passionate, that the slightest excitement made him + turn purple in his face. But the countess was as gentle and as sweet as he + was violent; and as she never failed to step in between her husband and + the object of his wrath, as both he and she were naturally just, kind to + excess, and generous to all, they were beloved by everybody. There was + only one point on which the count was rather unmanageable, and that was + the game laws. He was passionately fond of hunting, and watched all the + year round with almost painful restlessness over his preserves, employing + a number of keepers, and prosecuting poachers with such energy, that + people said he would rather miss a hundred napoleons than a single bird. + </p> + <p> + The count and the countess lived quite retired, and gave their whole time, + he to agricultural pursuits, and she to the education of her children. + They entertained but little, and did not come to Sauveterre more than four + times a year, to visit the Misses Lavarande, or the old Baron de Chandore. + Every summer, towards the end of July, they went to Royan, where they had + a cottage. When the season opened, and the count went hunting, the + countess paid a visit to her relatives in Paris, with whom she usually + stayed a few weeks. + </p> + <p> + It required a storm like that of 1870 to overthrow so peaceful an + existence. When the old captain heard that the Prussians were on French + soil, he felt all the instincts of the soldier and the Frenchman awake in + his heart. He could not be kept at home, and went to headquarters. + Although a royalist at heart, he did not hesitate a moment to offer his + sword to Gambetta, whom he detested. They made him colonel of a regiment; + and he fought like a lion, from the first day to the last, when he was + thrown down and trod under foot in one of those fearful routs in which a + part of Chanzy’s army was utterly destroyed. When the armistice was + signed, he returned to Valpinson; but no one except his wife ever + succeeded in making him say a word about the campaign. He was asked to + become a candidate for the assembly, and would have certainly been + elected; but he refused, saying that he knew how to fight, but not how to + talk. + </p> + <p> + The commonwealth attorney and the magistrate listened but very carelessly + to these details, with which they were perfectly familiar. Suddenly M. + Galpin asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Are we not getting near? I look and look; but I see no trace of a fire.” + </p> + <p> + “We are in a deep valley,” replied the mayor. “But we are quite near now, + and, at the top of that hill before us, you will see enough.” + </p> + <p> + This hill is well known in the whole province, and is frequently called + the Sauveterre Mountain. It is so steep, and consists of such hard + granite, that the engineers who laid out the great turnpike turned miles + out of their way to avoid it. It overlooks the whole country; and, when M. + Seneschal and his companions had reached the top, they could not control + their excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Horresco!” murmured the attorney. + </p> + <p> + The burning house itself was hid by high trees; but columns of fire rose + high above the tops, and illumined the whole region with their sombre + light. The whole country was in a state of excitement. The short, square + tower of Brechy sent the alarm from its big bell; and in the deep shade on + all sides was heard the strange sound of the huge shells which the people + here use for signals, and for the summoning of laborers at mealtimes. + Hurried steps were heard on all the high-roads and by-roads; and peasants + were continuously rushing by, with a bucket in each hand. + </p> + <p> + “It is too late for help,” said M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + “Such a fine property!” said the mayor, “and so well managed!” And + regardless of danger, he dashed forward, down the hill; for Valpinson lies + in a deep valley, half a mile from the river. Here all was terror, + disorder, and confusion; and yet there was no lack of hands or of + good-will. At the first alarm, all the people of the neighborhood had + hurried up, and there were more coming every moment; but there was no one + there to assume the command. They were mainly engaged in saving the + furniture. The boldest tried to get into the rooms, and in a kind of rage, + threw every thing they could lay hold on out of the window. Thus the + courtyard was already half full of beds and mattresses, chairs and tables, + books, linen, and clothes. + </p> + <p> + An immense clamor greeted the mayor and his companions. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes the mayor!” cried the peasants, encouraged by his presence, + and all ready to obey him. + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal took in the whole situation at a glance. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, here I am, my friends,” he said, “and I thank you for your zeal. Now + we must try not to waste our efforts. The farm buildings and the workshops + are lost: we must give them up. Let us try to save the dwelling-house. The + river is not far. We must form a chain. Everybody in line,—men and + women! And now for water, water! Here come the engines!” + </p> + <p> + They really came thundering up: the firemen appeared on the scene. Capt. + Parenteau took the command. At last the mayor was at leisure to inquire + after Count Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + “Master is down there,” replied an old woman, pointing at a little cottage + with a thatched roof. “The doctor has had him carried there.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go and see how he is,” said the mayor to his two companions. They + stopped at the door of the only room of the cottage. It was a large room + with a floor of beaten clay; while overhead the blackened beams were full + of working tools and parcels of seeds. Two beds with twisted columns and + yellow curtains filled one side: on that on the left hand lay a little + girl, four years old, fast asleep, and rolled up in a blanket, watched + over by her sister, who was two or three years older. On the other bed, + Count Claudieuse was lying, or rather sitting; for they had supported his + back by all the pillows that had been saved from the fire. His chest was + bare, and covered with blood; and a man, Dr. Seignebos, with his coat off, + and his sleeves rolled up above the elbows, was bending over him, and + holding a sponge in one hand and a probe in the other, seemed to be + engaged in a delicate and dangerous operation. + </p> + <p> + The countess, in a light muslin dress, was standing at the foot of her + husband’s bed, pale but admirably composed and resigned. She was holding a + lamp, and moved it to and fro as the doctor directed. In a corner two + servant-women were sitting on a box, and crying, their aprons turned over + their heads. + </p> + <p> + At last the mayor of Sauveterre overcame his painful impressions, and + entered the room. Count Claudieuse was the first to perceive him, and + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here is our good M. Seneschal. Come nearer, my friend; come nearer. + You see the year 1871 is a fatal year. It will soon leave me nothing but a + few handfuls of ashes of all I possessed.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great misfortune,” replied the excellent mayor; “but, after all, + it is less than we apprehended. God be thanked, you are safe!” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows? I am suffering terribly.” + </p> + <p> + The countess trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Trivulce!” she whispered in a tone of entreaty. “Trivulce!” + </p> + <p> + Never did lover glance at his beloved with more tenderness than Count + Claudieuse did at his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, my dear Genevieve, pardon me, if I show any want of courage.” + </p> + <p> + A sudden nervous spasm seized him; and then he exclaimed in a loud voice, + which sounded like a trumpet,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir! But sir! Thunder and lightning! You kill me!” + </p> + <p> + “I have some chloroform here,” replied the physician coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not want any.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must make up your mind to suffer, and keep quiet now; for every + motion adds to your pain.” + </p> + <p> + Then sponging a jet of blood which spurted out from under his knife, he + added,— + </p> + <p> + “However, you shall have a few minutes rest now. My eyes and my hand are + exhausted. I see I am no longer young.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos was sixty years old. He was a small, thin man, with a bald + head and a bilious complexion, carelessly dressed, and spending his life + in taking off, wiping, and putting back again his large gold spectacles. + His reputation was widespread; and they told of wonderful cures which he + had accomplished. Still he had not many friends. The common people + disliked his bitterness; the peasants, his strictness in demanding his + fees; and the townspeople, his political views. + </p> + <p> + There was a story that one evening, at a public dinner, he had gotten up + and said, “I drink to the memory of the only physician of whose pure and + chaste renown I am envious,—the memory of my countryman, Dr. + Guillotin of Saintes!” + </p> + <p> + Had he really offered such a toast? The fact is, he pretended to be a + fierce radical, and was certainly the soul and the oracle of the small + socialistic clubs in the neighborhood. People looked aghast when he began + to talk of the reforms which he thought necessary; and they trembled when + he proclaimed his convictions, that “the sword and the torch ought to + search the rotten foundations of society.” + </p> + <p> + These opinions, certain utilitarian views of like eccentricity, and still + stranger experiments which he openly carried on before the whole world, + had led people more than once to doubt the soundness of his mind. The most + charitable said, “He is an oddity.” This eccentric man had naturally no + great fondness for M. Seneschal, the mayor, a former lawyer, and a + legitimist. He did not think much of the commonwealth attorney, a useless + bookworm. But he detested M. Galpin. Still he bowed to the three men; and, + without minding his patient, he said to them,— + </p> + <p> + “You see, gentlemen, Count Claudieuse is in a bad plight. He has been + fired at with a gun loaded with small shot; and wounds made in that way + are very puzzling. I trust no vital part has been injured; but I cannot + answer for any thing. I have often in my practice seen very small + injuries, wounds caused by a small-sized shot, which, nevertheless, proved + fatal, and showed their true character only twelve or fifteen hours after + the accident had happened.” + </p> + <p> + He would have gone on in this way, if the magistrate had not suddenly + interrupted him, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, you know I am here because a crime has been committed. The + criminal has to be found out, and to be punished: hence I request your + assistance, from this moment, in the name of the Law.” + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + By this single phrase M. Galpin made himself master of the situation, and + reduced the doctor to an inferior position, in which, it is true, he had + the mayor and the commonwealth attorney to bear him company. There was + nothing now to be thought of, but the crime that had been committed, and + the judge who was to punish the author. But he tried in vain to assume all + the rigidity of his official air and that contempt for human feelings + which has made justice so hateful to thousands. His whole being was + impregnated with intense satisfaction, up to his beard, cut and trimmed + like the box-hedges of an old-fashioned garden. + </p> + <p> + “Well, doctor,” he asked, “first of all, have you any objection to my + questioning your patient?” + </p> + <p> + “It would certainly be better for him to be left alone,” growled Dr. + Seignebos. “I have made him suffer enough this last hour; and I shall + directly begin again cutting out the small pieces of lead which have + honeycombed his flesh. But if it must be”— + </p> + <p> + “It must be.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, make haste; for the fever will set in presently.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon could not conceal his annoyance. He called out,— + </p> + <p> + “Galpin, Galpin!” + </p> + <p> + The other man paid no attention. Having taken a note-book and a pencil + from his pocket, he drew up close to the sick man’s bed, and asked him in + an undertone,— + </p> + <p> + “Are you strong enough, count, to answer my questions?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, perfectly!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, pray tell me all you know of the sad events of to-night.” + </p> + <p> + With the aid of his wife and Dr. Seignebos, the count raised himself on + his pillows, and began thus,— + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, the little I know will be of no use in aiding justice to + discover the guilty man. It may have been eleven o’clock, for I am not + even quite sure of the hour, when I had gone to bed, and just blown out my + candle: suddenly a bright light fell upon the window. I was amazed, and + utterly confused; for I was in that state of sleepiness which is not yet + sleep, but very much like it. I said to myself, ‘What can this be?’ but I + did not get up: I only was roused by a great noise, like the crash of a + falling wall; and then I jumped out of bed, and said to myself, ‘The house + is on fire!’ What increased my anxiety was the fact, which I at once + recollected, that there were in the courtyard, and all around the house, + some sixteen thousand bundles of dry wood, which had been cut last year. + Half dressed, I rushed downstairs. I was very much bewildered, I confess, + and could hardly succeed in opening the outer door: still I did open it at + last. But I had barely put my foot on the threshold, when I felt in my + right side, a little above the hip, a fierce pain, and heard at the same + time, quite close to me, a shot.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate interrupted him by a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Your statement, count, is certainly remarkably clear. But there is one + point we must try to establish. Were you really fired at the moment you + showed yourself at the door?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the murderer must have been quite near on the watch. He must have + known that the fire would bring you out; and he was lying in wait for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “That was and still is my impression,” declared the count. + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin turned to M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he said to him, “the murder is the principal fact with which we + have to do; and the fire is only an aggravating circumstance,—the + means which the criminal employed in order to succeed the better in + perpetrating his crime.” + </p> + <p> + Then, returning to the count, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Pray go on.” + </p> + <p> + “When I felt I was wounded,” continued Count Claudieuse, “my first impulse + was instinctively to rush forward to the place from which the gun seemed + to have been fired at me. I had not proceeded three yards, when I felt the + same pain once more in the shoulder and in the neck. This second wound was + more serous than the first; for I lost my consciousness, my head began to + swim and I fell.” + </p> + <p> + “You had not seen the murderer?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. At the moment when I fell, I thought I saw a man rush + forth from behind a pile of fagots, cross the courtyard, and disappear in + the fields.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you recognize him?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But you saw how he was dressed: you can give me a description?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I cannot. I felt as if there was a veil before my eyes; and he passed + me like a shadow.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate could hardly conceal his disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” he said, “we’ll find him out. But go on, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The count shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing more to say,” he replied. “I had fainted; and when I + recovered my consciousness, some hours later, I found myself here lying on + this bed.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin noted down the count’s answers with scrupulous exactness: when + he had done, he asked again,— + </p> + <p> + “We must return to the details of the attack, and examine them minutely. + Now, however, it is important to know what happened after you fell. Who + could tell us that?” + </p> + <p> + “My wife, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. The countess, no doubt, got up when you rose.” + </p> + <p> + “My wife had not gone to bed.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate turned suddenly to the countess; and at a glance he + perceived that her costume was not that of a lady who had been suddenly + roused from slumber by the burning of her house. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he said to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Bertha,” the count went on to state, “our youngest daughter, who is lying + there on that bed, under the blanket, has the measles, and is suffering + terribly. My wife was sitting up with her. Unfortunately the windows of + her room look upon the garden, on the side opposite to that where the fire + broke out.” + </p> + <p> + “How, then, did the countess become aware of the accident?” asked the + magistrate. + </p> + <p> + Without waiting for a more direct question, the countess came forward and + said,— + </p> + <p> + “As my husband has just told you, I was sitting up with my little Bertha. + I was rather tired; for I had sat up the night before also, and I had + begun to nod, when a sudden noise aroused me. I was not quite sure whether + I had really heard such a noise; but just then a second shot was heard. I + left the room more astonished than frightened. Ah, sir! The fire had + already made such headway, that the staircase was as light as in broad + day. I went down in great haste. The outer door was open. I went out; and + there, some five or six yards from me, I saw, by the light of the flames, + the body of my husband lying on the ground. I threw myself upon him; but + he did not even hear me; his heart had ceased to beat. I thought he was + dead; I called for help; I was in despair.” + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal and M. Daubigeon trembled with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Well, very well!” said M. Galpin, with an air of satisfaction,—“very + well done!” + </p> + <p> + “You know,” continued the countess, “how hard it is to rouse + country-people. It seems to me I remained ever so long alone there, + kneeling by the side of my husband. At last the brightness of the fire + awakened some of the farm-hands, the workmen, and our servants. They + rushed out, crying, ‘Fire!’ When they saw me, they ran up and helped me + carry my husband to a place of safety; for the danger was increasing every + minute. The fire was spreading with terrific violence, thanks to a furious + wind. The barns were one vast mass of fire; the outbuildings were burning; + the distillery was in a blaze; and the roof of the dwelling-house was + flaming up in various places. And there was not one cool head among them + all. I was so utterly bewildered, that I forgot all about my children; and + their room was already in flames, when a brave, bold fellow rushed in, and + snatched them from the very jaws of death. I did not come to myself till + Dr. Seignebos arrived, and spoke to me words of hope. This fire will + probably ruin us; but what matters that, so long as my husband and my + children are safe?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos had more than once given utterance to his contemptuous + impatience: he did not appreciate these preliminary steps. The others, + however, the mayor, the attorney, and even the servants, had hardly been + able to suppress their excitement. He shrugged his shoulders, and growled + between his teeth,— + </p> + <p> + “Mere formalities! How petty! How childish!” + </p> + <p> + After having taken off his spectacles, wiped them and replaced them twenty + times, he had sat down at the rickety table in the corner of the room, and + amused himself with arranging the fifteen or twenty shot he had extracted + from the count’s wounds, in long lines or small circles. But, when the + countess uttered her last words, he rose, and, turning to M. Galpin, said + in a curt tone,— + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir, I hope you will let me have my patient again.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate was not a little incensed: there was reason enough, surely; + and, frowning fiercely, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I appreciate, sir, the importance of your duties; but mine are, I think, + by no means less solemn nor less urgent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Consequently you will be pleased, sir, to grant me five minutes more.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten, if it must be, sir. Only I warn you that every minute henceforth may + endanger the life of my patient.” + </p> + <p> + They had drawn near to each other, and were measuring each other with + defiant looks, which betrayed the bitterest animosity. They would surely + not quarrel at the bedside of a dying man? The countess seemed to fear + such a thing; for she said reproachfully,— + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I pray, gentlemen”— + </p> + <p> + Perhaps her intervention would have been of no avail, if M. Seneschal and + M. Daubigeon had not stepped in, each addressing one of the two + adversaries. M. Galpin was apparently the most obstinate of the two; for, + in spite of all, he began once more to question the count, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I have only one more question to ask you, sir: Where and how were you + standing, where and how do you think the murderer was standing, at the + moment when the crime was committed?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the count, evidently with a great effort, “I was standing, + as I told you, on the threshold of my door, facing the courtyard. The + murderer must have been standing some twenty yards off, on my right, + behind a pile of wood.” + </p> + <p> + When he had written down the answer of the wounded man, the magistrate + turned once more to the physician, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You heard what was said, sir. It is for you now to aid justice by telling + us at what distance the murderer must have been when he fired.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t guess riddles,” replied the physician coarsely. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, have a care, sir!” said M. Galpin. “Justice, whom I here represent, + has the right and the means to enforce respect. You are a physician, sir; + and your science is able to answer my question with almost mathematical + accuracy.” + </p> + <p> + The physician laughed, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed! Science has reached that point, has it? Which science? + Medical jurisprudence, no doubt,—that part of our profession which + is at the service of the courts, and obeys the judges’ behests.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + But the doctor was not the man to allow himself to be defeated a second + time. He went on coolly,— + </p> + <p> + “I know what you are going to say; there is no handbook of medical + jurisprudence which does not peremptorily settle the question you ask me. + I have studied these handbooks, these formidable weapons which you + gentlemen of the bar know so well how to handle. I know the opinions of a + Devergie and an Orfila, I know even what Casper and Tardieu, and a host of + others teach on that subject. I am fully aware that these gentlemen claim + to be able to tell you by the inch at what distance a shot has been fired. + But I am not so skilful. I am only a poor country-practitioner, a simple + healer of diseases. And before I give an opinion which may cost a poor + devil his life, innocent though he be, I must have time to reflect, to + consult data, and to compare other cases in my practice.” + </p> + <p> + He was so evidently right in reality, if not in form, that even M. Galpin + gave way. + </p> + <p> + “It is merely as a matter of information that I request your opinion, + sir,” he replied. “Your real and carefully-considered professional opinion + will, of course, be given in a special statement.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if that is the case!” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, inform me, then unofficially, what you think of the nature of the + wounds of Count Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos settled his spectacles ceremoniously on his nose, and then + replied,— + </p> + <p> + “My impression, so far as I am now able to judge, is that the count has + stated the facts precisely as they were. I am quite ready to believe that + the murderer was lying in ambush behind one of the piles of wood, and at + the distance which he has mentioned. I am also able to affirm that the two + shots were fired at different distances,—one much nearer than the + other. The proof of it lies in the nature of the wounds, one of which, + near the hip may be scientifically called”— + </p> + <p> + “But we know at what distance a ball is spent,” broke in M. Seneschal, + whom the doctor’s dogmatic tone began to annoy. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, do we know that, indeed? You know it, M. Seneschal? Well, I declare I + do not know it. To be sure, I bear in mind, what you seem to forget, that + we have no longer, as in former days, only three or four kinds of guns. + Did you think of the immense variety of fire-arms, French and English, + American and German, which are nowadays found in everybody’s hands? Do you + not see, you who have been a lawyer and a magistrate, that the whole legal + question will be based upon this grave and all-important point?” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the physician resumed his instruments, resolved to give no other + answer, and was about to go to work once more when fearful cries were + heard without; and the lawyers, the mayor, and the countess herself, + rushed at once to the door. + </p> + <p> + These cries were, unfortunately, not uttered without cause. The roof of + the main building had just fallen in, burying under its ruins the poor + drummer who had a few hours ago beaten the alarm, and one of the firemen, + the most respected carpenter in Sauveterre, and a father of five children. + </p> + <p> + Capt. Parenteau seemed to be maddened by this disaster; and all vied with + each other in efforts to rescue the poor fellows, who were uttering + shrieks of horror that rose high above the crash of falling timbers. But + all their endeavors were unavailing. One of the gendarmes and a farmer, + who had nearly succeeded in reaching the sufferers, barely escaped being + burnt themselves, and were only rescued after having been dangerously + injured. Then only it seemed as if all became fully aware of the + abominable crime committed by the incendiary. Then only the clouds of + smoke and the columns of fire, which rose high into the air, were + accompanied by fierce cries of vengeance rising heavenwards. + </p> + <p> + “Death to the incendiary! Death!” + </p> + <p> + At the moment M. Seneschal felt himself inspired with a sudden thought. He + knew how cautious peasants are, and how difficult it is to make them tell + what they know. He climbed, therefore, upon a heap of fallen beams, and + said in a clear, loud voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friends, you are right: death to the incendiary! Yes, the + unfortunate victims of the basest of all crimes must be avenged. We must + find out the incendiary; we must! You want it to be done, don’t you? Well, + it depends only on you. There must be some one among you who knows + something about this matter. Let him come forward and tell us what he has + seen or heard. Remember that the smallest trifle may be a clew to the + crime. You would be as bad as the incendiary himself, if you concealed + him. Just think it over, consider.” + </p> + <p> + Loud voices were heard in the crowd; then suddenly a voice said,— + </p> + <p> + “There is one here who can tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Cocoleu. He was there from the beginning. It was he who went and brought + the children of the countess out of their room. What has become of him?—Cocoleu, + Cocoleu!” + </p> + <p> + One must have lived in the country, among these simple-minded peasants, to + understand the excitement and the fury of all these men and women as they + crowded around the ruins of Valpinson. People in town do not mind + brigands, in general: they have their gas, their strong doors, and the + police. They are generally little afraid of fire. They have their + fire-alarms; and at the first spark the neighbor cries, “Fire!” The + engines come racing up; and water comes forth as if by magic. But it is + very different in the country: here every man is constantly under a sense + of his isolation. A simple latch protects his door; and no one watches + over his safety at night. If a murderer should attack him, his cries could + bring no help. If fire should break out, his house would be burnt down + before the neighbors could reach it; and he is happy who can save his own + life and that of his family. Hence all these good people, whom the mayor’s + words had deeply excited, were eager to find out the only man who knew + anything about this calamity, Cocoleu. + </p> + <p> + He was well known among them, and for many years. + </p> + <p> + There was not one among them who had not given him a piece of bread, or a + bowl of soup, when he was hungry; not one of them had ever refused him a + night’s rest on the straw in his barn, when it was raining or freezing, + and the poor fellow wanted a shelter. + </p> + <p> + For Cocoleu was one of those unfortunate beings who labor under a grievous + physical or moral deformity. + </p> + <p> + Some twenty years ago, a wealthy land-owner in Brechy had sent to the + nearest town for half a dozen painters, whom he kept at his house nearly a + whole summer, painting and decorating his newly-built house. One of these + men had seduced a girl in the neighborhood, whom he had bewitched by his + long white blouse, his handsome brown mustache, his good spirits, gay + songs, and flattering speeches. But, when the work was done, the tempter + had flown away with the others, without thinking any more of the poor girl + than of the last cigar which he had smoked. + </p> + <p> + And yet she was expecting a child. When she could no longer conceal her + condition, she was turned out of the house in which she had been employed; + and her family, unable to support themselves, drove her away without + mercy. Overcome with grief, shame, and remorse, poor Colette wandered from + farm to farm, begging, insulted, laughed at, beaten even at times. Thus it + came about, that in a dark wood, one dismal winter evening, she gave life + to a male child. No one ever understood how mother and child managed to + survive. But both lived; and for many a year they were seen in and around + Sauveterre, covered with rags, and living upon the dear-bought generosity + of the peasants. + </p> + <p> + Then the mother died, utterly forsaken by human help, as she had lived. + They found her body, one morning, in a ditch by the wayside. + </p> + <p> + The child survived alone. He was then eight years old, quite strong and + tall for his age. A farmer took pity on him, and took him home. The little + wretch was not fit for anything: he could not even keep his master’s cows. + During his mother’s lifetime, his silence, his wild looks, and his savage + appearance, had been attributed to his wretched mode of life. But when + people began to be interested in him, they found out that his intellect + had never been aroused. He was an idiot, and, besides, subject to that + terrible nervous affection which at times shakes the whole body and + disfigures the face by the violence of uncontrollable convulsions. He was + not a deaf-mute; but he could only stammer out with intense difficulty a + few disjointed syllables. Sometimes the country people would say to him,— + </p> + <p> + “Tell us your name, and you shall have a cent.” + </p> + <p> + Then it took him five minutes’ hard work to utter, amid a thousand painful + contortions, the name of his mother. + </p> + <p> + “Co-co-co-lette.” + </p> + <p> + Hence came his name Cocoleu. It had been ascertained that he was utterly + unable to do anything; and people ceased to interest themselves in his + behalf. The consequence was, that he became a vagabond as of old. + </p> + <p> + It was about this time that Dr. Seignebos, on one of his visits, met him + one day on the public road. + </p> + <p> + This excellent man had, among other extraordinary notions, the conviction + that idiocy is nothing more than a defective state of the brains, which + may be remedied by the use of certain well-known substances, such as + phosphorus, for instance. He lost no time in seizing upon this admirable + opportunity to test his theory. Cocoleu was sent for, and installed in his + house. He subjected him to a treatment which he kept secret; and only a + druggist at Sauveterre, who was also well known as entertaining very + extraordinary notions, knew what had happened. At the end of eighteen + months, Cocoleu had fallen off terribly: he talked perhaps, a little more + fluently; but his intellect had not been perceptibly improved. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos was discouraged. He made up a parcel of things which he had + given to his patient, put it into his hands, pushed him out of his door, + and told him never to come back again. + </p> + <p> + The doctor had rendered Cocoleu a sad service. The poor idiot had lost the + habit of privation: he had forgotten how to go from door to door, asking + for alms; and he would have perished, if his good fortune had not led him + to knock at the door of the house at Valpinson. + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse and his wife were touched by his wretchedness, and + determined to take charge of him. They gave him a room and a bed at one of + the farmhouses; but they could never induce him to stay there. He was by + nature a vagabond; and the instinct was too strong for him. In winter, + frost and snow kept him in for a little while; but as soon as the first + leaves came out, he went wandering again through forest and field, + remaining absent often for weeks altogether. + </p> + <p> + At last, however, something seemed to have been aroused in him, which + looked like the instinct of a domesticated animal. His attachment to the + countess resembled that of a dog, even in the capers and cries with which + he greeted her whenever he saw her. Often, when she went out, he + accompanied her, running and frolicking around her just like a dog. He was + also very fond of little girls, and seemed to resent it when he was kept + from them: for people were afraid his nervous attacks might affect the + children. + </p> + <p> + With time he had also become capable of performing some simple service. He + could be intrusted with certain messages: he could water the flowers, + summon a servant, or even carry a letter to the post-office at Brechy. His + progress in this respect was so marked, that some of the more cunning + peasants began to suspect that Cocoleu was not so “innocent,” after all, + as he looked, and that he was cleverly playing the fool in order to enjoy + life easily. + </p> + <p> + “We have him at last,” cried several voices at once. “Here he is; here he + is!” + </p> + <p> + The crowd made way promptly; and almost immediately a young man appeared, + led and pushed forward by several persons. Cocoleu’s clothes, all in + disorder, showed clearly that he had offered a stout resistance. He was a + youth of about eighteen years, very tall, quite beardless, excessively + thin, and so loosely jointed, that he looked like a hunchback. A mass of + reddish hair came down his low, retreating forehead. His small eyes, his + enormous mouth bristling with sharp teeth, his broad flat nose, and his + immense ears, gave to his face a strange idiotic expression, and to his + whole appearance a most painful brutish air. + </p> + <p> + “What must we do with him?” asked the peasants of the mayor. + </p> + <p> + “We must take him before the magistrate, my friends,” replied M. + Seneschal,—“down there in that cottage, where you have carried the + count.” + </p> + <p> + “And we’ll make him talk,” threatened his captors. “You hear! Go on, + quick!” + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin and the doctor had both considered it a point of honor who + should show the most perfect indifference; and thus they had betrayed by + no sign their curiosity to know what was going on out doors. Dr. Seignebos + was on the point of resuming the operation; and, as coolly as if he had + been in his own rooms at home, he was washing the sponge which he had just + used, and wiping his instruments. The magistrate, on the other hand, was + standing in the centre of the room, his arms crossed, his eyes fixed upon + the infinite, apparently. It may be he was thinking of his star which had + at last brought him that famous criminal case for which he had ardently + longed many a year. + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse, however, was very far from sharing their reserve. He was + tossing about on his bed; and as soon as the mayor and his friend + reappeared, looking quite upset, he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “What does that uproar mean?” + </p> + <p> + And, when he had heard of the calamity, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Great God! And I was complaining of my losses. Two men killed! That is a + real misfortune. Poor men! to die because they were so brave,—Bolton + hardly thirty years old; Guillebault, a father of a family, who leaves + five children, and not a cent!” + </p> + <p> + The countess, coming in at that moment, heard his last words. + </p> + <p> + “As long as we have a mouthful of bread,” she said in a voice full of deep + emotion, “neither Bolton’s mother, nor Guillebault’s children, shall ever + know what want is.” + </p> + <p> + She could not say another word; for at that moment the peasants crowded + into the room, pushing the prisoner before them. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the magistrate?” they asked. “Here is a witness!” + </p> + <p> + “What, Cocoleu!” exclaimed the count. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he knows something: he said so himself. We want him to tell it to + the magistrate. We want the incendiary to be caught.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos had frowned fiercely. He execrated Cocoleu, whose sight + recalled to him that great failure which the good people of Sauveterre + were not likely to forget soon. + </p> + <p> + “You do not really mean to examine him?” he asked, turning to M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” answered the magistrate dryly. + </p> + <p> + “Because he is an imbecile, sir, an idiot. Because he cannot possibly + understand your questions, or the importance of his answers.” + </p> + <p> + “He may give us a valuable hint, nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + “He? A man who has no sense? You don’t really think so. The law cannot + attach any importance to the evidence of a fool.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin betrayed his impatience by an increase of stiffness, as he + replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I know my duty, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” replied the physician,—“I also know what I have to do. You + have summoned me to assist you in this investigation. I obey; and I + declare officially, that the mental condition of this unfortunate man + makes his evidence utterly worthless. I appeal to the commonwealth + attorney.” + </p> + <p> + He had hoped for a word of encouragement from M. Daubigeon; but nothing + came. Then he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Take care, sir, or you may get yourself into trouble. What would you do + if this poor fellow should make a formal charge against any one? Could you + attach any weight to his word?” + </p> + <p> + The peasants were listening with open mouths. One of them said,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Cocoleu is not so innocent as he looks.” + </p> + <p> + “He can say very well what he wants to say, the scamp!” added another. + </p> + <p> + “At all events, I am indebted to him for the life of my children,” said + the count gently. “He thought of them when I was unconscious, and when no + one else remembered them. Come, Cocoleu, come nearer, my friend, don’t be + afraid: there is no one here to hurt you.” + </p> + <p> + It was very well the count used such kind words; for Cocoleu was + thoroughly terrified by the brutal treatment he had received, and was + trembling in all his limbs. + </p> + <p> + “I am—not—a—afraid,” he stammered out. + </p> + <p> + “Once more I protest,” said the physician. + </p> + <p> + He had found out that he stood not alone in his opinion. Count Claudieuse + came to his assistance, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “I really think it might be dangerous to question Cocoleu.” + </p> + <p> + But the magistrate was master of the situation, and conscious of all the + powers conferred upon him by the laws of France in such cases. + </p> + <p> + “I must beg, gentlemen,” he said, in a tone which did not allow of any + reply,—“I must beg to be permitted to act in my own way.” + </p> + <p> + And sitting down, he asked Cocoleu,— + </p> + <p> + “Come, my boy, listen to me, and try to understand what I say. Do you know + what has happened at Valpinson?” + </p> + <p> + “Fire,” replied the idiot. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my friend, fire, which burns down the house of your benefactor,—fire, + which has killed two good men. But that is not all: they have tried to + murder the count. Do you see him there in his bed, wounded, and covered + with blood? Do you see the countess, how she suffers?” + </p> + <p> + Did Cocoleu follow him? His distorted features betrayed nothing of what + might be going on within him. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” growled the doctor, “what obstinacy! What folly!” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin heard him, and said angrily,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, do not force me to remind you that I have not far from here, men + whose duty it is to see that my authority is respected here.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning again to the poor idiot, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “All these misfortunes are the work of a vile incendiary. You hate him, + don’t you; you detest him, the rascal!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Cocoleu. + </p> + <p> + “You want him to be punished, don’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then you must help me to find him out, so that the gendarmes may + catch him, and put him in jail. You know who it is; you have told these + people and”— + </p> + <p> + He paused, and after a moment, as Cocoleu kept silent, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “But, now I think of it, whom has this poor fellow talked to?” + </p> + <p> + Not one of the peasants could tell. They inquired; but no answer came. + Perhaps Cocoleu had never said what he was reported to have said. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is,” said one of the tenants at Valpinson, “that the poor devil, + so to say, never sleeps, and that he is roaming about all night around the + house and the farm buildings.” + </p> + <p> + This was a new light for M. Galpin; suddenly changing the form of his + interrogatory, he asked Cocoleu,— + </p> + <p> + “Where did you spend the night?” + </p> + <p> + “In—in—the—court—yard.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you asleep when the fire broke out?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see it commence?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How did it commence?” + </p> + <p> + The idiot looked fixedly at the Countess Claudieuse with the timid and + abject expression of a dog who tries to read something in his master’s + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Tell us, my friend,” said the Countess gently,—“tell us.” + </p> + <p> + A flash of intelligence shone in Cocoleu’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “They—they set it on fire,” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “On purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + There was not a person present at this extraordinary scene who did not + anxiously hold his breath as the word was uttered. The doctor alone kept + cool, and exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Such an examination is sheer folly!” + </p> + <p> + But the magistrate did not seem to hear his words; and, turning to + Cocoleu, he asked him, in a deeply agitated tone of voice— + </p> + <p> + “Did you see the gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Very—very—well.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “What is his name? Tell us.” + </p> + <p> + Cocoleu’s features betrayed the fearful anguish of his mind. He hesitated, + and at last he answered, making a violent effort,—“Bois—Bois—Boiscoran!” + </p> + <p> + The name was received with murmurs of indignation and incredulous + laughter. There was not a shadow of doubt or of suspicion. The peasants + said,— + </p> + <p> + “M. de Boiscoran an incendiary! Who does he think will believe that + story?” + </p> + <p> + “It is absurd!” said Count Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” repeated the mayor and his friend. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Siegnebos had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them with an + air of intense satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you?” he exclaimed. “But the gentleman did not condescend + to attach any importance to my suggestions.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate was by far the most excited man in the crowd. He had turned + excessively pale, and made, visibly, the greatest efforts to preserve his + equanimity. The commonwealth attorney leaned over towards him, and + whispered,— + </p> + <p> + “If I were in your place, I would stop here, and consider the answer as + not given.” + </p> + <p> + But M. Galpin was one of those men who are blinded by self-conceit, and + who would rather be cut to pieces than admit that they have been mistaken. + He answered,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall go on.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning once more to Cocoleu, in the midst of so deep a silence that + the buzzing of a fly would have been distinctly heard, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, my boy, what you say? Do you know that you are accusing a + man of a horrible crime?” + </p> + <p> + Whether Cocoleu understood, or not, he was evidently deeply agitated. Big + drops of perspiration rolled slowly down his temples; and nervous shocks + agitated his limbs, and convulsed his features. + </p> + <p> + “I, I—am—telling the—truth!” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “M. de. Boiscoran has set Valpinson on fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he do it?” + </p> + <p> + Cocoleu’s restless eyes wandered incessantly from the count, who looked + indignant, to the countess, who seemed to listen with painful surprise. + The magistrate repeated,— + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” + </p> + <p> + After another moment’s hesitation, the idiot began to explain what he had + seen; and it took him many minutes to state, amid countless contortions, + and painful efforts to speak, that he had seen M. de Boiscoran pull out + some papers from his pocket, light them with a match, put them under a + rick of straw near by, and push the burning mass towards two enormous + piles of wood which were in close contact with a vat full of spirits. + </p> + <p> + “This is sheer nonsense!” cried the doctor, thus giving words to what they + all seemed to feel. + </p> + <p> + But M. Galpin had mastered his excitement. He said solemnly,— + </p> + <p> + “At the first sign of applause or of displeasure, I shall send for the + gendarmes, and have the room cleared.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning once more to Cocoleu, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Since you saw M. de Boiscoran so distinctly, tell us how he was dressed.” + </p> + <p> + “He had light trousers on,” replied the idiot, stammering still most + painfully, “a dark-brown shooting-jacket, and a big straw hat. His + trousers were stuffed into his boots.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three peasants looked at each other, as if they had at last hit + upon a suspicious fact. The costume which Cocoleu had so accurately + described was well known to them all. + </p> + <p> + “And when he had kindled the fire,” said the magistrate again, “what did + he do next?” + </p> + <p> + “He hid behind the woodpile.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “He loaded his gun, and, when master came out, he fired.” + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse was so indignant that he forgot the pain which his wounds + caused him, and raised himself on his bed. + </p> + <p> + “It is monstrous,” he exclaimed, “to allow an idiot to charge an honorable + man with such a crime! If he really saw M. de Boiscoran set the house on + fire, and hide himself in order to murder me, why did he not come and warn + me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Galpin repeated the question submissively, to the great amazement of + the mayor and M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not give warning?” he asked Cocoleu. + </p> + <p> + But the efforts which the unfortunate man had made during the last + half-hour had exhausted his little strength. He broke out into stupid + laughter; and almost instantly one of his fearful nervous attacks overcame + him: he fell down yelling, and had to be carried away. + </p> + <p> + The magistrate had risen, pale and deeply excited, but evidently + meditating on what was to be done next. The commonwealth attorney asked + him in an undertone what he was going to do; and the lawyer replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Prosecute!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Can I do otherwise in my position? God is my witness that I tried my + best, by urging this poor idiot, to prove the absurdity of his accusation. + But the result has disappointed me.” + </p> + <p> + “And now?” + </p> + <p> + “Now I can no longer hesitate. There have been ten witnesses present at + the examination. My honor is at stake. I must establish either the guilt + or the innocence of the man whom Cocoleu accuses.” Immediately, walking up + to the count’s bed, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Will you have the kindness, Count Claudieuse, to tell me what your + relations are to M. de Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + Surprise and indignation caused the wounded man to blush deeply. + </p> + <p> + “Can it be possible, sir, that you believe the words of that idiot?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe nothing,” answered the magistrate. “My duty is to unravel the + truth; and I mean to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor has told you what the state of Cocoleu’s mind is?” + </p> + <p> + “Count, I beg you will answer my question.” + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse looked angry; but he replied promptly,— + </p> + <p> + “My relations with M. de Boiscoran are neither good nor bad. We have + none.” + </p> + <p> + “It is reported, I have heard it myself, that you are on bad terms.” + </p> + <p> + “On no terms at all. I never leave Valpinson, and M. de Boiscoran spends + nine months of the year in Paris. He has never called at my house, and I + have never been in his.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been overheard speaking of him in unmeasured terms.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be. We are neither of the same age, nor have we the same tastes + or the same opinions. He is young: I am old. He likes Paris and the great + world: I am fond of solitude and hunting. I am a Legitimist: he used to be + an Orleanist, and now he is a Republican. I believe that the descendant of + our old kings alone can save the country; and he is convinced that the + happiness of France is possible only under a Republic. But two men may be + enemies, and yet esteem each other. M. de Boiscoran is an honorable man; + he has done his duty bravely in the war, he has fought well, and has been + wounded.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin noted down these answers with extreme care. When he had done so, + he continued,— + </p> + <p> + “The question is not one of political opinions only. You have had personal + difficulties with M. de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “Of no importance.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg pardon: you have been at law.” + </p> + <p> + “Our estates adjoin each other. There is an unlucky brook between us, + which is a source of constant trouble to the neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin shook his head, and added,— + </p> + <p> + “These are not the only difficulties you have had with each other. + Everybody in the country knows that you have had violent altercations.” + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse seemed to be in great distress. + </p> + <p> + “It is true: we have used hard words. M. de Boiscoran had two wretched + dogs that were continually escaping from his kennels, and came hunting in + my fields. You cannot imagine how much game they destroyed.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so. And one day you met M. de Boiscoran, and you warned him that + you would shoot his dogs.” + </p> + <p> + “I must confess I was furious. But I was wrong, a thousand times wrong: I + did threaten”— + </p> + <p> + “That is it. You were both of you armed. You threatened one another: he + actually aimed at you. Don’t deny it. A number of persons have seen it; + and I know it. He has told me so himself.” + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + There was not a person in the whole district who did not know of what a + fearful disease poor Cocoleu was suffering; and everybody knew, also, that + it was perfectly useless to try and help him. The two men who had taken + him out had therefore laid him simply on a pile of wet straw, and then + they had left him to himself, eager as they were to see and hear what was + going on. + </p> + <p> + It must be said, in justice to the several hundred peasants who were + crowding around the smoking ruins of Valpinson, that they treated the + madman who had accused M. de Boiscoran of such a crime, neither with cruel + jokes nor with fierce curses. Unfortunately, first impulses, which are apt + to be good impulses, do not last long. One of those idle + good-for-nothings, drunkards, envious scamps who are found in every + community, in the country as well as in the city, cried out,— + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” + </p> + <p> + These few words opened at once a door to all kinds of bold guesses. + </p> + <p> + Everybody had heard something about the quarrel between Count Claudieuse + and M. de Boiscoran. It was well known, moreover, that the provocation had + always come from the count, and that the latter had invariably given way + in the end. Why, therefore, might not M. de Boiscoran, impatient at last, + have resorted to such means in order to avenge himself on a man whom they + thought he must needs hate, and whom he probably feared at the same time? + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he would not do it, because he is a nobleman, and because he is + rich?” they added sneeringly. + </p> + <p> + The next step was, of course, to look out for circumstances which might + support such a theory; and the opportunity was not lacking. Groups were + formed; and soon two men and a woman declared aloud that they could + astonish the world if they chose to talk. They were urged to tell what + they knew; and, of course, they refused. But they had said too much + already. Willing or not willing, they were carried up to the house, where, + at that very moment, M. Galpin was examining Count Claudieuse. The excited + crowd made such a disturbance, that M. Seneschal, trembling at the idea of + a new accident, rushed out to the door. + </p> + <p> + “What is it now?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “More witnesses,” replied the peasants. “Here are some more witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + The mayor turned round, and, after having exchanged glances with M. + Daubigeon, he said to the magistrate,— + </p> + <p> + “They are bringing you some more witnesses, sir.” + </p> + <p> + No doubt M. Galpin was little pleased at the interruption; but he knew the + people well enough to bear in mind, that, unless he took them at the + moment when they were willing to talk, he might never be able to get any + thing out of them at any other time. + </p> + <p> + “We shall return some other time to our conversation,” he said to Count + Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + Then, replying to M. Seneschal, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let the witnesses come in, but one by one.” + </p> + <p> + The first who entered was the only son of a well-to-do farmer in the + village of Brechy, called Ribot. He was a young fellow of about + twenty-five, broad-shouldered, with a very small head, a low brow, and + formidable crimson ears. For twenty miles all around, he was reputed to be + an irresistible beau,—a reputation of which he was very proud. After + having asked him his name, his first names, and his age, M. Galpin said,— + </p> + <p> + “What do you know?” + </p> + <p> + The young man straightened himself, and with a marvellously conceited air, + which set all the peasants a-laughing, he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I was out that night on some little private business of my own. I was on + the other side of the chateau of Boiscoran. Somebody was waiting for me, + and I was behind time: so I cut right across the marsh. I knew the rains + of the last days would have filled all the ditches; but, when a man is out + on such important business as mine was, he can always find his way”— + </p> + <p> + “Spare us those tedious details,” said the magistrate coldly. The handsome + fellow looked surprised, rather than offended, by the interruption, and + then went on,— + </p> + <p> + “As your Honor desires. Well, it was about eight o’clock, or a little + more, and it was growing dark, when I reached the Seille swamps. They were + overflowing; and the water was two inches above the stones of the canal. I + asked myself how I should get across without spoiling my clothes, when I + saw M. de Boiscoran coming towards me from the other side.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure it was he?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I should think so! I talked to him. But stop, he was not afraid of + getting wet. Without much ado, he rolled up his trousers, stuffed them + into the tops of his tall boots, and went right through. Just then he saw + me, and seemed to be surprised. I was as much so as he was. ‘Why, is it + you, sir?’ I said. He replied ‘Yes: I have to see somebody at Brechy.’ + That was very probably so; still I said again, ‘But you have chosen a + queer way.’ He laughed. ‘I did not know the swamps were overflowed,’ he + answered, ‘and I thought I would shoot some snipes.’ As he said this, he + showed me his gun. At that moment I had nothing to say; but now, when I + think it over, it looks queer to me.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin had written down the statement as fast as it was given. Then he + asked,— + </p> + <p> + “How was M. de Boiscoran dressed?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop. He had grayish trousers on, a shooting-jacket of brown velveteen, + and a broad-brimmed panama hat.” + </p> + <p> + The count and the countess looked distressed and almost overcome; nor did + the mayor and his friend seem to be less troubled. One circumstance in + Ribot’s evidence seemed to have struck them with peculiar force,—the + fact that he had seen M. de Boiscoran push his trousers inside his boots. + </p> + <p> + “You can go,” said M. Galpin to the young man. “Let another witness come + in.” + </p> + <p> + The next one was an old man of bad reputation, who lived alone in an old + hut two miles from Valpinson. He was called Father Gaudry. Unlike young + Ribot, who had shown great assurance, the old man looked humble and + cringing in his dirty, ill-smelling rags. After having given his name, he + said,— + </p> + <p> + “It might have been eleven o’clock at night, and I was going through the + forest of Rochepommier, along one of the little by-paths”— + </p> + <p> + “You were stealing wood!” said the magistrate sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Great God, what an idea!” cried the old man, raising his hands to heaven. + “How can you say such a thing! I steal wood! No, my dear sir, I was very + quietly going to sleep in the forest, so as to be up with daylight, and + gather champignons and other mushrooms to sell at Sauveterre. Well, I was + trotting along, when, all of a sudden, I hear footsteps behind me. + Naturally, I was frightened.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you were stealing!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! my dear sir; only, at night, you understand. Well, I hid behind a + tree; and almost at the same moment I saw M. de Boiscoran pass by. I + recognized him perfectly in spite of the dark; for he seemed to be in a + great rage, talked loud to himself, swore, gesticulated, and tore handfuls + of leaves from the branches.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he have a gun?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear sir; for that was the very thing that frightened me so. I + thought he was a keeper.” + </p> + <p> + The third and last witness was a good old woman, Mrs. Courtois, whose + little farm lay on the other side of the forest of Rochepommier. When she + was asked, she hesitated a moment, and then she said,— + </p> + <p> + “I do not know much; but I will tell you all I do know. As we expected to + have a house full of workmen a few days hence, and as I was going to bake + bread to-morrow, I was going with my ass to the mill on Sauveterre + Mountain to fetch flour. The miller had not any ready; but he told me, if + I could wait, he would let me have some: and so I staid to supper. About + ten o’clock, they gave me a bag full of flour. The boys put it on my ass, + and I went home. I was about half-way, and it was, perhaps, eleven + o’clock, when, just at the edge of the forest of Rochepommier, my ass + stumbled, and the bag fell off. I had a great deal of trouble, for I was + not strong enough to lift it alone; and just then a man came out of the + woods, quite near me. I called to him, and he came. It was M. de + Boiscoran: I ask him to help me; and at once, without losing a moment, he + puts his gun down, lifts the bag from the ground, and puts it on my ass. I + thank him. He says, ‘Welcome,’ and—that is all.” + </p> + <p> + The mayor had been all this time standing in the door of the chamber, + performing the humble duty of a doorkeeper, and barring the entrance to + the eager and curious crowd outside. When Mrs. Courtois retired, quite + bewildered by her own words, and regretting what she had said, he called + out,— + </p> + <p> + “Is there any one else who knows any thing?” + </p> + <p> + As nobody appeared, he closed the door, and said curtly,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you can go home now, my friends. Let the law have free + course.” + </p> + <p> + The law, represented by the magistrate, was a prey at that moment to the + most cruel perplexity. M. Galpin was utterly overcome by consternation. He + sat at the little table, on which he had been writing, his head resting on + his hands, thinking, apparently, how he could find a way out of this + labyrinth. + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden he rose, and forgetting, for a moment, his customary + rigidity, he let his mask of icy impassiveness drop off his face, and + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well?” as if, in his despair, he had hoped for some help or advice in his + troubles,—“well?” + </p> + <p> + No answer came. + </p> + <p> + All the others were as much troubled as he was. They all tried to shake + off the overwhelming impression made by this accumulation of evidence; but + in vain. At last, after a moment’s silence, the magistrate said with + strange bitterness,— + </p> + <p> + “You see, gentlemen, I was right in examining Cocoleu. Oh! don’t attempt + to deny it: you share my doubts and my suspicions, I see it. Is there one + among you who would dare assert that the terrible excitement of this poor + man has not restored to him for a time the use of his reason? When he told + you that he had witnessed the crime, and when he gave the name of the + criminal, you looked incredulous. But then other witnesses came; and their + united evidence, corresponding without a missing link, constitutes a + terrible presumption.” + </p> + <p> + He became animated again. Professional habits, stronger than every thing + else, obtained once more the mastery. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Boiscoran was at Valpinson to-night: that is clearly established. + Well, how did he get here? By concealing himself. Between his own house + and Valpinson there are two public roads,—one by Brechy, and another + around the swamps. Does M. de Boiscoran take either of the two? No. He + cuts straight across the marshes, at the risk of sinking in, or of getting + wet from head to foot. On his return he chooses, in spite of the darkness, + the forest of Rochepommier, unmindful of the danger he runs to lose his + way, and to wander about in it till daybreak. What was he doing this for? + Evidently, in order not to be seen. And, in fact, whom does he meet?—a + loose fellow, Ribot, who is himself in hiding on account of some + love-intrigue; a wood-stealer, Gaudry, whose only anxiety is to avoid the + gendarmes; an old woman, finally, Mrs. Courtois, who has been belated by + an accident. All his precautions were well chosen; but Providence was + watching.” + </p> + <p> + “O Providence!” growled Dr. Seignebos,—“Providence!” + </p> + <p> + But M. Galpin did not even hear the interruption. Speaking faster and + faster, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Would it at least be possible to plead in behalf of M. de Boiscoran a + difference in time? No. At what time was he seen to come to this place? At + nightfall. ‘It was half-past eight,’ says Ribot, ‘when M. de Boiscoran + crossed the canal at the Seille swamps.’ He might, therefore, have easily + reached Valpinson at half-past nine. At that hour the crime had not yet + been committed. When was he seen returning home? Gaudry and the woman + Courtois have told you the hour,—after eleven o’clock. At that time + Count Claudieuse had been shot, and Valpinson was on fire. Do we know any + thing of M. de Boiscoran’s temper at that time? Yes, we do. When he came + this way he was quite cool. He is very much surprised at meeting Ribot; + but he explains to him very fully how he happens to be at that place, and + also why he has a gun. + </p> + <p> + “He says he is on his way to meet somebody at Brechy, and he thought he + would shoot some birds. Is that admissible? Is it even likely? However, + let us look at him on his way back. Gaudry says he was walking very fast: + he seemed to be furious, and was pulling handfuls of leaves from the + branches. What does Mrs. Courtois say? Nothing. When she calls him, he + does not venture to run; that would have been a confession, but he is in a + great hurry to help her. And then? His way for a quarter of an hour is the + same as the woman’s: does he keep her company? No. He leaves her hastily. + He goes ahead, and hurries home; for he thinks Count Claudieuse is dead; + he knows Valpinson is in flames; and he fears he will hear the bells ring, + and see the fire raging.” + </p> + <p> + It is not often that magistrates allow themselves such familiarity; for + judges, and even lawyers, generally fancy they are too high above common + mortals, on such occasions, to explain their views, to state their + impressions, and to ask, as it were, for advice. Still, when the inquiry + is only begun, there are, properly speaking, no fixed rules prescribed. As + soon as a crime has been reported to a French magistrate, he is at liberty + to do any thing he chooses in order to discover the guilty one. Absolutely + master of the case, responsible only to his conscience, and endowed with + extraordinary powers, he proceeds as he thinks best. But, in this affair + at Valpinson, M. Galpin had been carried away by the rapidity of the + events themselves. Since the first question addressed to Cocoleu, up to + the present moment, he had not had time to consider. And his proceedings + had been public; thus he felt naturally tempted to explain them. + </p> + <p> + “And you call this a legal inquiry?” asked Dr. Seignebos. + </p> + <p> + He had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them furiously. + </p> + <p> + “An inquiry founded upon what?” he went on with such vehemence that no one + dared interrupt him,—“founded upon the evidence of an unfortunate + creature, whom I, a physician, testify to be not responsible for what he + says. Reason does not go out and become lighted again, like the gas in a + street-lamp. A man is an idiot, or he is not an idiot. He has always been + one; and he always will be one. But you say the other statements are + conclusive. Say, rather, that you think they are. Why? Because you are + prejudiced by Cocoleu’s accusation. But for it, you would never have + troubled yourselves about what M. De Boiscoran did, or did not. He walked + about the whole evening. He has a right to do so. He crossed the marsh. + What hindered him? He went through the woods. Why should he not? He is met + with by people. Is not that quite natural? But no: an idiot accuses him, + and forthwith all he does looks suspicious. He talks. It is the insolence + of a hardened criminal. He is silent. It is the remorse of a guilty man + trembling with fear. Instead of naming M. de Boiscoran, Cocoleu might just + as well have named me, Dr. Seignebos. At once, all my doings would have + appeared suspicious; and I am quite sure a thousand evidences of my guilt + would have been discovered. It would have been an easy matter. Are not my + opinions more radical even than those of M. de Boiscoran? For there is the + key to the whole matter. M. de Boiscoran is a Republican; M. de Boiscoran + acknowledges no sovereignty but that of the people”— + </p> + <p> + “Doctor,” broke in the commonwealth attorney,—“doctor, you are not + thinking of what you say.” + </p> + <p> + “I do think of it, I assure you”— + </p> + <p> + But he was once more interrupted, and this time by Count Claudieuse, who + said,— + </p> + <p> + “For my part, I admit all the arguments brought up by the magistrate. But, + above all probabilities, I put a fact,—the character of the accused. + M. de Boiscoran is a man of honor and an excellent man. He is incapable of + committing a mean and odious crime.” + </p> + <p> + The others assented. M. Seneschal added,— + </p> + <p> + “And I, I will tell you another thing. What would have been the purpose of + such a crime? Ah, if M. de Boiscoran had nothing to lose! But do you know + among all your friends a happier man than he is?—young, handsome, in + excellent health, immensely wealthy, esteemed and popular with everybody. + Finally, there is another fact, which is a family secret, but which I may + tell you, and which will remove at once all suspicions,—M. de + Boiscoran is desperately in love with Miss Dionysia de Chandore. She + returns his love; and the day before yesterday the wedding-day was fixed + on the 20th of the next month.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the hours had sped on. It was half-past three by the clock + of the church in Brechy. Day was breaking; and the light of the lamps was + turning pale. The morning mists began to disappear; and the sunlight fell + upon the window-panes. But no one noticed this: all these men gathered + around the bed of the wounded man were too deeply excited. M. Galpin had + listened to the objection made by the others, without a word or a gesture. + He had so far recovered his self-control, that it would have been + difficult to see what impressions they made upon his mind. At last, + shaking his head gravely, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “More than you, gentlemen, I feel a desire to believe M. de Boiscoran + innocent. M. Daubigeon, who knows what I mean, will tell you so. In my + heart I pleaded his cause long before you. But I am the representative of + the law; and my duty is above my affections. Does it depend on me to set + aside Cocoleu’s accusation, however stupid, however absurd, it may be? Can + I undo the three statements made by the witnesses, and confirming so + strongly the suspicions aroused by the first charge?” + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse was distressed beyond expression. At last he said,— + </p> + <p> + “The worst thing about it is, that M. de Boiscoran thinks I am his enemy. + I should not wonder if he went and imagined that these charges and vile + suspicions have been suggested by my wife or by myself. If I could only + get up! At least, let M. de Boiscoran know distinctly that I am ready to + answer for him, as I would answer for myself. Cocoleu, the wretched idiot! + Ah, Genevieve, my darling wife! Why did you induce him to talk? If you had + not insisted, he would have kept silent forever.” + </p> + <p> + The countess succumbed at last to the anxieties of this terrible night. At + first she had been supported by that exaltation which is apt to accompany + a great crisis; but latterly she had felt exhausted. She had sunk upon a + stool, near the bed on which her two daughters were lying; and, her head + hid in the pillow, she seemed to sleep. But she was not asleep. When her + husband reproached her thus, she rose, pale, with swollen eyes and + distorted features, and said in a piercing voice,— + </p> + <p> + “What? They have tried to kill my Trivulce; our children have been near + unto death in the flames; and I should have allowed any means to be unused + by which the guilty one may be found out? No! I have only done what it was + my duty to do. Whatever may come of it, I regret nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Genevieve, M. de Boiscoran is not guilty: he cannot possibly be + guilty. How could a man who has the happiness of being loved by Dionysia + de Chandore, and who counts the days to his wedding,—how could he + devise such a hideous crime?” + </p> + <p> + “Let him prove his innocence,” replied the countess mercilessly. + </p> + <p> + The doctor smacked his lips in the most impertinent manner. + </p> + <p> + “There is a woman’s logic for you,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said M. Seneschal, “M. de Boiscoran’s innocence will be + promptly established. Nevertheless, the suspicion will remain. And our + people are so constituted, that this suspicion will overshadow his whole + life. Twenty years hence, they will meet him, and they will say, ‘Oh, yes! + the man who set Valpinson on fire!’” + </p> + <p> + It was not M. Galpin this time who replied, but the commonwealth attorney. + He said sadly,— + </p> + <p> + “I cannot share your views; but that does not matter. After what has + passed, our friend, M. Galpin cannot retrace his steps: his duty makes + that impossible, and, even more so, what is due to the accused. What would + all these people say, who have heard Cocoleu’s deposition, and the + evidence given by the witnesses, if the inquiry were stopped? They would + certainly say M. de Boiscoran was guilty, but that he was not held + responsible because he was rich and noble. Upon my honor I believe him to + be innocent. But precisely because this is my conviction, I maintain that + his innocence must be clearly established. No doubt he has the means of + doing so. When he met Ribot, he told him he was on his way to see somebody + at Brechy.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose he never went there?” objected M. Seneschal. “Suppose he did + not see anybody there? Suppose it was only a pretext to satisfy Ribot’s + impertinent curiosity?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, he would only have to tell the truth in court. And look! + Here’s an important proof which almost by itself relieves M. de Boiscoran. + Would he not have loaded his gun with a ball, if he should ever have + really thought of murdering the count? But it was loaded with nothing but + small-shot.” + </p> + <p> + “And he would never have missed me at ten yards’ distance,” said the + count. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly somebody was heard knocking furiously at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” cried M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and three peasants appeared, looking bewildered, but + evidently well pleased. + </p> + <p> + “We have just,” said one of them, “found something curious.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + “It looks very much like a case; but Pitard says it is the paper of a + cartridge.” + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse raised himself on his pillows, and said eagerly,— + </p> + <p> + “Let me see! I have during these last days fired several times quite near + to the house to frighten the birds away that eat my fruit. I want to see + if the paper is mine.” + </p> + <p> + The peasant gave it to him. + </p> + <p> + It was a very thin lead form, such as contain the cartridges used in + American breech-loading guns. What was singular was that it was blackened + by burnt powder; but it had not been torn, nor had it blazed up in the + discharge. It was so perfectly uninjured, that one could read the embossed + letters of the name of the manufacturer, Clebb. + </p> + <p> + “That cartridge never belonged to me,” said the count. + </p> + <p> + But as he uttered these words he turned deadly pale, so pale, that his + wife came close to him, and looked at him with a glance full of terrible + anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + But at that moment such silence was so eloquent, that the countess felt + sickened, and whispered to him,— + </p> + <p> + “Then Cocoleu was right, after all!” + </p> + <p> + Not one feature of this dramatic scene had escaped M. Galpin’s eye. He had + seen on every face signs of a kind of terror; still he made no remark. He + took the metal case from the count’s hands, knowing that it might become + an important piece of evidence; and for nearly a minute he turned it round + and round, looking at it from all sides, and examining it in the light + with the utmost attention. + </p> + <p> + Then turning to the peasants, who were standing respectfully and uncovered + close by the door, he asked them,— + </p> + <p> + “Where did you find this cartridge, my friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Close by the old tower, where they keep the tools, and where the ivy is + growing all over the old castle.” + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal had in the meantime succeeded in recovering his self-control, + and said now,— + </p> + <p> + “Surely the murderer cannot have fired from there. You cannot even see the + door of the house from the old tower.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be,” replied the magistrate; “but the cartridge-case does not + necessarily fall to the ground at the place where the gun is discharged. + It falls as soon as the gun is cocked to reload.” + </p> + <p> + This was so true, that even Dr. Seignebos had nothing to say. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my friends,” said M. Galpin, “which of you has found the + cartridge-case?” + </p> + <p> + “We were all together when we saw it, and picked it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, all three of you must give me your names and your domicile, + so that I can send for you when you are wanted.” + </p> + <p> + This was done; and, when all formalities were attended to, they went off + with numberless bows and doffings of hats. Just at that moment the furious + gallop of a horse was heard approaching the house; the next moment the man + who had been sent to Sauveterre for medicines came in. He was furious. + </p> + <p> + “That rascal of a druggist!” he said. “I thought he would never open his + shop!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos had eagerly seized the things that were sent him, then, + bowing with mock respect to the magistrate, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I know very well, sir, how pressing the necessity is to have the head of + the culprit cut off; but I think it is almost as pressing to save the life + of the murdered man. I have probably delayed the binding up of the count’s + wounds longer than I ought to have done; and I beg you will now leave me + alone, so as to enable me to do my duty to him.” + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing more to be done for the magistrate, the commonwealth + attorney, or the mayor. The doctor might assuredly have used more polite + language; but people were accustomed to his brutal ways; for it is + surprising with what readiness men are tolerated in France, under the + pretext that they are as they are, and that they must be taken as they + are. The three gentlemen, therefore, left the room, after having bid + farewell to the countess, and after having promised to send the count news + of all that might be discovered. + </p> + <p> + The fire was going out for want of fuel. A few hours had sufficed to + destroy all that the hard work and incessant cares of many years had + accomplished. This charming and much envied estate presented now nothing + but a few half calcined walls, heaps of black and gray ashes, and still + glowing timbers, from which columns of smoke were slowly rising upward. + Thanks to Capt. Parenteau, all that they had been able to save had been + carried to a distance, and safely stored away under the shelter of the + ruins of the old castle. There, furniture and other articles were piled up + pell-mell. There, carts and agricultural machines were standing about, + empty casks, and sacks of oats and rye. There, also, the cattle were + gathered, that had been drawn from their stalls with infinite labor, and + at great risk of life,—horses, oxen, some sheep, and a dozen cows, + who lowed piteously. Few of the people had left as yet. With greater zeal + than ever the firemen, aided by the peasants, deluged the remains of the + dwelling-house with water. They had nothing to fear from the fire; but + they desired to keep the bodies of their unfortunate companions from being + entirely consumed. + </p> + <p> + “What a terrible scourge fire is!” said M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + Neither M. Galpin nor the mayor made any answer. They also felt their + hearts oppressed by the sad sight before them, in spite of all the intense + excitement before; for a fire is nothing as long as the feverish + excitement, and the hope of saving something, continue to keep us up, and + as long as the red flames illumine the horizon; but the next day, when all + is over, then we realize the extent of the misfortune. + </p> + <p> + The firemen recognized the mayor, and greeted him with cheers. He went + rapidly towards them; and, for the first time since the alarm had been + raised, the magistrate and the attorney were alone. They were standing + close by each other, and for a moment kept silent, while each one tried to + read in the other’s eyes the secret of his thoughts. At last M. Daubigeon + asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin trembled. + </p> + <p> + “This is a fearful calamity,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What is your opinion?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! do I know it myself? I have lost my head: the whole thing looks to me + like a nightmare.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot really believe that M. de Boiscoran is guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe nothing. My reason tells me he is innocent. I feel he must be + innocent; and yet I see terrible evidence rising against him.” + </p> + <p> + The attorney was overwhelmed. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” he said, “why did you, contrary to everybody’s opinion, insist + upon examining Cocoleu, a poor idiotic wretch?” + </p> + <p> + But the magistrate remonstrated— + </p> + <p> + “You do not mean to reproach me, sir, for having followed the impulses of + my conscience?” + </p> + <p> + “I reproach you for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “A horrible crime has been committed; and my duty compelled me to do all + that lies in the power of man to discover the culprit.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and the man who is accused of the crime is your friend, and only + yesterday you spoke of his friendship as your best chance of success in + life.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you surprised to find me so well informed? Ah, you do not know that + nothing escapes the idle curiosity of a village. I know that your dearest + hope was to become a member of M. de Boiscoran’s family, and that you + counted upon him to back you in your efforts to obtain the hand of one of + his cousins.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not deny that.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, you have been tempted by the prestige you might gain in a + great and famous trial. You have laid aside all prudence; and your + projects are forgotten. Whether M. de Boiscoran is innocent or guilty, his + family will never forgive you your interference. If he is guilty, they + will blame you for having handed him over to justice: if he is innocent, + they will blame you even more for having suspected him.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin hung his head as if to conceal his trouble. Then he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “And what would you do in my place?” + </p> + <p> + “I would withdraw from the case, although it is rather late.” + </p> + <p> + “If I did so, I should risk my career.” + </p> + <p> + “Even that would be better for you than to engage in an affair in which + you cannot feel the calmness nor the impartiality which are the first and + indispensable virtues of an upright magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + The latter was becoming impatient. He exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, do you think I am a man to be turned aside from my duty by + considerations of friendship or personal interest?” + </p> + <p> + “I said nothing of the kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not see just now how I carried on the inquiry? Did you see me + start when Cocoleu first mentioned M. de Boiscoran’s name? If he had + denounced any one else, I should probably have let the matter rest there. + But precisely because M. de Boiscoran is a friend of mine, and because I + have great expectations from him, I have insisted and persisted, and I do + so still.” + </p> + <p> + The commonwealth attorney shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “That is it exactly,” he said. “Because M. de Boiscoran is a friend of + yours, you are afraid of being accused of weakness; and you are going to + be hard, pitiless, unjust even, against him. Because you had great + expectations from him, you will insist upon finding him guilty. And you + call yourself impartial?” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin assumed all his usual rigidity, and said solemnly,— + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of myself!” + </p> + <p> + “Have a care!” + </p> + <p> + “My mind is made up, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was time for M. Seneschal to join them again: he returned, accompanied + by Capt. Parenteau. + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen,” he asked, “what have you resolved?” + </p> + <p> + “We are going to Boiscoran,” replied the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “What! Immediately?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes: I wish to find M. de Boiscoran in bed. I am so anxious about it, + that I shall do without my clerk.” + </p> + <p> + Capt. Parenteau bowed, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Your clerk is here, sir: he was but just inquiring for you.” Thereupon he + called out as loud as he could,— + </p> + <p> + “Mechinet, Mechinet!” + </p> + <p> + A small gray-haired man, jovial and cheerful, came running up, and at once + proceeded to tell at full length how a neighbor had told him what had + happened, and how the magistrate had left town, whereupon he, also, had + started on foot, and come after him as fast as he could. + </p> + <p> + “Now will you go to Boiscoran?” asked the mayor. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know yet. Mechinet will have to look for some conveyance.” + </p> + <p> + Quick like lightning, the clerk was starting off, when M. Seneschal held + him back, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Don’t go. I place my horse and my carriage at your disposal. Any one of + these peasants can drive you. Capt. Parenteau and I will get into some + farmer’s wagon, and thus get back to Sauveterre; for we ought to be back + as soon as possible. I have just heard alarming news. There may be some + disorder. The peasant-women who attend the market have brought in most + exciting reports, and exaggerated the calamities of last night. They have + started reports that ten or twelve men have been killed, and that the + incendiary, M. de Boiscoran, has been arrested. The crowd has gone to poor + Guillebault’s widow; and there have been demonstrations before the houses + of several of the principal inhabitants of Sauveterre.” + </p> + <p> + In ordinary times, M. Seneschal would not have intrusted his famous horse, + Caraby, for any thing in the world, to the hands of a stranger. He + considered it the best horse in the province. But he was evidently + terribly upset, and betrayed it in his manner, and by the very efforts he + made to regain his official dignity and self-possession. + </p> + <p> + He made a sign, and his carriage was brought up, all ready. But, when he + asked for somebody to drive, no one came forward. All these good people + who had spent the night abroad were in great haste to return home, where + their cattle required their presence. When young Ribot saw the others + hesitate, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ll drive the justice.” + </p> + <p> + And, taking hold of the whip and the reins, he took his seat on the + front-bench, while the magistrate, the commonwealth attorney, and the + clerk filled the vehicle. + </p> + <p> + “Above all, take care of Caraby,” begged M. Seneschal, who at the last + moment felt almost overcome with anxiety for his favorite. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid, sir,” replied the young man, as he started the horse. + “If I strike too hard, M. Mechinet will stop me.” + </p> + <p> + This Mechinet, the magistrate’s clerk, was almost a power in Sauveterre; + and the greatest personages there paid their court to him. His official + duties were of very humble nature, and ill paid; but he knew how to eke + out his income by other occupations, of which the court took no notice; + and these added largely both to his importance in the community and to his + modest income. + </p> + <p> + As he was a skilful lithographer, he printed all the visiting-cards which + the people of Sauveterre ordered at the principal printing-office of + Sauveterre, where “The Independent” was published. An able accountant, he + kept books and made up accounts for some of the principal merchants in + town. Some of the country people who were fond of litigation came to him + for legal advice; and he drew up all kinds of law papers. For many years + now, he had been director of the firemen’s band, and manager of the + Orpheon. He was a correspondent of certain Paris societies, and thus + obtained free admission to the theatre not only, but also to the sacred + precincts behind the scenes. Finally he was always ready to give + writing-lessons, French lessons to little girls, or music-lessons on the + flute and the horn, to amateurs. + </p> + <p> + These varied talents had drawn upon him the hostility of all the other + teachers and public servants of the community, especially that of the + mayor’s clerk, and the clerks of the bank and great institutions of + Sauveterre. But all these enemies he had gradually conquered by the + unmistakable superiority of his ability; so that they fell in with the + universal habit, and, when any thing special happened, said to each other,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us go and consult Mechinet.” + </p> + <p> + He himself concealed, under an appearance of imperturbable good nature, + the ambition by which he was devoured: he wanted to become rich, and to + rise in the world. In fact, Mechinet was a diplomat, working in secret, + but as cunning as Talleyrand. He had succeeded already in making himself + the one great personage of Sauveterre. The town was full of him; nothing + was done without him; and yet he had not an enemy in the place. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, people were afraid of him, and dreaded his terrible tongue. + Not that he had ever injured anybody, he was too wise for that; but they + knew the harm he might do, if he chose, as he was master of every + important secret in Sauveterre, and the best informed man in town as + regarded all their little intrigues, their private foibles, and their dark + antecedents. + </p> + <p> + This gave him quite an exceptional position. As he was unmarried, he lived + with his sisters, the Misses Mechinet, who were the best dressmakers in + town, and, moreover, devout members of all kinds of religious societies. + Through them he heard all that was going on in society, and was able to + compare the current gossip with what he heard in court, or at the + newspaper office. Thus he could say pleasantly,— + </p> + <p> + “How could any thing escape me, when I have the church and the press, the + court and the theatre, to keep me informed?” + </p> + <p> + Such a man would have considered himself disgraced if he had not known + every detail of M. de Boiscoran’s private affairs. He did not hesitate, + therefore, while the carriage was rolling along on an excellent road, in + the fresh spring morning, to explain to his companions the “case,” as he + called it, of the accused nobleman. + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran, called Jacques by his friends, was rarely on his estate, + and then only staid a month or so there. He was living in Paris, where his + family owned a comfortable house in University Street. His parents were + still alive. + </p> + <p> + His father, the Marquis de Boiscoran, the owner of a large landed estate, + a deputy under Louis Philippe, a representative in 1848, had withdrawn + from public life when the Second Empire was established, and spent, since + that time, all his money, and all his energies, in collecting rare old + books, and especially costly porcelain, on which he had written a + monograph. + </p> + <p> + His mother, a Chalusse by birth, had enjoyed the reputation of being one + of the most beautiful and most gifted ladies at the court of the Citizen + King. At a certain period in her life, unfortunately, slander had attacked + her; and about 1845 or 1846, it was reported that she had had a remarkable + affair with a young lawyer of distinction, who had since become one of the + austerest and most renowned judges. As she grew old, the marchioness + devoted herself more and more to politics, as other women become pious. + While her husband boasted that he had not read a newspaper for ten years, + she had made her <i>salon</i> a kind of parliamentary centre, which had + its influence on political affairs. + </p> + <p> + Although Jacques de Boiscoran’s parents were still alive, he possessed a + considerable fortune of his own—five or six thousand dollars a year. + This fortune, which consisted of the Chateau of Boiscoran, the farms, + meadows, and forests belonging to it, had been left to him by one of his + uncles, the oldest brother of his father, who had died a widower, and + childless, in 1868. M. de Boiscoran was at this moment about twenty-six or + twenty-seven years old, dark complexion, tall, strong, well made, not + exactly a handsome man, but having, what was worth more, one of those + frank, intelligent faces which prepossess one at first sight. + </p> + <p> + His character was less well known at Sauveterre than his person. Those who + had had any business with him described him as an honorable, upright man: + his companions spoke of him as cheerful and gay, fond of pleasure, and + always in good humor. At the time of the Prussian invasion, he had been + made a captain of one of the volunteer companies of the district. He had + led his men bravely under fire, and conducted himself so well on the + battlefield, that Gen. Chanzy had rewarded him, when wounded, with the + cross of the legion of honor. + </p> + <p> + “And such a man should have committed such a crime at Valpinson,” said M. + Daubigeon to the magistrate. “No, it is impossible! And no doubt he will + very easily scatter all our doubts to the four winds.” + </p> + <p> + “And that will be done at once,” said young Ribot; “for here we are.” + </p> + <p> + In many of the provinces of France the name of <i>chateau</i> is given to + almost any little country-house with a weathercock on its pointed roof. + But Boiscoran was a real chateau. It had been built towards the end of the + seventeenth century, in wretched taste, but massively, like a fortress. + Its position is superb. It is surrounded on all sides by woods and + forests; and at the foot of the sloping garden flows a little river, + merrily splashing over its pebbly bed, and called the Magpie on account of + its perpetual babbling. + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + It was seven o’clock when the carriage containing the justice drove into + the courtyard at Boiscoran,—a vast court, planted with lime-trees, + and surrounded by farm buildings. The chateau was wide awake. Before her + house-door, the farmer’s wife was cleaning the huge caldron in which she + had prepared the morning soup; the maids were going and coming; and at the + stable a groom was rubbing down with great energy a thorough-bred horse. + </p> + <p> + On the front-steps stood Master Anthony, M. de Boiscoran’s own man, + smoking his cigar in the bright sunlight, and overlooking the farm + operations. He was a man of nearly fifty, still very active, who had been + bequeathed to his new master by his uncle, together with his possessions. + He was a widower now; and his daughter was in the marchioness’ service. + </p> + <p> + As he had been born in the family, and never left it afterwards, he looked + upon himself as one of them, and saw no difference between his own + interests and those of his master. In fact, he was treated less like a + servant than like a friend; and he fancied he knew every thing about M. de + Boiscoran’s affairs. + </p> + <p> + When he saw the magistrate and the commonwealth attorney come up to the + door, he threw away his cigar, came down quickly, and, bowing deeply, said + to them with his most engaging smile,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, gentlemen! What a pleasant surprise! My master will be delighted.” + </p> + <p> + With strangers, Anthony would not have allowed himself such familiarity, + for he was very formal; but he had seen M. Daubigeon more than once at the + chateau; and he knew the plans that had been discussed between M. Galpin + and his master. Hence he was not a little amazed at the embarrassed + stiffness of the two gentlemen, and at the tone of voice in which the + magistrate asked him,— + </p> + <p> + “Has M. de Boiscoran gotten up yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” he replied; “and I have orders not to wake him. He came home + late last night, and wanted to make up this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Instinctively the magistrate and the attorney looked away, each fearing to + meet the other’s eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! M. de Boiscoran came home late last night?” repeated M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + “Towards midnight, rather after midnight than before.” + </p> + <p> + “And when had he gone out?” + </p> + <p> + “He left here about eight.” + </p> + <p> + “How was he dressed?” + </p> + <p> + “As usually. He had light gray trousers, a shooting-jacket of brown + velveteen, and a large straw hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he take his gun?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where he went?” + </p> + <p> + But for the respect which he felt for his master’s friends, Anthony would + not have answered these questions, which he thought were extremely + impertinent. But this last question seemed to him to go beyond all fair + limits. He replied, therefore, in a tone of injured self-respect,— + </p> + <p> + “I am not in the habit of asking my master where he goes when he leaves + the house, nor where he has been when he comes back.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon understood perfectly well the honorable feelings which + actuated the faithful servant. He said to him with an air of unmistakable + kindness,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not imagine, my friend, that I ask you these questions from idle + curiosity. Tell me what you know; for your frankness may be more useful to + your master than you imagine.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony looked with an air of perfect stupefaction, by turns at the + magistrate and the commonwealth attorney, at Mechinet, and finally at + Ribot, who had taken the lines, and tied Caraby to a tree. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, gentlemen, I do not know where M. de Boiscoran has spent + the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “You have no suspicion?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he went to Brechy to see a friend?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know that he has any friends in Brechy.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he do after he came home?” + </p> + <p> + The old servant showed evident signs of embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Let me think,” he said. “My master went up to his bedroom, and remained + there four or five minutes. Then he came down, ate a piece of a pie, and + drank a glass of wine. Then he lit a cigar, and told me to go to bed, + adding that he would take a little walk, and undress without my help.” + </p> + <p> + “And then you went to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “So that you do not know what your master may have done?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. I heard him open the garden door.” + </p> + <p> + “He did not appear to you different from usual?” + </p> + <p> + “No: he was as he always is,—quite cheerful: he was singing.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you show me the gun he took with him?” + </p> + <p> + “No. My master probably took it to his room.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon was about to make a remark, when the magistrate stopped him + by a gesture, and eagerly asked,— + </p> + <p> + “How long is it since your master and Count Claudieuse have ceased seeing + each other?” + </p> + <p> + Anthony trembled, as if a dark presentiment had entered his mind. He + replied,— + </p> + <p> + “A long time: at least I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “You are aware that they are on bad terms?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “They have had great difficulties between them?” + </p> + <p> + “Something unpleasant has happened, I know; but it was not much. As they + do not visit each other, they cannot well hate each other. Besides, I have + heard master say a hundred times, that he looked upon Count Claudieuse as + one of the best and most honorable men; that he respected him highly, and”— + </p> + <p> + For a minute or so M. Galpin kept silent, thinking whether he had + forgotten any thing. Then he asked suddenly,— + </p> + <p> + “How far is it from here to Valpinson?” + </p> + <p> + “Three miles, sir,” replied Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “If you were going there, what road would you take?” + </p> + <p> + “The high road which passes Brechy.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not go across the marsh?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the Seille is out of its banks, and the ditches are full of + water.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not the way much shorter through the forest?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the way is shorter; but it would take more time. The paths are very + indistinct, and overgrown with briers.” + </p> + <p> + The commonwealth attorney could hardly conceal his disappointment. + Anthony’s answers seemed to become worse and worse. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the magistrate again, “if fire should break out at Valpinson, + would you see it from here?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not, sir. There are hills and tall woods between.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you hear the Brechy bells from here?” + </p> + <p> + “When the wind is north, yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And last night, how was it?” + </p> + <p> + “The wind was from the west, as it always is when we have a storm.” + </p> + <p> + “So that you have heard nothing? You do not know what a terrible calamity”— + </p> + <p> + “A calamity? I do not understand you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + This conversation had taken place in the court-yard: and at this moment + there appeared two gendarmes on horseback, whom M. Galpin had sent for + just before he left Valpinson. + </p> + <p> + When old Anthony saw them, he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Great God! what is the meaning of this? I must wake master.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate stopped him, saying harshly,— + </p> + <p> + “Not a step! Don’t say a word!” + </p> + <p> + And pointing out Ribot to the gendarmes, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Keep that lad under your eyes, and let him have no communication with + anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning again to Anthony, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Now show us to M. de Boiscoran’s bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + In spite of its grand feudal air, the chateau at Boiscoran was, after all, + little more than a bachelor’s modest home, and in a very bad state of + preservation. Of the eighty or a hundred rooms which it contained, hardly + more than eight or ten were furnished, and this only in the simplest + possible manner,—a sitting-room, a dining-room, a few + guest-chambers: this was all M. de Boiscoran required during his rare + visits to the place. He himself used in the second story a small room, the + door of which opened upon the great staircase. + </p> + <p> + When they reached this door, guided by old Anthony, the magistrate said to + the servant,— + </p> + <p> + “Knock!” + </p> + <p> + The man obeyed: and immediately a youthful, hearty voice replied from + within,— + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I,” said the faithful servant. “I should like”— + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil!” broke in the voice. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir”— + </p> + <p> + “Let me sleep, rascal. I have not been able to close an eye till now.” The + magistrate, becoming impatient, pushed the servant aside, and, seizing the + door-knob tried to open it; it was locked inside. But he lost no time in + saying,— + </p> + <p> + “It is I, M. de Boiscoran: open, if you please!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear M. Galpin!” replied the voice cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “I must speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am at your service, illustrious jurist. Just give me time to veil + my Apollonian form in a pair of trousers, and I appear.” + </p> + <p> + Almost immediately, the door opened; and M. de Boiscoran presented + himself, his hair dishevelled, his eyes heavy with sleep, but looking + bright in his youth and full health, with smiling lips and open hands. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word!” he said. “That was a happy inspiration you had, my dear + Galpin. You come to join me at breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + And, bowing to M. Daubigeon, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Not to say how much I thank you for bringing our excellent commonwealth + attorney with you. This is a veritable judicial visit”— + </p> + <p> + But he paused, chilled as he was by M. Daubigeon’s icy face, and amazed at + M. Galpin’s refusal to take his proffered hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” he said, “what is the matter, my dear friend?” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate had never been stiffer in his life, when he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “We shall have to forget our relations, sir. It is not as a friend I come + to-day, but as a magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran looked confounded; but not a shadow of trouble appeared on + his frank and open face. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be hanged,” he said, “if I understand”— + </p> + <p> + “Let us go in,” said M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + They went in; and, as they passed the door, Mechinet whispered into the + attorney’s ear,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, that man is certainly innocent. A guilty man would never have + received us thus.” + </p> + <p> + “Silence, sir!” said the commonwealth attorney, however much he was + probably of his clerk’s opinion. “Silence!” + </p> + <p> + And grave and sad he went and stood in one of the window embrasures. M. + Galpin remained standing in the centre of the room, trying to see every + thing in it, and to fix it in his memory, down to the smallest details. + The prevailing disorder showed clearly how hastily M. de Boiscoran had + gone to bed the night before. His clothes, his boots, his shirt, his + waistcoat, and his straw hat lay scattered about on the chairs and on the + floor. He wore those light gray trousers, which had been succcessively + seen and recognized by Cocoleu, by Ribot, by Gaudry, and by Mrs. Courtois. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir,” began M. de Boiscoran, with that slight angry tone of voice + which shows that a man thinks a joke has been carried far enough, “will + you please tell me what procures for me the honor of this early visit?” + </p> + <p> + Not a muscle in M. Galpin’s face was moving. As if the question had been + addressed to some one else, he said coldly,— + </p> + <p> + “Will you please show us your hands, sir?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran’s cheeks turned crimson; and his eyes assumed an + expression of strange perplexity. + </p> + <p> + “If this is a joke,” he said, “it has perhaps lasted long enough.” + </p> + <p> + He was evidently getting angry. M. Daubigeon thought it better to + interfere, and thus he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, sir, the question is a most serious one. Do what the + magistrate desires.” + </p> + <p> + More and more amazed, M. de Boiscoran looked rapidly around him. In the + door stood Anthony, his faithful old servant, with anguish on his face. + Near the fireplace, the clerk had improvised a table, and put his paper, + his pens, and his horn inkstand in readiness. Then with a shrug of his + shoulders, which showed that he failed to understand, M. de Boiscoran + showed his hands. + </p> + <p> + They were perfectly clean and white: the long nails were carefully cleaned + also. + </p> + <p> + “When did you last wash your hands?” asked M. Galpin, after having + examined them minutely. + </p> + <p> + At this question, M. de Boiscoran’s face brightened up; and, breaking out + into a hearty laugh, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word! I confess you nearly caught me. I was on the point of + getting angry. I almost feared”— + </p> + <p> + “And there was good reason for fear,” said M. Galpin; “for a terrible + charge has been brought against you. And it may be, that on your answer to + my question, ridiculous as it seems to you, your honor may depend, and + perhaps your liberty.” + </p> + <p> + This time there was no mistake possible. M. de Boiscoran felt that kind of + terror which the law inspires even in the best of men, when they find + themselves suddenly accused of a crime. He turned pale, and then he said + in a troubled voice,— + </p> + <p> + “What! A charge has been brought against me, and you, M. Galpin, come to + my house to examine me?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a magistrate, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But you were also my friend. If anyone should have dared in my presence + to accuse you of a crime, of a mean act, of something infamous, I should + have defended you, sir, with all my energy, without hesitation, and + without a doubt. I should have defended you till absolute, undeniable + evidence should have been brought forward of your culpability; and even + then I should have pitied you, remembering that I had esteemed you so + highly as to favor your alliance with my family. But you—I am + accused, I do not know of what, falsely, wrongly; and at once you hasten + hither, you believe the charge, and consent to become my judge. Well, let + it be so! I washed my hands last night after coming home.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin had not boasted too much in praising his self-possession and his + perfect control over himself. He did not move when the terrible words fell + upon his ear; and he asked again in the same calm tone,— + </p> + <p> + “What has become of the water you used for that purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “It is probably still there, in my dressing-room.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate at once went in. On the marble table stood a basin full of + water. That water was black and dirty. At the bottom lay particles of + charcoal. On the top, mixed with the soapsuds, were swimming some + extremely slight but unmistakable fragments of charred paper. With + infinite care the magistrate carried the basin to the table at which + Mechinet had taken a seat; and, pointing at it, he asked M. de Boiscoran,— + </p> + <p> + “Is that the water in which you washed your hands last night after coming + home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied the other with an air of careless indifference. + </p> + <p> + “You had been handling charcoal, or some inflammable material.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see?” + </p> + <p> + Standing face to face, the commonwealth attorney and clerk exchanged rapid + glances. They had had the same feeling at that moment. If M. de Boiscoran + was innocent, he was certainly a marvellously cool and energetic man, or + he was carrying out a long-premeditated plan of action; for every one of + his answers seemed to tighten the net in which he was taken. The + magistrate himself seemed to be struck by this; but it was only for a + moment, and then, turning to the clerk, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Write that down!” + </p> + <p> + He dictated to him the whole evidence, most minutely and accurately, + correcting himself every now and then to substitute a better word, or to + improve his style. When he had read it over he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on, sir. You were out last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Having left the house at eight, you returned only around midnight.” + </p> + <p> + “After midnight.” + </p> + <p> + “You took your gun?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is it?” + </p> + <p> + With an air of indifference, M. de Boiscoran pointed at it in the corner + of the fireplace, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “There it is!” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin took it up quickly. It was a superb weapon, double-barrelled, of + unusually fine make, and very elegant. On the beautifully carved woodwork + the manufacturer’s name, Clebb, was engraven. + </p> + <p> + “When did you last fire this gun?” asked the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “Some four or five days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “To shoot some rabbits who infested my woods.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin raised and lowered the cock with all possible care: he noticed + that it was the Remington patent. Then he opened the chamber, and found + that the gun was loaded. Each barrel had a cartridge in it. Then he put + the gun back in its place, and, pulling from his pocket the leaden + cartridge-case which Pitard had found, he showed it to M. de Boiscoran, + and asked him,— + </p> + <p> + “Do you recognize this?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly!” replied the other. “It is a case of one of the cartridges + which I have probably thrown away as useless.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you are the only one in this country who has a gun by this + maker?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think it: I am quite sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “So that you must, as a matter of course, have been at a spot where such a + cartridge-case as this has been found?” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily. I have often seen children pick up these things, and + play with them.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk, while he made his pen fly across his paper, could not resist + the temptation of making all kinds of faces. He was too well acquainted + with lawyers’ tactics not to understand M. Galpin’s policy perfectly well, + and to see how cunningly it was devised to make every fact strengthen the + suspicion against M. de Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + “It is a close game,” he said to himself. + </p> + <p> + The magistrate had taken a seat. + </p> + <p> + “If that is so,” he began again, “I beg you will give me an account of how + you spent the evening after eight o’clock: do not hurry, consider, take + your time; for your answers are of the utmost importance.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran had so far remained quite cool; but his calmness betrayed + one of those terrible storms within, which may break forth, no one knows + when. This warning, and, even more so, the tone in which it was given, + revolted him as a most hideous hypocrisy. And, breaking out all of a + sudden, he cried,— + </p> + <p> + “After all, sir, what do you want of me? What am I accused of?” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin did not stir. He replied,— + </p> + <p> + “You will hear it at the proper time. First answer my question, and + believe me in your own interest. Answer frankly. What did you do last + night?” + </p> + <p> + “How do I know? I walked about.” + </p> + <p> + “That is no answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Still it is so. I went out with no specific purpose: I walked at + haphazard.” + </p> + <p> + “Your gun on your shoulder?” + </p> + <p> + “I always take my gun: my servant can tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you cross the Seille marshes?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate shook his head gravely. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “You are not telling the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Your boots there at the foot of the bed speak against you. Where does the + mud come from with which they are covered?” + </p> + <p> + “The meadows around Boiscoran are very wet.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not attempt to deny it. You have been seen there.” + </p> + <p> + “But”— + </p> + <p> + “Young Ribot met you at the moment when you were crossing the canal.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Where were you going?” asked the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + For the first time a real embarrassment appeared in the features of the + accused,—the embarrassment of a man who suddenly sees an abyss + opening before him. He hesitated; and, seeing that it was useless to deny, + he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I was going to Brechy.” + </p> + <p> + “To whom?” + </p> + <p> + “To my wood-merchant, who has bought all this year’s wood. I did not find + him at home, and came back on the high road.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin stopped him by a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “That is not so,” he said severely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “You never went to Brechy.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “And the proof is, that, about eleven o’clock, you were hurriedly crossing + the forest of Rochepommier.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you! And do not say No; for there are your trousers torn to pieces + by the thorns and briers through which you must have made your way.” + </p> + <p> + “There are briers elsewhere as well as in the forest.” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure; but you were seen there.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “By Gaudry the poacher. And he saw so much of you, that he could tell us + in what a bad humor you were. You were very angry. You were talking loud, + and pulling the leaves from the trees.” + </p> + <p> + As he said so, the magistrate got up and took the shooting-jacket, which + was lying on a chair not far from him. He searched the pockets, and pulled + out of one a handful of leaves. + </p> + <p> + “Look here! you see, Gaudry has told the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “There are leaves everywhere,” said M. de Boiscoran half aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but a woman, Mrs. Courtois, saw you come out of the forest of + Rochepommier. You helped her to put a sack of flour on her ass, which she + could not lift alone. Do you deny it? No, you are right; for, look here! + on the sleeve of your coat I see something white, which, no doubt, is + flour from her bag.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran hung his head. The magistrate went on,— + </p> + <p> + “You confess, then, that last night, between ten and eleven you were at + Valpinson?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “But this cartridge-case which I have just shown you was picked up at + Valpinson, close by the ruins of the old castle.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, have I not told you before that I have seen a hundred times + children pick up these cases to play with? Besides, if I had really been + at Valpinson, why should I deny it?” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin rose to his full height, and said in the most solemn manner,— + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell you why! Last night, between ten and eleven, Valpinson + was set on fire; and it has been burnt to the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Last night Count Claudieuse was fired at twice.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” + </p> + <p> + “And it is thought, in fact there are strong reasons to think, that you, + Jacques de Boiscoran, are the incendiary and the assassin.” + </p> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran looked around him like a man who has suddenly been seized + with vertigo, pale, as if all his blood had rushed to his heart. + </p> + <p> + He saw nothing but mournful, dismayed faces. + </p> + <p> + Anthony, his old trusted servant, was leaning against the doorpost, as if + he feared to fall. The clerk was mending his pen in the air, overcome with + amazement. M. Daubigeon hung his head. + </p> + <p> + “This is horrible!” he murmured: “this is horrible!” + </p> + <p> + He fell heavily into a chair, pressing his hands on his heart, as if to + keep down the sobs that threatened to rise. M. Galpin alone seemed to + remain perfectly cool. The law, which he imagined he was representing in + all its dignity, knows nothing of emotions. His thin lips even trembled a + little, as if a slight smile was about to burst forth: it was the cold + smile of the ambitious man, who thinks he has played his little part well. + </p> + <p> + Did not every thing tend to prove that Jacques de Boiscoran was the guilty + man, and that, in the alternative between a friend, and an opportunity of + gaining high distinction, he had chosen well? After the silence of a + minute, which seemed to be a century, he went and stood, with arms crossed + on his chest, before the accused, and asked him,— + </p> + <p> + “Do you confess?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran sprang up as if moved by a spring, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “What? What do you want me to confess?” + </p> + <p> + “That you have committed the crime at Valpinson.” + </p> + <p> + The young man pressed his hands convulsively on his brow, and cried out,— + </p> + <p> + “But I am mad! I should have committed such a fearful, cowardly crime? Is + that possible? Is that likely? I might confess, and you would not believe + me. No! I am sure you would not believe my own words.” + </p> + <p> + He would have moved the marble on his mantelpiece sooner than M. Galpin. + The latter replied in icy tones,— + </p> + <p> + “I am not part of the question here. Why will you refer to relations which + must be forgotten? It is no longer the friend who speaks to you, not even + the man, but simply the magistrate. You were seen”— + </p> + <p> + “Who is the wretch?” + </p> + <p> + “Cocoleu!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran seemed to be overwhelmed. He stammered,— + </p> + <p> + “Cocoleu? That poor epileptic idiot whom the Countess Claudieuse has + picked up?” + </p> + <p> + “The same.” + </p> + <p> + “And upon the strength of the senseless words of a poor imbecile I am + charged with incendiarism, with murder?” + </p> + <p> + Never had the magistrate made such efforts to assume an air of impassive + dignity and icy solemnity, as when he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “For an hour, at least, poor Cocoleu has been in the full enjoyment of his + faculties. The ways of Providence are inscrutable.” + </p> + <p> + “But sir”— + </p> + <p> + “And what does Cocoleu depose? He says he saw you kindle the fire with + your own hands, then conceal yourself behind a pile of wood, and fire + twice at Count Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + “And all that appears quite natural to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No! At first it shocked me as it shocked everybody. You seem to be far + above all suspicion. But a moment afterwards they pick up the + cartridge-case, which can only have belonged to you. Then, upon my arrival + here, I surprise you in bed, and find the water in which you have washed + your hands black with coal, and little pieces of charred paper swimming on + top of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said M. de Boiscoran in an undertone: “it is fate.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is not all,” continued the magistrate, raising his voice, “I + examine you, and you admit having been out from eight o’clock till after + midnight. I ask what you have been doing, and you refuse to tell me. I + insist, and you tell a falsehood. In order to overwhelm you, I am forced + to quote the evidence of young Ribot, of Gaudry, and Mrs. Courtois, who + have seen you at the very places where you deny having been. That + circumstance alone condemns you. Why should you not be willing to tell me + what you have been doing during those four hours? You claim to be + innocent. Help me, then, to establish your innocence. Speak, tell me what + you were doing between eight and midnight.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran had no time to answer. + </p> + <p> + For some time already, half-suppressed cries, and the sound of a large + crowd, had come up from the courtyard. A gendarme came in quite excited; + and, turning to the magistrate and the commonwealth attorney, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, there are several hundred peasants, men and women, in the + yard, who clamor for M. de Boiscoran. They threaten to drag him down to + the river. Some of the men are armed with pitchforks; but the women are + the maddest. My comrade and I have done our best to keep them quiet.” + </p> + <p> + And just then, as if to confirm what he said, the cries came nearer, + growing louder and louder; and one could distinctly hear,— + </p> + <p> + “Drown Boiscoran! Let us drown the incendiary!” + </p> + <p> + The attorney rose, and told the gendarme,— + </p> + <p> + “Go down and tell these people that the authorities are this moment + examining the accused; that they interrupt us; and that, if they keep on, + they will have to do with me.” + </p> + <p> + The gendarme obeyed his orders. M. de Boiscoran had turned deadly pale. He + said to himself,— + </p> + <p> + “These unfortunate people believe my guilt!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said M. Galpin, who had overheard the words; “and you would + comprehend their rage, for which there is good reason, if you knew all + that has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “What else?” + </p> + <p> + “Two Sauveterre firemen, one the father of five children, have perished in + the flames. Two other men, a farmer from Brechy, and a gendarme who tried + to rescue them, have been so seriously burned that their lives are in + danger.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “And it is you,” continued the magistrate, “who is charged with all these + calamities. You see how important it is for you to exculpate yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how can I?” + </p> + <p> + “If you are innocent, nothing is easier. Tell us how you employed yourself + last night.” + </p> + <p> + “I have told you all I can say.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate seemed to reflect for a full minute; then he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Take care, M. de Boiscoran: I shall have to have you arrested.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be obliged to order your arrest at once, and to send you to jail + in Sauveterre.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you confess?” + </p> + <p> + “I confess that I am the victim of an unheard-of combination of + circumstances; I confess that you are right, and that certain fatalities + can only be explained by the belief in Providence: but I swear by all that + is holy in the world, I am innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! would I not do it if I could?” + </p> + <p> + “Be good enough, then, to dress, sir, and to follow the gendarmes.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word, M. de Boiscoran went into his dressing-room, followed by + his servant, who carried him his clothes. M. Galpin was so busy dictating + to the clerk the latter part of the examination, that he seemed to forget + his prisoner. Old Anthony availed himself of this opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” he whispered into his master’s ear while helping him to put on his + clothes. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! Don’t speak so loud! The other window is open. It is only about + twenty feet to the ground: the ground is soft. Close by is one of the + cellar openings; and in there, you know, there is the old hiding-place. It + is only five miles to the coast, and I will have a good horse ready for + you to-night, at the park-gate.” + </p> + <p> + A bitter smile rose on M. de Boiscoran’s lips, as he said,— + </p> + <p> + “And you too, my old friend: you think I am guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “I conjure you,” said Anthony, “I answer for any thing. It is barely + twenty feet. In your mother’s name”— + </p> + <p> + But, instead of answering him, M. de Boiscoran turned round, and called M. + Galpin. When he had come in, he said to him, “Look at that window, sir! I + have money, fast horses; and the sea is only five miles off. A guilty man + would have escaped. I stay here; for I am innocent.” + </p> + <p> + In one point, at least, M. de Boiscoran had been right. Nothing would have + been easier for him than to escape, to get into the garden, and to reach + the hiding-place which his servant had suggested to him. But after that? + He had, to be sure, with old Anthony’s assistance, some chance of escaping + altogether. But, after all, he might have been found out in his + hiding-place, or he might have been overtaken in his ride to the coast. + Even if he had succeeded, what would have become of him? His flight would + necessarily have been looked upon as a confession of his guilt. + </p> + <p> + Under such circumstances, to resist the temptation to escape, and to make + this resistance well known, was in fact not so much an evidence of + innocence as a proof of great cleverness. M. Galpin, at all events, looked + upon it in that light; for he judged others by himself. Carefully and + cunningly calculating every step he took in life, he did not believe in + sudden inspirations. He said, therefore, with an ironical smile, which was + to show that he was not so easily taken in,— + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir. This circumstance shall be mentioned, as well as the + others, at the trial.” + </p> + <p> + Very differently thought the commonwealth attorney and the clerk. If the + magistrate had been too much engaged in his dictation to notice any thing, + they had been perfectly able to notice the great excitement under which + the accused had naturally labored. Perfectly amazed at first, and + thinking, for a moment, that the whole was a joke, he had next become + furiously angry; then fear and utter dejection had followed one another. + But in precise proportion as the charges had accumulated, and the evidence + had become overwhelming, he had, so far from becoming demoralized, seemed + to recover his assurance. + </p> + <p> + “There is something curious about it,” growled Mechinet. M. Daubigeon, on + the other hand, said nothing; but when M. de Boiscoran came out of his + dressing-room, fully dressed and ready, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “One more question, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The poor man bowed. He was pale, but calm and self-possessed. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to reply,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be brief. You seemed to be surprised and indignant at any one’s + daring to accuse you. That was weakness. Justice is but the work of man, + and must needs judge by appearances. If you reflect, you will see that the + appearances are all against you.” + </p> + <p> + “I see it but too clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “If you were on a jury, you would not hesitate to pronounce a man guilty + upon such evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, no!” + </p> + <p> + The commonwealth attorney bounded from his chair. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “You are not sincere!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran sadly shook his head, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I speak to you without the slightest hope of convincing you, but in all + sincerity. No, I should not condemn a man, as you say, if he asserted his + innocence, and if I did not see any reason for his crime. For, after all, + unless a man is mad, he does not commit a crime for nothing. Now I ask + you, how could I, upon whom fortune has always smiled; I who am on the eve + of marrying one whom I love passionately,—how could I have set + Valpinson on fire, and tried to murder Count Claudieuse?” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin had scarcely been able to disguise his impatience, when he saw + the attorney take part in the affair. Seizing, therefore, the opportunity + to interfere, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Your reason, sir, was hatred. You hated the count and the countess + mortally. Do not protest: it is of no use. Everybody knows it; and you + yourself have told me so.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran looked as if he were growing still more pale, and then + replied in a tone of crushing disdain,— + </p> + <p> + “Even if that were so, I do not see what right you have to abuse the + confidence of a friend, after having declared, upon your arrival here, + that all friendship between us had ceased. But that is not so. I never + told you any such thing. As my feelings have never changed, I can repeat + literally what I have said. I have told you that the count was a + troublesome neighbor, a stickler for his rights, and almost absurdly + attached to his preserves. I have also told you, that, if he declared my + public opinions to be abominable, I looked upon his as ridiculous and + dangerous. As for the countess, I have simply said, half in jest, that so + perfect a person was not to my taste; and that I should be very unhappy if + my wife were a Madonna, who hardly ever deigned to put her foot upon the + ground.” + </p> + <p> + “And that was the only reason why you once pointed your gun at Count + Claudieuse? A little more blood rushing to your head would have made you a + murderer on that day.” + </p> + <p> + A terrible spasm betrayed M. de Boiscoran’s fury; but he checked himself, + and said,— + </p> + <p> + “My passion was less fiery than it may have looked. I have the most + profound respect for the count’s character. It is an additional grief to + me that he should have accused me.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has not accused you!” broke in M. Daubigeon. “On the contrary, he + was the first and the most eager to defend you.” + </p> + <p> + And, in spite of the signs which M. Galpin made, he continued,— + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately that has nothing to do with the force of the evidence + against you. If you persist in keeping silence, you must look for a + criminal trial for the galleys. If you are innocent, why not explain the + matter? What do you wait for? What do you hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Mechinet had, in the meantime, completed the official report. + </p> + <p> + “We must go,” said M. Galpin + </p> + <p> + “Am I at liberty,” asked M. de Boiscoran, “to write a few lines to my + father and my mother? They are old: such an event may kill them.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” said the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to Anthony, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I am going to put the seals on this room, and I shall leave it in the + meanwhile in your keeping. You know your duty, and the penalties to which + you would be subject, if, at the proper time, every thing is not found in + the same condition in which it is left now. Now, how shall we get back to + Sauveterre?” + </p> + <p> + After mature deliberation it was decided that M. de Boiscoran should go in + one of his own carriages, accompanied by one of the gendarmes. M. + Daubigeon, the magistrate, and the clerk would return in the mayor’s + carriage, driven by Ribot, who was furious at being kept under + surveillance. + </p> + <p> + “Let us be off,” said the magistrate, when the last formalities had been + fulfilled. + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran came down slowly. He knew the court was full of furious + peasants; and he expected to be received with hootings. It was not so. The + gendarme whom the attorney had sent down had done his duty so well, that + not a cry was heard. But when he had taken his seat in the carriage, and + the horse went off at a trot, fierce curses arose, and a shower of stones + fell, one of which wounded a gendarme. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, you bring ill luck, prisoner,” said the man, a friend of + the other gendarme who had been so much injured at the fire. + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran made no reply. He sank back into the corner, and seemed to + fall into a kind of stupor, from which he did not rouse himself till the + carriage drove into the yard of the prison at Sauveterre. On the threshold + stood Master Blangin, the jailer, smiling with delight at the idea of + receiving so distinguished a prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to give you my best room,” he said, “but first I have to give + a receipt to the gendarme, and to enter you in my book.” Thereupon he took + down his huge, greasy register, and wrote the name of Jacques de Boiscoran + beneath that of Trumence Cheminot, a vagabond who had just been arrested + for having broken into a garden. + </p> + <p> + It was all over. Jacques de Boiscoran was a prisoner, to be kept in close + confinement. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECOND PART—THE BOISCORAN TRIAL + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + The Paris house of the Boiscoran family, No. 216 University Street, is a + house of modest appearance. The yard in front is small; and the few square + yards of damp soil in the rear hardly deserve the name of a garden. But + appearances are deceptive. The inside is marvellously comfortable; careful + and painstaking hands have made every provision for ease; and the rooms + display that solid splendor for which our age has lost the taste. The + vestibule contains a superb mosaic, brought home from Venice, in 1798, by + one of the Boiscorans, who had degenerated, and followed the fortunes of + Napoleon. The balusters of the great staircase are a masterpiece of iron + work; and the wainscoting in the dining-room has no rival in Paris. + </p> + <p> + All this, however, is a mere nothing in comparison with the marquis’s + cabinet of curiosities. It fills the whole depth, and half the width, of + the upper story; is lighted from above like a huge <i>atelier</i>; and + would fill the heart of an artist with delight. Immense glass cases, which + stand all around against the walls, hold the treasures of the marquis,—priceless + collections of enamels, ivories, bronzes, unique manuscripts, matchless + porcelains, and, above all, his <i>faiences</i>, his dear <i>faiences</i>, + the pride and the torment of his old age. + </p> + <p> + The owner was well worthy of such a setting. + </p> + <p> + Though sixty-one years old at that time, the marquis was as straight as + ever, and most aristocratically lean. He had a perfectly magnificent nose, + which absorbed immense quantities of snuff; his mouth was large, but well + furnished; and his brilliant eyes shone with that restless cunning which + betrayed the amateur, who has continually to deal with sharp and eager + dealers in curiosities and second-hand articles of <i>vertu</i>. + </p> + <p> + In the year 1845 he had reached the summit of his renown by a great speech + on the question of public meetings; but at that hour his watch seemed to + have stopped. All his ideas were those of an Orleanist. His appearance, + his costume, his high cravat, his whiskers, and the way he brushed his + hair, all betrayed the admirer and friend of the citizen king. But for all + that, he did not trouble himself about politics; in fact, he troubled + himself about nothing at all. With the only condition that his inoffensive + passion should be respected, the marchioness was allowed to rule supreme + in the house, administering her large fortune, ruling her only son, and + deciding all questions without the right of appeal. It was perfectly + useless to ask the marquis any thing: his answer was invariably,— + </p> + <p> + “Ask my wife.” + </p> + <p> + The good man had, the evening before, purchased a little at haphazard, a + large lot of <i>faiences</i>, representing scenes of the Revolution; and + at about three o’clock, he was busy, magnifying-glass in hand, examining + his dishes and plates, when the door was suddenly opened. + </p> + <p> + The marchioness came in, holding a blue paper in her hand. Six or seven + years younger than her husband, she was the very companion for such an + idle, indolent man. In her walk, in her manner, and in her voice, she + showed at once the woman who stands at the wheel, and means to be obeyed. + Her once celebrated beauty had left remarkable traces enough to justify + her pretensions. She denied having any claims to being considered + handsome, since it was impossible to deny or conceal the ravages of time, + and hence by far her best policy was to accept old age with good grace. + Still, if the marchioness did not grow younger, she pretended to be older + than she really was. She had her gray hair puffed out with considerable + affectation, so as to contrast all the more forcibly with her ruddy, + blooming cheeks, which a girl might have envied and she often thought of + powdering her hair. + </p> + <p> + She was so painfully excited, and almost undone, when she came into her + husband’s cabinet, that even he, who for many a year had made it a rule of + his life to show no emotion, was seriously troubled. Laying aside the dish + which he was examining, he said with an anxious voice,— + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter? What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + “A terrible misfortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Jacques dead?” cried the old collector. + </p> + <p> + The marchioness shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No! It is something worse, perhaps”— + </p> + <p> + The old man, who has risen at the sight of his wife, sank slowly back into + his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he stammered out,—“tell me. I have courage.” + </p> + <p> + She handed him the blue paper which she had brought in, and said slowly,— + </p> + <p> + “Here. A telegram which I have just received from old Anthony, our son’s + valet.” + </p> + <p> + With trembling hands the old marquis unfolded the paper, and read,— + </p> + <p> + “Terrible misfortune! Master Jacques accused of having set the chateau at + Valpinson on fire, and murdered Count Claudieuse. Terrible evidence + against him. When examined, hardly any defence. Just arrested and carried + to jail. In despair. What must I do?” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness had feared lest the marquis should have been crushed by + this despatch, which in its laconic terms betrayed Anthony’s abject + terror. But it was not so. He put it back on the table in the calmest + manner, and said, shrugging his shoulders,— + </p> + <p> + “It is absurd!” + </p> + <p> + His wife did not understand it. She began again,— + </p> + <p> + “You have not read it carefully, my friend”— + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” he broke in, “that our son is accused of a crime which he + has not and can not have committed. You surely do not doubt his innocence? + What a mother you would be! On my part, I assure you I am perfectly + tranquil. Jacques an incendiary! Jacques a murderer! That is nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you did not read the telegram,” exclaimed the marchioness. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not see that there was evidence against him.” + </p> + <p> + “If there had been none, he could not have been arrested. Of course, the + thing is disagreeable: it is painful.” + </p> + <p> + “But he did not defend himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word! Do you think that if to-morrow somebody accused me of + having robbed the till of some shopkeeper, I would take the trouble to + defend myself?” + </p> + <p> + “But do you not see that Anthony evidently thinks our son is guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “Anthony is an old fool!” declared the marquis. + </p> + <p> + Then pulling out his snuffbox, and stuffing his nose full of snuff, he + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Besides, let us consider. Did you not tell me that Jacques is in love + with that little Dionysia Chandore?” + </p> + <p> + “Desperately. Like a real child.” + </p> + <p> + “And she?” + </p> + <p> + “She adores Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + “Well. And did you not also tell me that the wedding-day was fixed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, three days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Jacques written to you about the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “An excellent letter.” + </p> + <p> + “In which he tells you he is coming up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes: he wanted to purchase the wedding-presents himself.” With a gesture + of magnificent indifference the marquis tapped the top of his snuffbox, + and said,— + </p> + <p> + “And you think a boy like our Jacques, a Boiscoran, in love, and beloved, + who is about to be married, and has his head full of wedding-presents, + could have committed such a horrible crime? Such things are not worth + discussing, and, with your leave, I shall return to my occupation.” + </p> + <p> + If doubt is contagious, confidence is still more so. Gradually the + marchioness felt reassured by the perfect assurance of her husband. The + blood came back to her cheeks; and smiles reappeared on pale lips. She + said in a stronger voice,— + </p> + <p> + “In fact, I may have been too easily frightened.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis assented by a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, much too easily, my dear. And, between us, I would not say much + about it. How could the officers help accusing our Jacques if his own + mother suspects him?” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness had taken up the telegram, and was reading it over once + more. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” she said, answering her own objections, “who in my place would + not have been frightened? This name of Claudieuse especially”— + </p> + <p> + “Why? It is the name of an excellent and most honorable gentleman,—the + best man in the world, in spite of his sea-dog manners.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques hates him, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques does not mind him any more than that.” + </p> + <p> + “They have repeatedly quarrelled.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Claudieuse is a furious legitimist; and as such he always + talks with the utmost contempt of all of us who have been attached to the + Orleans family.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques has been at law with him.” + </p> + <p> + “And he has done right, only he ought to have carried the matter through. + Claudieuse has claims on the Magpie, which divides our lands,—absurd + claims. He wants at all seasons, and according as he may desire, to direct + the waters of the little stream into his own channels, and thus drown the + meadows at Boiscoran, which are lower than his own. Even my brother, who + was an angel in patience and gentleness, had his troubles with this + tyrant.” + </p> + <p> + But the marchioness was not convinced yet. + </p> + <p> + “There was another trouble,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I should like to know myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Has Jacques hinted at any thing?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I only know this. Last year, at the Duchess of Champdoce’s, I met by + chance the Countess Claudieuse and her children. The young woman is + perfectly charming; and, as we were going to give a ball the week after, + it occurred to me to invite her at once. She refused, and did so in such + an icy, formal manner, that I did not insist.” + </p> + <p> + “She probably does not like dancing,” growled the marquis. + </p> + <p> + “That same evening I mentioned the matter to Jacques. He seemed to be very + angry, and told me, in a manner that was hardly compatible with respect, + that I had been very wrong, and that he had his reasons for not desiring + to come in contact with those people.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis felt so secure, that he only listened with partial attention, + looking all the time aside at his precious <i>faiences</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said at last, “Jacques detests the Claudieuses. What does that + prove? God be thanked, we do not murder all the people we detest!” + </p> + <p> + His wife did not insist any longer. She only asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, what must we do?” + </p> + <p> + She was so little in the habit of consulting her husband, that he was + quite surprised. + </p> + <p> + “The first thing is to get Jacques out of jail. We must see—we ought + to ask for advice.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment a light knock was heard at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” he said. + </p> + <p> + A servant came in, bringing a large envelope, marked “Telegraphic + Despatch. Private.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word!” cried the marquis. “I thought so. Now we shall be all + right again.” + </p> + <p> + The servant had left the room. He tore open the envelope; but at the first + glance at the contents the smile vanished, he turned pale, and just said,— + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” + </p> + <p> + Quick as lightning, the marchioness seized the fatal paper. She read at a + glance,— + </p> + <p> + “Come quick. Jacques in prison; close confinement; accused of horrible + crime. The whole town says he is guilty, and that he has confessed. + Infamous calumny! His judge is his former friend, Galpin, who was to marry + his cousin Lavarande. Know nothing except that Jacques is innocent. + Abominable intrigue! Grandpa Chandore and I will do what can be done. Your + help indispensable. Come, come! + </p> + <p> + “DIONYSIA CHANDORE.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my son is lost!” cried the marchioness with tears in her eyes. The + marquis, however, had recovered already from the shock. + </p> + <p> + “And I—I say more than ever, with Dionysia, who is a brave girl, + Jacques is innocent. But I see he is in danger. A criminal prosecution is + always an ugly affair. A man in close confinement may be made to say any + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “We must do something,” said the mother, nearly mad with grief. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and without losing a minute. We have friends: let us see who among + them can help us.” + </p> + <p> + “I might write to M. Margeril.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis, who had turned quite pale, became livid. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he cried. “You dare utter that name in my presence?” + </p> + <p> + “He is all powerful; and my son is in danger.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis stopped her with a threatening gesture, and cried with an + accent of bitter hatred,— + </p> + <p> + “I would a thousand times rather my son should die innocent on the + scaffold than owe his safety to that man!” + </p> + <p> + His wife seemed to be on the point of fainting. + </p> + <p> + “Great God! And yet you know very well that I was only a little + indiscreet.” + </p> + <p> + “No more!” said the marquis harshly. + </p> + <p> + Then, recovering his self-control by a powerful effort, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Before we attempt any thing, we must know how the matter stands. You will + leave for Sauveterre this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I will find some able lawyer,—a reliable jurist, who is not a + politician,—if such a one can be found nowadays. He will tell you + what to do, and will write to me, so that I can do here whatever may be + best. Dionysia is right. Jacques must be the victim of some abominable + intrigue. Nevertheless, we shall save him; but we must keep cool, + perfectly cool.” + </p> + <p> + And as he said this he rang the bell so violently, that a number of + servants came rushing in at once. + </p> + <p> + “Quick,” he said; “send for my lawyer, Mr. Chapelain. Take a carriage.” + </p> + <p> + The servant who took the order was so expeditious, that, in less than + twenty minutes, M. Chapelain arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! we want all your experience, my friend,” said the marquis to him. + “Look here. Read these telegrams.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, the lawyer had such control over himself, that he did not + betray what he felt; for he believed Jacques guilty, knowing as he did how + reluctant courts generally are to order the arrest of a suspected person. + </p> + <p> + “I know the man for the marchioness,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “A young man whose modesty alone has kept him from distinguishing himself + so far, although I know he is one of the best jurists at the bar, and an + admirable speaker.” + </p> + <p> + “What is his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Manuel Folgat. I shall send him to you at once.” + </p> + <p> + Two hours later, M. Chapelain’s <i>protégé</i> appeared at the house of + the Boiscorans. He was a man of thirty-one or thirty-two, with large, + wide-open eyes, whose whole appearance was breathing intelligence and + energy. + </p> + <p> + The marquis was pleased with him, and after having told him all he knew + about Jacques’s position, endeavored to inform him as to the people down + at Sauveterre,—who would be likely to be friends, and who enemies, + recommending to him, above all, to trust M. Seneschal, an old friend of + the family, and a most influential man in that community. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever is humanly possible shall be done, sir,” said the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + That same evening, at fifteen minutes past eight, the Marchioness of + Boiscoran and Manuel Folgat took their seats in the train for Orleans. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + The railway which connects Sauveterre with the Orleans line enjoys a + certain celebrity on account of a series of utterly useless curves, which + defy all common sense, and which would undoubtedly be the source of + countless accidents, if the trains were not prohibited from going faster + than eight or ten miles an hour. + </p> + <p> + The depot has been built—no doubt for the greater convenience of + travellers—at a distance of two miles from town, on a place where + formerly the first banker of Sauveterre had his beautiful gardens. The + pretty road which leads to it is lined on both sides with inns and + taverns, on market-days full of peasants, who try to rob each other, glass + in hand, and lips overflowing with protestations of honesty. On ordinary + days even, the road is quite lively; for the walk to the railway has + become a favorite promenade. People go out to see the trains start or come + in, to examine the new arrivals, or to exchange confidences as to the + reasons why Mr. or Mrs. So-and-so have made up their mind to travel. + </p> + <p> + It was nine o’clock in the morning when the train which brought the + marchioness and Manuel Folgat at last reached Sauveterre. The former was + overcome by fatigue and anxiety, having spent the whole night in + discussing the chances for her son’s safety, and was all the more + exhausted as the lawyer had taken care not to encourage her hopes. + </p> + <p> + For he also shared, in secret at least, M. Chapelain’s doubts. He, also, + had said to himself, that a man like M. de Boiscoran is not apt to be + arrested, unless there are strong reasons, and almost overwhelming proofs + of his guilt in the hands of the authorities. + </p> + <p> + The train was slackening speed. + </p> + <p> + “If only Dionysia and her father,” sighed the marchioness, “have thought + of sending a carriage to meet us.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” asked Manuel Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “Because I do not want all the world to see my grief and my tears.” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You will certainly not do that, madame, if you are disposed to follow my + advice.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him quite amazed; but he insisted. + </p> + <p> + “I mean you must not look as if you wished not to be seen: that would be a + great, almost irreparable mistake. What would they think if they saw you + in tears and great distress? They would say you were sure of your son’s + guilt; and the few who may still doubt will doubt no longer. You must + control public opinion from the beginning; for it is absolute in these + small communities, where everybody is under somebody else’s immediate + influence. Public opinion is all powerful; and say what you will, it + controls even the jurymen in their deliberations.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” said the marchioness: “that is but too true.” + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, madame, you must summon all your energy, conceal your maternal + anxiety in your innermost heart, dry your tears, and show nothing but the + most perfect confidence. Let everybody say, as he sees you, ‘No mother + could look so who thinks her son guilty.’” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness straightened herself, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You are right, sir; and I thank you. I must try to impress public opinion + as you say; and, so far from wishing to find the station deserted, I shall + be delighted to see it full of people. I will show you what a woman can do + who thinks of her son’s life.” + </p> + <p> + The Marchioness of Boiscoran was a woman of rare power. + </p> + <p> + Drawing her comb from her dressing-case, she repaired the disorder of her + coiffure; with a few skilful strokes she smoothed her dress; her features, + by a supreme effort of will, resumed their usual serenity; she forced her + lips to smile without betraying the effort it cost her; and then she said + in a clear, firm voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Look at me, sir. Can I show myself now?” + </p> + <p> + The train stopped at the station. Manuel Folgat jumped out lightly; and, + offering the marchioness his hand to assist her, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “You will be pleased with yourself, madam. Your courage will not be + useless. All Sauveterre seems to be here.” + </p> + <p> + This was more than half true. Ever since the night before, a report had + been current,—no one knew how it had started,—that the + “murderer’s mother,” as they charitably called her, would arrive by the + nine o’clock train; and everybody had determined to happen to be at the + station at that hour. In a place where gossip lives for three days upon + the last new dress from Paris, such an opportunity for a little excitement + was not to be neglected. No one thought for a moment of what the poor old + lady would probably feel upon being compelled thus to face a whole town; + for at Sauveterre curiosity has at least the merit, that it is not + hypocritical. Everybody is openly indiscreet, and by no means ashamed of + it. They place themselves right in front of you, and look at you, and try + to find out the secret of your joy or your grief. + </p> + <p> + It must be borne in mind, however, that public opinion was running + strongly against M. de Boiscoran. If there had been nothing against him + but the fire at Valpinson, and the attempts upon Count Claudieuse, that + would have been a small matter. But the fire had had terrible + consequences. Two men had perished in it; and two others had been so + severely wounded as to put their lives in jeopardy. Only the evening + before, a sad procession had passed through the streets of Sauveterre. In + a cart covered with a cloth, and followed by two priests, the almost + carbonized remains of Bolton the drummer, and of poor Guillebault, had + been brought home. The whole city had seen the widow go to the mayor’s + office, holding in her arms her youngest child, while the four others + clung to her dress. + </p> + <p> + All these misfortunes were traced back to Jacques, who was loaded with + curses; and the people now thought of receiving his mother, the + marchioness, with fierce hootings. + </p> + <p> + “There she is, there she is!” they said in the crowd, when she appeared in + the station, leaning upon M. Folgat’s arm. + </p> + <p> + But they did not say another word, so great was their surprise at her + appearance. Immediately two parties were formed. “She puts a bold face on + it,” said some; while others declared, “She is quite sure of her son’s + innocence.” + </p> + <p> + At all events, she had presence of mind enough to see what an impression + she produced, and how well she had done to follow M. Folgat’s advice. It + gave her additional strength. As she distinguished in the crowd some + people whom she knew, she went up to them, and, smiling, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know what has happened to us. It is unheard of! Here is the + liberty of a man like my son at the mercy of the first foolish notion that + enters the head of a magistrate. I heard the news yesterday by telegram, + and came down at once with this gentleman, a friend of ours, and one of + the first lawyers of Paris.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat looked embarrassed: he would have liked more considerate words. + Still he could not help supporting the marchioness in what she had said. + </p> + <p> + “These gentlemen of the court,” he said in measured tones, “will perhaps + be sorry for what they have done.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately a young man, whose whole livery consisted in a gold-laced cap, + came up to them at this moment. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Chandore’s carriage is here,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” replied the marchioness. + </p> + <p> + And bowing to the good people of Sauveterre, who were quite dumfounded by + her assurance, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me if I leave you so soon; but M. de Chandore expects us. I shall, + however, be happy to call upon you soon, on my son’s arm.” + </p> + <p> + The house of the Chandore family stands on the other side of the + New-Market Place, at the very top of the street, which is hardly more than + a line of steps, which the mayor persistently calls upon the municipal + council to grade, and which the latter as persistently refuse to improve. + The building is quite new, massive but ugly, and has at the side a + pretentious little tower with a peaked roof, which Dr. Seignebos calls a + perpetual menace of the feudal system. + </p> + <p> + It is true the Chandores once upon a time were great feudal lords, and for + a long time exhibited a profound contempt for all who could not boast of + noble ancestors and a deep hatred of revolutionary ideas. But if they had + ever been formidable, they had long since ceased to be so. Of the whole + great family,—one of the most numerous and most powerful of the + province,—only one member survived, the Baron de Chandore, and a + girl, his granddaughter, betrothed to Jacques de Boiscoran. Dionysia was + an orphan. She was barely three years old, when within five months, she + lost her father, who fell in a duel, and her mother, who had not the + strength to survive the man whom she had loved. This was certainly for the + child a terrible misfortune; but she was not left uncared for nor unloved. + Her grandfather bestowed all his affections upon her; and the two sisters + of her mother, the Misses Lavarande, then already no longer young, + determined never to marry, so as to devote themselves exclusively to their + niece. From that day the two good ladies had wished to live in the baron’s + house; but from the beginning he had utterly refused to listen to their + propositions, asserting that he was perfectly able himself to watch over + the child, and wanted to have her all to himself. All he would grant was, + that the ladies might spend the day with Dionysia whenever they chose. + </p> + <p> + Hence arose a certain rivalry between the aunts and the grandfather, which + led both parties to most amazing exaggerations. Each one did what could be + done to engage the affections of the little girl; each one was willing to + pay any price for the most trifling caress. At five years Dionysia had + every toy that had ever been invented. At ten she was dressed like the + first lady of the land, and had jewelry in abundance. + </p> + <p> + The grandfather, in the meantime, had been metamorphosed from head to + foot. Rough, rigid, and severe, he had suddenly become a “love of a + father.” The fierce look had vanished from his eyes, the scorn from his + lips; and both had given way to soft glances and smooth words. He was seen + daily trotting through the streets, and going from shop to shop on errands + for his grandchild. He invited her little friends, arranged picnics for + her, helped her drive her hoops, and if needs be, led in a cotillion. + </p> + <p> + If Dionysia looked displeased, he trembled. If she coughed, he turned + pale. Once she was sick: she had the measles. He staid up for twelve + nights in succession, and sent to Paris for doctors, who laughed in his + face. + </p> + <p> + And yet the two old ladies found means to exceed his folly. + </p> + <p> + If Dionysia learned any thing at all, it was only because she herself + insisted upon it: otherwise the writing-master and the music-master would + have been sent away at the slightest sign of weariness. + </p> + <p> + Sauveterre saw it, and shrugged its shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “What a wretched education!” the ladies said. “Such weakness is absolutely + unheard of. They tender the child a sorry service.” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt that such almost incredible spoiling, such blind + devotion, and perpetual worship, came very near making of Dionysia the + most disagreeable little person that ever lived. But fortunately she had + one of those happy dispositions which cannot be spoiled; and besides, she + was perhaps saved from the danger by its very excess. As she grew older + she would say with a laugh,— + </p> + <p> + “Grandpapa Chandore, my aunts Lavarande, and I, we do just what we + choose.” + </p> + <p> + That was only a joke. Never did a young girl repay such sweet affection + with rarer and nobler qualities. + </p> + <p> + She was thus leading a happy life, free from all care, and was just + seventeen years old, when the great event of her life took place. M. de + Chandore one morning met Jacques de Boiscoran, whose uncle had been a + friend of his, and invited him to dinner. Jacques accepted the invitation, + and came. Dionysia saw him, and loved him. + </p> + <p> + Now, for the first time in her life, she had a secret unknown to Grandpapa + Chandore and to her aunts; and for two years the birds and the flowers + were the only confidants of this love of hers, which grew up in her heart, + sweet like a dream, idealized by absence, and fed by memory. + </p> + <p> + For Jacques’s eyes remained blind for two years. + </p> + <p> + But the day on which they were opened he felt that his fate was sealed. + Nor did he hesitate a moment; and in less than a month after that, the + Marquis de Boiscoran came down to Sauveterre, and in all form asked + Dionysia’s hand for his son. + </p> + <p> + Ah! that was a heavy blow for Grandpapa Chandore. + </p> + <p> + He had, of course, often thought of the future marriage of his grandchild; + he had even at times spoken of it, and told her that he was getting old, + and should feel very much relieved when he should have found her a good + husband. But he talked of it as a distant thing, very much as we speak of + dying. M. de Boiscoran brought his true feelings out. He shuddered at the + idea of giving up Dionysia, of seeing her prefer another man to himself, + and of loving her children best of all. He was quite inclined to throw the + ambassador out of the window. + </p> + <p> + Still he checked his feelings, and replied that he could give no reply + till he had consulted his granddaughter. + </p> + <p> + Poor grandpapa! At the very first words he uttered, she exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so happy! But I expected it.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore bent his head to conceal a tear which burned in his eyes. + Then he said very low,— + </p> + <p> + “Then the thing is settled.” + </p> + <p> + At once, rather comforted by the joy that was sparkling in his + grandchild’s eyes, he began reproaching himself for his selfishness, and + for being unhappy, when his Dionysia seemed to be so happy. Jacques had, + of course, been allowed to visit the house as a lover; and the very day + before the fire at Valpinson, after having long and carefully counted the + days absolutely required for all the purchases of the trousseau, and all + the formalities of the event, the wedding-day had been finally fixed. + </p> + <p> + Thus Dionysia was struck down in the very height of her happiness, when + she heard, at the same time, of the terrible charges brought against M. de + Boiscoran, and of his arrest. + </p> + <p> + At first, thunderstruck, she had lain nearly ten minutes unconscious in + the arms of her aunts, who, like the grandfather, were themselves utterly + overcome with terror. But, as soon as she came to, she exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Am I mad to give way thus? Is it not evident that he is innocent?” + </p> + <p> + Then she had sent her telegram to the marquis, knowing well, that, before + taking any measures, it was all important to come to an understanding with + Jacques’s family. Then she had begged to be left alone; and she had spent + the night in counting the minutes that must pass till the hour came when + the train from Paris would bring her help. + </p> + <p> + At eight o’clock she had come down to give orders herself that a carriage + should be sent to the station for the marchioness, adding that they must + drive back as fast as they could. Then she had gone into the sitting-room + to join her grandfather and her aunts. They talked to her; but her + thoughts were elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + At last a carriage was heard coming up rapidly, and stopping before the + house. She got up, rushed into the hall, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Here is Jacques’s mother!” + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + We cannot do violence to our natural feelings without paying for it. The + marchioness had nearly fainted when she could at last take refuge in the + carriage: she was utterly overcome by the great effort she had made to + present to the curious people of Sauveterre a smiling face and calm + features. + </p> + <p> + “What a horrible comedy!” she murmured, as she sank back on the cushions. + </p> + <p> + “Admit, at least, madam,” said the lawyer, “that it was necessary. You + have won over, perhaps, a hundred persons to your son’s side.” + </p> + <p> + She made no reply. Her tears stifled her. What would she not have given + for a few moments’ solitude, to give way to all the grief of her heart, to + all the anxiety of a mother! The time till she reached the house seemed to + her an eternity; and, although the horse was driven at a furious rate, she + felt as if they were making no progress. At last the carriage stopped. + </p> + <p> + The little servant had jumped down, and opened the door, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Here we are.” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness got out with M. Folgat’s assistance; and her foot was + hardly on the ground, when the house-door opened, and Dionysia threw + herself into her arms, too deeply moved to speak. At last she broke forth,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my mother, my mother! what a terrible misfortune!” + </p> + <p> + In the passage M. de Chandore was coming forward. He had not been able to + follow his granddaughter’s rapid steps. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go in,” he said to the two ladies: “don’t stand there!” + </p> + <p> + For at all the windows curious eyes were peeping through the blinds. + </p> + <p> + He drew them into the sitting-room. Poor M. Folgat was sorely embarrassed + what to do with himself. No one seemed to be aware of his existence. He + followed them, however. He entered the room, and standing by the door, + sharing the general excitement, he was watching by turns, Dionysia, M. de + Chandore, and the two spinsters. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was then twenty years old. It could not be said that she was + uncommonly beautiful; but no one could ever forget her again who had once + seen her. Small in form, she was grace personified; and all her movements + betrayed a rare and exquisite perfection. Her black hair fell in + marvellous masses over her head, and contrasted strangely with her blue + eyes and her fair complexion. Her skin was of dazzling whiteness. Every + thing in her features spoke of excessive timidity. And yet, from certain + movements of her lips and her eyebrows, one might have suspected no lack + of energy. + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore looked unusually tall by her side. His massive frame + was imposing. He did not show his seventy-two years, but was as straight + as ever, and seemed to be able to defy all the storms of life. What struck + strangers most, perhaps, was his dark-red complexion, which gave him the + appearance of an Indian chieftain, while his white beard and hair brought + the crimson color still more prominently out. In spite of his herculean + frame and his strange complexion, his face bore the expression of almost + child-like goodness. But the first glance at his eyes proved that the + gentle smile on his lips was not to be taken alone. There were flashes in + his gray eyes which made people aware that a man who should dare, for + instance, to offend Dionysia, would have to pay for it pretty dearly. + </p> + <p> + As to the two aunts, they were as tall and thin as a couple of + willow-rods, pale, discreet, ultra-aristocratic in their reserve and their + coldness; but they bore in their faces an expression of happy peace and + sentimental tenderness, such as is often seen in old maids whose temper + has not been soured by celibacy. They dressed absolutely alike, as they + had done now for forty years, preferring neutral colors and modest + fashions, such as suited their simple taste. + </p> + <p> + They were crying bitterly at that moment; and M. Folgat felt instinctively + that there was no sacrifice of which they were not capable for their + beloved niece’s sake. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Dionysia!” they whispered. + </p> + <p> + The girl heard them, however; and, drawing herself up, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “But we are behaving shamefully. What would Jacques say, if he could see + us from his prison! Why should we be so sad? Is he not innocent?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes shone with unusual brilliancy: her voice had a ring which moved + Manuel Folgat deeply. + </p> + <p> + “I can at least, in justice to myself,” she went on saying, “assure you + that I have never doubted him for a moment. And how should I ever have + dared to doubt? The very night on which the fire broke out, Jacques wrote + me a letter of four pages, which he sent me by one of his tenants, and + which reached me at nine o’clock. I showed it to grandpapa. He read it, + and then he said I was a thousand times right, because a man who had been + meditating such a crime could never have written that letter.” + </p> + <p> + “I said so, and I still think so,” added M. de Chandore; “and every + sensible man will think so too; but”— + </p> + <p> + His granddaughter did not let him finish. + </p> + <p> + “It is evident therefore, that Jacques is the victim of an abominable + intrigue; and we must unravel it. We have cried enough: now let us act!” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to the marchioness, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “And my dear mother, I sent for you, because we want you to help us in + this great work.” + </p> + <p> + “And here I am,” replied the old lady, “not less certain of my son’s + innocence than you are.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently M. de Chandore had been hoping for something more; for he + interrupted her, asking,— + </p> + <p> + “And the marquis?” + </p> + <p> + “My husband remained in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman’s face assumed a curious expression. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is just like him,” he said. “Nothing can move him. His only son + is wickedly accused of a crime, arrested, thrown into prison. They write + to him; they hope he will come at once. By no means. Let his son get out + of trouble as he can. He has his <i>faiences</i> to attend to. Oh, if I + had a son!” + </p> + <p> + “My husband,” pleaded the marchioness, “thinks he can be more useful to + Jacques in Paris than here. There will be much to be done there.” + </p> + <p> + “Have we not the railway?” + </p> + <p> + “Moreover,” she went on, “he intrusted me to this gentleman.” She pointed + out M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “M. Manuel Folgat, who has promised us the assistance of his experience, + his talents, and his devotion.” + </p> + <p> + When thus formally introduced, M. Folgat bowed, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I am all hope. But I think with Miss Chandore, that we must go to work + without losing a second. Before I can decide, however, upon what is to be + done, I must know all the facts.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately we know nothing,” replied M. de Chandore,—“nothing, + except that Jacques is kept in close confinement.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, we must try to find out. You know, no doubt, all the law + officers of Sauveterre?” + </p> + <p> + “Very few. I know the commonwealth attorney.” + </p> + <p> + “And the magistrate before whom the matter has been brought.” + </p> + <p> + The older of the two Misses Lavarande rose, and exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “That man, M. Galpin, is a monster of hypocrisy and ingratitude. He called + himself Jacques’s friend; and Jacques liked him well enough to induce us, + my sister and myself, to give our consent to a marriage between him and + one of our cousins, a Lavarande. Poor child. When she learned the sad + truth, she cried, ‘Great God! God be blessed that I escaped the disgrace + of becoming the wife of such a man!’” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” added the other old lady, “if all Sauveterre thinks Jacques guilty, + let them also say, ‘His own friend has become his judge.’” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I must have more minute information. The marquis mentioned to me a M. + Seneschal, mayor of Sauveterre.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore looked at once for his hat, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “To be sure! He is a friend of ours; and, if any one is well informed, he + is. Let us go to him. Come.” + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal was indeed a friend of the Chandores, the Lavarandes, and + also of the Boiscorans. Although he was a lawyer he had become attached to + the people whose confidential adviser he had been for more than twenty + years. Even after having retired from business, M. Seneschal had still + retained the full confidence of his former clients. They never decided on + any grave question, without consulting him first. His successor did the + business for them; but M. Seneschal directed what was to be done. + </p> + <p> + Nor was the assistance all on one side. The example of great people like + M. de Chandore and Jacques’s uncle had brought many a peasant on business + into M. Seneschal’s office; and when he was, at a later period of his + life, attacked by the fever of political ambition, and offered to + “sacrifice himself for his country” by becoming mayor of Sauveterre, and a + member of the general council, their support had been of great service to + him. + </p> + <p> + Hence he was well-nigh overcome when he returned, on that fatal morning, + to Sauveterre. He looked so pale and undone, that his wife was seriously + troubled. + </p> + <p> + “Great God, Augustus! What has happened?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Something terrible has happened,” he replied in so tragic a manner, that + his wife began to tremble. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, Mrs. Seneschal trembled very easily. She was a woman of + forty-five or fifty years, very dark, short, and fat, trying hard to + breathe in the corsets which were specially made for her by the Misses + Mechinet, the clerk’s sisters. When she was young, she had been rather + pretty: now she still kept the red cheeks of her younger days, a forest of + jet black hair, and excellent teeth. But she was not happy. Her life had + been spent in wishing for children, and she had none. + </p> + <p> + She consoled herself, it is true, by constantly referring to all the most + delicate details on the subject, mentioning not to her intimate friends + only, but to any one who would listen, her constant disappointments, the + physicians she had consulted, the pilgrimages she had undertaken, and the + quantities of fish she had eaten, although she abominated fish. All had + been in vain, and as her hopes fled with her years, she had become + resigned, and indulged now in a kind of romantic sentimentality, which she + carefully kept alive by reading novels and poems without end. She had a + tear ready for every unfortunate being, and some words of comfort for + every grief. Her charity was well known. Never had a poor woman with + children appealed to her in vain. In spite of all that, she was not easily + taken in. She managed her household with her hand as well as with her eye; + and no one surpassed her in the extent of her washings, or the excellence + of her dinners. + </p> + <p> + She was quite ready, therefore, to sigh and to sob when her husband told + her what had happened during the night. When he had ended, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “That poor Dionysia is capable of dying of it. In your place, I would go + at once to M. de Chandore, and inform him in the most cautious manner of + what has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall take good care not to do so,” replied M. Seneschal; “and I tell + you expressly not to go there yourself.” + </p> + <p> + For he was by no means a philosopher; and, if he had been his own master, + he would have taken the first train, and gone off a hundred miles, so as + not to see the grief of the Misses Lavarande and Grandpapa Chandore. He + was exceedingly fond of Dionysia: he had been hard at work for years to + settle and to add to her fortune, as if she had been his own daughter, and + now to witness her grief! He shuddered at the idea. Besides, he really did + not know what to believe, and influenced by M. Galpin’s assurance, misled + by public opinion, he had come to ask himself if Jacques might not, after + all, have committed the crimes with which he was charged. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately his duties were on that day so numerous and so troublesome, + that he had no time to think. He had to provide for the recovery and the + transportation of the remains of the two unfortunate victims of the fire; + he had to receive the mother of one, and the widow and children of the + other, and to listen to their complaints, and try to console them by + promising the former a small pension, and the latter some help in the + education of their children. Then he had to give directions to have the + wounded men brought home; and, after that, he had gone out in search of a + house for Count Claudieuse and his wife, which had given him much trouble. + Finally, a large part of the afternoon had been taken up by an angry + discussion with Dr. Seignebos. The doctor, in the name of outraged + society, as he called it, and in the name of justice and humanity, + demanded the immediate arrest of Cocoleu, that wretch whose unconscious + statement formed the basis of the accusation. He demanded with a furious + oath that the epileptic idiot should be sent to the hospital, and kept + there so as to be professionally examined by experts. The mayor had for + some time refused to grant the request, which seemed to him unreasonable; + but he doctor had talked so loud and insisted so strongly, that at last he + had sent two gendarmes to Brechy with orders to bring back Cocoleu. + </p> + <p> + They had returned several hours later with empty hands. The idiot had + disappeared; and no one in the whole district had been able to give any + information as to this whereabouts. + </p> + <p> + “And you think that is natural?” exclaimed Dr. Seignebos, whose eyes were + glaring at the mayor from under his spectacles. “To me that looks like an + absolute proof that a plot has been hatched to ruin M. de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “But can’t you be quiet?” M. Seneschal said angrily. “Do you think Cocoleu + is lost? He will turn up again.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor had left him without insisting any longer; but before going + home, he had dropped in at his club, and there, in the presence of twenty + people he had declared that he had positive proof of a plot formed against + M. de Boiscoran, whom the Monarchists had never forgiven for having left + them; and that the Jesuits were certainly mixed up with the business. + </p> + <p> + This interference was more injurious than useful to Jacques; and the + consequences were soon seen. That same evening, when M. Galpin crossed the + New-Market Place, he was wantonly insulted. Very naturally he went, almost + in a fury, to call upon the mayor, to hold him responsible for this insult + offered to Justice in his person, and asking for energetic punishment. M. + Seneschal promised to take the proper measures, and went to the + commonwealth attorney to act in concert with him. There he learned what + had happened at Boiscoran, and the terrible result of the examination. + </p> + <p> + So he had come home, quite sorrowful, distressed at Jacques’s situation, + and very much disturbed by the political aspect which the matter was + beginning to wear. He had spent a bad night, and in the morning had + displayed such fearful temper, that his wife had hardly dared to say a + word to him. But even that was not all. At two o’clock precisely, the + funeral of Bolton and Guillebault was to take place; and he had promised + Capt. Parenteau that he would be present in his official costume, and + accompanied by the whole municipal council. He had already given orders to + have his uniform gotten ready, when the servant announced visitors,—M. + de Chandore and friend. + </p> + <p> + “That was all that was wanting!” he exclaimed + </p> + <p> + But, thinking it over, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, it had to come sooner or later. Show them in!” + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal was too good to be so troubled in advance, and to prepare + himself for a heart-rending scene. He was amazed at the easy, almost + cheerful manner with which M. de Chandore presented to him his companion. + </p> + <p> + “M. Manuel Folgat, my dear Seneschal, a famous lawyer from Paris, who has + been kind enough to come down with the Marchioness de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a stranger here, M. Seneschal,” said Folgat: “I do not know the + manner of thinking, the customs, the interests, the prejudices, of this + country; in fact, I am totally ignorant, and I know I would commit many a + grievous blunder, unless I could secure the assistance of an able and + experienced counsellor. M. de Boiscoran and M. de Chandore have both + encouraged me to hope that I might find such a man in you.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir, and with all my heart,” replied M. Seneschal, bowing + politely, and evidently flattered by this deference on the part of a great + Paris lawyer. + </p> + <p> + He had offered his guests seats. He had sat down himself, and resting his + elbow on the arm of his big office-chair, he rubbed his clean-shaven chin + with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “This is a very serious matter, gentlemen,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + “A criminal charge is always serious,” replied M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” cried M. de Chandore, “you are not in doubt about + Jacques’s innocence?” + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal did not say, No. He was silent, thinking of the wise remarks + made by his wife the evening before. + </p> + <p> + “How can we know,” he began at last, “what may be going on in young brains + of twenty-five when they are set on fire by the remembrance of certain + insults! Wrath is a dangerous counsellor.” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore refused to hear any more. + </p> + <p> + “What! do you talk to me of wrath?” he broke in; “and what do you see of + wrath in this Valpinson affair? I see nothing in it, for my part, but the + very meanest crime, long prepared and coolly carried out.” + </p> + <p> + The mayor very seriously shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You do not know all that has happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” added M. Folgat, “it is precisely for the purpose of hearing what + has happened that we come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he went to work to describe the events which he had witnessed at + Valpinson, and those, which, as he had learned from the commonwealth + attorney, had taken place at Boiscoran; and this he did with all the + lucidity of an experienced old lawyer who is accustomed to unravel the + mysteries of complicated suits. He wound up by saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Finally, do you know what Daubigeon said to me, whose evidence you will + certainly know how to appreciate? He said in so many words, ‘Galpin could + not but order the arrest of M. de Boiscoran. Is he guilty? I do not know + what to think of it. The accusation is overwhelming. He swears by all the + gods that he is innocent; but he will not tell how he spent the night.’” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore, in spite of his vigor, was near fainting, although his + face remained as crimson as ever. Nothing on earth could make him turn + pale. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” he murmured, “what will Dionysia say?” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to M. Folgat, he said aloud,— + </p> + <p> + “And yet Jacques had something in his mind for that evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure of it. But for that, he would certainly have come to the house, + as he has done every evening for a month. Besides, he said so himself in + the letter which he sent Dionysia by one of his tenants, and which she + mentioned to you. He wrote, ‘I curse from the bottom of my heart the + business which prevents me from spending the evening with you; but I + cannot possibly defer it any longer. To-morrow!’” + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “The letter is of such a nature,” continued the old gentleman, “that I + repeat, No man who premeditated such a hideous crime could possibly have + written it. Nevertheless, I confess to you, that, when I heard the fatal + news, this very allusion to some pressing business impressed me + painfully.” + </p> + <p> + But the young lawyer seemed to be far from being convinced. + </p> + <p> + “It is evident,” he said, “that M. de Boiscoran will on no account let it + be known where he went.” + </p> + <p> + “He told a falsehood, sir,” insisted M. Seneschal. “He commenced by + denying that he had gone the way on which the witnesses met him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very naturally, since he desires to keep the place unknown to which he + went.” + </p> + <p> + “He did not say any more when he was told that he was under arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “Because he hopes he will get out of this trouble without betraying his + secret.” + </p> + <p> + “If that were so, it would be very strange.” + </p> + <p> + “Stranger things than that have happened.” + </p> + <p> + “To allow himself to be accused of incendiarism and murder when he is + innocent!” + </p> + <p> + “To be innocent, and to allow one’s self to be condemned, is still + stranger; and yet there are instances”— + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer spoke in that short, imperious tone which is, so to say, + the privilege of his profession, and with such an accent of assurance, + that M. de Chandore felt his hopes revive. M. Seneschal was sorely + troubled. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think, sir?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That M. de Boiscoran must be innocent,” replied the young advocate. And, + without leaving time for objections, he continued,— + </p> + <p> + “That is the opinion of a man who is not influenced by any consideration. + I come here without any preconceived notions. I do not know Count + Claudieuse any more than M. de Boiscoran. A crime has been committed: I am + told the circumstances; and I at once come to the conclusion that the + reasons which led to the arrest of the accused would lead me to set him at + liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Let me explain. If M. de Boiscoran is guilty, he has shown, in the way in + which he received M. Galpin at the house, a perfectly unheard-of + self-control, and a matchless genius for comedy. Therefore, if he is + guilty, he is immensely clever”— + </p> + <p> + “But.” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to finish. If he is guilty, he has in the examination shown a + marvellous want of self-control, and, to be brief, a nameless stupidity: + therefore, if he is guilty, he is immensely stupid”— + </p> + <p> + “But.” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to finish. Can one and the same person be at once so unusually + clever and so unusually stupid? Judge yourself. But again: if M. de + Boiscoran is guilty, he ought to be sent to the insane asylum, and not to + prison; for any one else but a madman would have poured out the dirty + water in which he had washed his blackened hands, and would have buried + anywhere that famous breech-loader, of which the prosecution makes such + good use.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques is safe!” exclaimed M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal was not so easily won over. + </p> + <p> + “That is specious pleading,” he said. “Unfortunately, we want something + more than a logic conclusion to meet a jury with an abundance of witnesses + on the other side.” + </p> + <p> + “We will find more on our side.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you propose to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. I have just told you my first impression. Now I must study + the case, and examine the witnesses, beginning with old Anthony.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore had risen. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “We can reach Boiscoran in an hour. Shall I send for my carriage?” + </p> + <p> + “As quickly as possible,” replied the young lawyer. + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore’s servant was back in a quarter of an hour, and announced + that the carriage was at the door. M. de Chandore and M. Folgat took their + seats; and, while they were getting in, the mayor warned the young Paris + lawyer,— + </p> + <p> + “Above all, be prudent and circumspect. The public mind is already but too + much inflamed. Politics are mixed up with the case. I am afraid of some + disturbance at the burial of the firemen; and they bring me word that Dr. + Seignebos wants to make a speech at the graveyard. Good-by and good luck!” + </p> + <p> + The driver whipped the horse, and, as the carriage was going down through + the suburbs, M. de Chandore said,— + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand why Anthony did not come to me immediately after his + master had been arrested. What can have happened to him?” + </p> + <p> + IV. + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal’s horse was perhaps one of the very best in the whole + province; but M. de Chandore’s was still better. In less than fifty + minutes they had driven the whole distance to Boiscoran; and during this + time M. de Chandore and M. Folgat had not exchanged fifty words. + </p> + <p> + When they reached Boiscoran, the courtyard was silent and deserted. Doors + and windows were hermetically closed. On the steps of the porch sat a + stout young peasant, who, at the sight of the newcomers, rose, and carried + his hand to his cap. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Anthony?” asked M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + “Up stairs, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman tried to open the door: it resisted. + </p> + <p> + “O sir! Anthony has barricaded the door from the inside.” + </p> + <p> + “A curious idea,” said M. de Chandore, knocking with the butt-end of his + whip. + </p> + <p> + He was knocking fiercer and fiercer, when at last Anthony’s voice was + heard from within,— + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” + </p> + <p> + “It is I, Baron Chandore.” + </p> + <p> + The bars were removed instantly, and the old valet showed himself in the + door. He looked pale and undone. The disordered condition of his beard, + his hair, and his dress, showed that he had not been to bed. And this + disorder was full of meaning in a man who ordinarily prided himself upon + appearing always in the dress of an English gentleman. + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore was so struck by this, that he asked, first of all,— + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with you, my good Anthony?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of replying, Anthony drew the baron and his companion inside; and, + when he had fastened the door again, he crossed his arms, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “The matter is—well, I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman and the lawyer looked at each other. They evidently both + thought the poor man had lost his mind. Anthony saw it, and said quickly,— + </p> + <p> + “No, I am not mad, although, certainly, there are things passing here + which could make one doubtful of one’s own senses. If I am afraid, it is + for good reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not doubt your master?” asked M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + The servant cast such fierce, threatening glances at the lawyer, that M. + de Chandore hastened to interfere. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Anthony,” he said, “this gentleman is a friend of mine, a lawyer, + who has come down from Paris with the marchioness to defend Jacques. You + need not mistrust him, nay, more than that, you must tell him all you + know, even if”— + </p> + <p> + The trusty old servant’s face brightened up, and he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! If the gentleman is a lawyer. Welcome, sir. Now I can say all that + weighs on my heart. No, most assuredly I do not think Master Jacques + guilty. It is impossible he should be so: it is absurd to think of it. But + what I believe, what I am sure of, is this,—there is a plot to + charge him with all the horrors of Valpinson.” + </p> + <p> + “A plot?” broke in M. Folgat, “whose? how? and what for?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that is more than I know. But I am not mistaken; and you would think + so too, if you had been present at the examination, as I was. It was + fearful, gentlemen, it was unbearable, so that even I was stupefied for a + moment, and thought my master was guilty, and advised him to flee. The + like has never been heard of before, I am sure. Every thing went against + him. Every answer he made sounded like a confession. A crime had been + committed at Valpinson; he had been seen going there and coming back by + side paths. A fire had been kindled; his hands bore traces of charcoal. + Shots had been fired; they found one of his cartridge-cases close to the + spot where Count Claudieuse had been wounded. There it was I saw the plot. + How could all these circumstances have agreed so precisely if they had not + been pre-arranged, and calculated beforehand? Our poor M. Daubigeon had + tears in his eyes; and even that meddlesome fellow, Mechinet, the clerk, + was quite overcome. M. Galpin was the only one who looked pleased; but + then he was the magistrate, and he put the questions. He, my master’s + friend!—a man who was constantly coming here, who ate our bread, + slept in our beds, and shot our game. Then it was, ‘My dear Jacques,’ and + ‘My dear Boiscoran’ always, and no end of compliments and caresses; so + that I often thought one of these days I should find him blackening my + master’s boots. Ah! he took his revenge yesterday; and you ought to have + seen with what an air he said to master, ‘We are friends no longer.’ The + rascal! No, we are friends no longer; and, if God was just, you ought to + have all the shot in your body that has wounded Count Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore was growing more and more impatient. As soon, therefore, as + Anthony’s breath gave out a moment, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not come and tell me all that immediately?” + </p> + <p> + The old servant ventured to shrug his shoulders slightly, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “How could I? When the examination was over, that man, Galpin, put the + seals everywhere,—strips of linen, fastened on with sealing-wax, as + they do with dead people. He put one on every opening, and on some of them + two. He put three on the outer door. Then he told me that he appointed me + keeper of the house, that I would be paid for it, but that I would be sent + to the galleys if any one touched the seals with the tip of the finger. + When he had handed master over to the gendarmes, that man, Galpin, went + away, leaving me here alone, dumfounded, like a man who has been knocked + in the head. Nevertheless, I should have come to you, sir, but I had an + idea, and that gave me the shivers.” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore stamped his foot, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Come to the point, to the point!” + </p> + <p> + “It was this: you must know, gentlemen, that, in the examination, that + breech-loading gun played a prominent part. That man, Galpin looked at it + carefully, and asked master when he had last fired it off. Master said, + ‘About five days ago. You hear, I say, five days.’ Thereupon, that man, + Galpin, puts the gun down, without looking at the barrels.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I—Anthony—I had the evening before—I say the + evening before—cleaned the gun, washed it, and”— + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word,” cried M. de Chandore, “why did you not say so at once? If + the barrels are clean, that is an absolute proof that Jacques is + innocent.” + </p> + <p> + The old servant shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, sir. But are they clean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Master may have been mistaken as to the time when he last fired the gun, + and then the barrels would be soiled; and, instead of helping him, my + evidence might ruin him definitely. Before I say any thing, I ought to be + sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Folgat, approvingly, “and you have done well to keep silence, + my good man, and I cannot urge you too earnestly not to say a word of it + to any one. That fact may become a decisive argument for the <i>defence</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I can keep my tongue, sir. Only you may imagine how impatient it has + made me to see these accursed seals which prevent me from going to look at + the gun. Oh, if I had dared to break one of them!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of doing it; but I checked myself. Then it occurred to me that + other people might think of the same thing. The rascals who have formed + this abominable plot against Master Jacques are capable of any thing, + don’t you think so? Why might not they come some night, and break the + seals? I put the steward on guard in the garden, beneath the windows. I + put his son as a sentinel into the courtyard; and I have myself stood + watch before the seals with arms in my hands all the time. Let the rascals + come on; they will find somebody to receive them.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of all that is said, lawyers are better than their reputation. + Lawyers, accused of being sceptics above all men, are, on the contrary, + credulous and simple-minded. Their enthusiasm is sincere; and, when we + think they play a part, they are in earnest. In the majority of cases, + they fancy their own side the just one, even though they should be beaten. + Hour by hour, ever since his arrival at Sauveterre, M. Folgat’s faith in + Jacques’s innocence had steadily increased. Old Anthony’s tale was not + made to shake his growing conviction. He did not admit the existence of a + plot, however; but he was not disinclined to believe in the cunning + calculations of some rascal, who, availing himself of circumstances known + to him alone, tried to let all suspicion fall upon M. de Boiscoran, + instead of himself. + </p> + <p> + But there were many more questions to be asked; and Anthony was in such a + state of feverish excitement, that it was difficult to induce him to + answer. For it is not so easy to examine a man, however inclined he may be + to answer. It requires no small self-possession, much care, and an + imperturbable method, without which the most important facts are apt to be + overlooked. M. Folgat began, therefore, after a moment’s pause, once more, + saying,— + </p> + <p> + “My good Anthony, I cannot praise your conduct in this matter too highly. + However, we have not done with it yet. But as I have eaten nothing since I + left Paris last night, and as I hear the bell strike twelve o’clock”— + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore seemed to be heartily ashamed, and broke in,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, forgetful old man that I am! Why did I not think of it? But you will + pardon me, I am sure. I am so completely upset. Anthony, what can you let + us have?” + </p> + <p> + “The housekeeper has eggs, potted fowl, ham”— + </p> + <p> + “Whatever can be made ready first will be the best,” said the young + lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “In a quarter of an hour the table shall be set,” replied the servant. + </p> + <p> + He hurried away, while M. de Chandore invited M. Folgat into the + sitting-room. The poor grandfather summoned all his energy to keep up + appearances. + </p> + <p> + “This fact about the gun will save him, won’t it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so,” replied the famous advocate. + </p> + <p> + And they were silent,—the grandfather thinking of the grief of his + grandchild, and cursing the day on which he had opened his house to + Jacques, and with him to such heart-rending anguish; the lawyer arranging + in his mind the facts he had learned, and preparing the questions he was + going to ask. They were both so fully absorbed by their thoughts, that + they started when Anthony reappeared, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, breakfast is ready!” + </p> + <p> + The table had been set in the dining-room; and, when the two gentlemen had + taken their seats, old Anthony placed himself, his napkin over his arm, + behind them; but M. de Chandore called him, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Put another plate, Anthony, and breakfast with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” protested the old servant,—“sir”— + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” repeated the baron: “if you eat after us, you will make us + lose time, and an old servant like you is a member of the family.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony obeyed, quite overcome, but blushing with delight at the honor + that was done him; for the Baron de Chandore did not usually distinguish + himself to familiarity. When the ham and eggs of the housekeeper had been + disposed of, M. Folgat said,— + </p> + <p> + “Now let us go back to business. Keep cool, my dear Anthony, and remember, + that, unless we get the court to say that there is no case, your answers + may become the basis of our defence. What were M. de Boiscoran’s habits + when he was here?” + </p> + <p> + “When he was here, sir, he had, so to say, no habits. We came here very + rarely, and only for a short time.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind: what was he doing here?” + </p> + <p> + “He used to rise late; he walked about a good deal; he sometimes went out + hunting; he sketched; he read, for master is a great reader, and is as + fond of his books as the marquis, his father, is of his porcelains.” + </p> + <p> + “Who came here to see him?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Galpin most frequently, Dr. Seignebos, the priest from Brechy, M. + Seneschal, M. Daubigeon.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he spend his evenings?” + </p> + <p> + “At M. de Chandore’s, who can tell you all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “He had no other relatives in this country?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not know that he had any lady friend?” + </p> + <p> + Anthony looked as if he would have blushed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” he said, “you do not know, I presume, that master is engaged to + Miss Dionysia?” + </p> + <p> + The Baron de Chandore was not a baby, as he liked to call it. Deeply + interested as he was, he got up, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I want to take a little fresh air.” + </p> + <p> + And he went out, understanding very well that his being Dionysia’s + grandfather might keep Anthony from telling the truth. + </p> + <p> + “That is a sensible man,” thought M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + Then he added aloud,— + </p> + <p> + “Now we are alone, my dear Anthony, you can speak frankly. Did M. de + Boiscoran keep a mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he ever have one?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. They will tell you, perhaps, that once upon a time he was rather + pleased with a great, big red-haired woman, the daughter of a miller in + the neighborhood, and that the gypsy of a woman came more frequently to + the chateau than was needful,—now on one pretext, and now on + another. But that was mere childishness. Besides, that was five years ago, + and the woman has been married these three years to a basket-maker at + Marennes.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite sure of what you say?” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as I am of myself. And you would be as sure of it yourself, if + you knew the country as I know it, and the abominable tongues the people + have. There is no concealing any thing from them. I defy a man to talk + three times to a woman without their finding it out, and making a story of + it. I say nothing of Paris”— + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat listened attentively. He asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! was there any thing of the kind in Paris?” + </p> + <p> + Anthony hesitated; at last he said,— + </p> + <p> + “You see, master’s secrets are not my secrets, and, after the oath I have + sworn,”— + </p> + <p> + “It may be, however, that his safety depends upon your frankness in + telling me all,” said the lawyer. “You may be sure he will not blame you + for having spoken.” + </p> + <p> + For several seconds the old servant remained undecided; then he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Master, they say, has had a great love-affair.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know when. That was before I entered his service. All I know is, + that, for the purpose of meeting the person, master had bought at Passy, + at the end of Vine Street, a beautiful house, in the centre of a large + garden, which he had furnished magnificently.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “That is a secret, which, of course, neither master’s father nor his + mother knows to this day; and I only know it, because one day master fell + down the steps, and dislocated his foot, so that he had to send for me to + nurse him. He may have bought the house under his own name; but he was not + known by it there. He passed for an Englishmen, a Mr. Burnett; and he had + an English maid-servant.” + </p> + <p> + “And the person?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir! I not only do not know who she is, but I cannot even guess it, + she took such extraordinary precautions! Now that I mean to tell you every + thing, I will confess to you that I had the curiosity to question the + English maid. She told me that she was no farther than I was, that she + knew, to be sure, a lady was coming there from time to time; but that she + had never seen even the end of her nose. Master always arranged it so + well, that the girl was invariably out on some errand or other when the + lady came and when she went away. While she was in the house, master + waited upon her himself. And when they wanted to walk in the garden, they + sent the servant away, on some fool’s errand, to Versailles or to + Fontainebleau; and she was mad, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat began to twist his mustache, as he was in the habit of doing + when he was specially interested. For a moment, he thought he saw the + woman—that inevitable woman who is always at the bottom of every + great event in man’s life; and just then she vanished from his sight; for + he tortured his mind in vain to discover a possible if not probable + connection between the mysterious visitor in Vine Street and the events + that had happened at Valpinson. He could not see a trace. Rather + discouraged, he asked once more,— + </p> + <p> + “After all, my dear Anthony, this great love-affair of your master’s has + come to an end?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems so, sir, since Master Jacques was going to marry Miss Dionysia.” + </p> + <p> + That reason was perhaps not quite as conclusive as the good old servant + imagined; but the young advocate made no remark. + </p> + <p> + “And when do you think it came to an end?” + </p> + <p> + “During the war, master and the lady must have been parted; for master did + not stay in Paris. He commanded a volunteer company; and he was even + wounded in the head, which procured him the cross.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he still own the house in Vine Street?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, some time ago, when master and I went to Paris for a week, he + said to me one day, ‘The War and the commune have cost me dear. My cottage + has had more than twenty shells, and it has been in turn occupied by <i>Francs-tireurs</i>, + Communists and Regulars. The walls are broken; and there is not a piece of + furniture uninjured. My architect tells me, that all in all, the repairs + will cost me some ten thousand dollars.’” + </p> + <p> + “What? Repairs? Then he thought of going back there?” + </p> + <p> + “At that time, sir, master’s marriage had not been settled. Yet”— + </p> + <p> + “Still that would go to prove that he had at that time met the mysterious + lady once more, and that the war had not broken off their relations.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be.” + </p> + <p> + “And has he never mentioned the lady again?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment M. de Chandore’s cough was heard in the hall,—that + cough which men affect when they wish to announce their coming. + Immediately afterwards he reappeared; and M. Folgat said to him, to show + that his presence was no longer inconvenient,— + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, sir, I was just on the point of going in search of you, for + fear that you felt really unwell.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” replied the old gentleman, “the fresh air has done me good.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down; and the young advocate turned again to Anthony, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, let us go on. How was he the day before the fire?” + </p> + <p> + “Just as usual.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he do before he went out?” + </p> + <p> + “He dined as usual with a good appetite; then he went up stairs and + remained there for an hour. When he came down, he had a letter in his + hand, which he gave to Michael, our tenant’s son, and told him to carry it + to Sauveterre, to Miss Chandore.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. In that letter, M. de Boiscoran told Miss Dionysia that he was + retained here by a matter of great importance.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any idea what that could have been?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, sir, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Still let us see. M. de Boiscoran must have had powerful reasons to + deprive himself of the pleasure of spending the evening with Miss + Dionysia?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “He must also have had his reasons for taking to the marshes, on his way + out, instead of going by the turnpike, and for coming back through the + woods.” + </p> + <p> + Old Anthony was literally tearing his hair, as he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir! These are the very words M. Galpin said.” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately every man in his senses will say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, sir: I know it but too well. And Master Jacques himself knew it + so well that at first he tried to find some pretext; but he has never told + a falsehood. And he who is such a clever man could not find a pretext that + had any sense in it. He said he had gone to Brechy to see his + wood-merchant”— + </p> + <p> + “And why should he not?” + </p> + <p> + Anthony shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Because the wood-merchant at Brechy is a thief, and everybody knows that + master has kicked him out of the house some three years ago. We sell all + our wood at Sauveterre.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat had taken out a note-book, and wrote down some of Anthony’s + statements, preparing thus the outline of his defence. This being done, he + commenced again,— + </p> + <p> + “Now we come to Cocoleu.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah the wretch!” cried Anthony. + </p> + <p> + “You know him?” + </p> + <p> + “How could I help knowing him, when I lived all my life here at Boiscoran + in the service of master’s uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “Then what kind of a man is he?” + </p> + <p> + “An idiot, sir or, as they here call it, an innocent, who has Saint Vitus + dance into the bargain, and epilepsy moreover.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is perfectly notorious that he is imbecile?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, although I have heard people insist that he is not quite so + stupid as he looks, and that, as they say here, he plays the ass in order + to get his oats”— + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore interrupted him, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “On this subject Dr. Seignebos can give you all the information you may + want: he kept Cocoleu for nearly two years at his own house.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to see the doctor,” replied M. Folgat. “But first of all we must + find this unfortunate idiot.” + </p> + <p> + “You heard what M. Seneschal said: he has put the gendarmes on his track.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony made a face, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “If the gendarmes should take Cocoleu, Cocoleu must have given himself up + voluntarily.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, gentlemen, there is no one who knows all the by-ways and + out-of-the-way corners of the country so well as that idiot; for he has + been hiding all his life like a savage in all the holes and hiding-places + that are about here; and, as he can live perfectly well on roots and + berries, he may stay away three months without being seen by any one.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” exclaimed M. Folgat angrily. + </p> + <p> + “I know only one man,” continued Anthony, “who could find out Cocoleu, and + that is our tenant’s son Michael,—the young man you saw down + stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Send for him,” said M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + Michael appeared promptly, and, when he had heard what he was expected to + do, he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “The thing can be done, certainly; but it is not very easy. Cocoleu has + not the sense of a man; but he has all the instincts of a brute. However, + I’ll try.” + </p> + <p> + There was nothing to keep either M. de Chandore or M. Folgat any longer at + Boiscoran; hence, after having warned Anthony to watch the seals well, and + get a glimpse, if possible, of Jacques’s gun, when the officers should + come for the different articles, they left the chateau. It was five + o’clock when they drove into town again. Dionysia was waiting for them in + the sitting-room. She rose as they entered, looking quite pale, with dry, + brilliant eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What? You are alone here!” said M. de Chandore. “Why have they left you + alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be angry, grandpapa. I have just prevailed on the marchioness, who + was exhausted with fatigue to lie down for an hour or so before dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “And your aunts?” + </p> + <p> + “They have gone out, grandpapa. They are probably, by this time at M. + Galpin’s.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat started, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “But that is foolish in them!” exclaimed the old gentleman. + </p> + <p> + The young girl closed his lips by a single word. She said,— + </p> + <p> + “I asked them to go.” + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the step taken by the Misses Lavarande was foolish. At the point + which things had reached now, their going to see M. Galpin was perhaps + equivalent to furnishing him the means to crush Jacques. But whose fault + was it, but M. de Chandore’s and M. Folgat’s? Had they not committed an + unpardonable blunder in leaving Sauveterre without any other precaution + than to send word through M. Seneschal’s servant, that they would be back + for dinner, and that they need not be troubled about them? + </p> + <p> + Not be troubled? And that to the Marchioness de Boiscoran and Dionysia, to + Jacques’s mother and Jacques’s betrothed. + </p> + <p> + Certainly, at first, the two wretched women preserved their self-control + in a manner, trying to set each other an example of courage and + confidence. But, as hour after hour passed by, their anxiety became + intolerable; and gradually, as they confided their apprehensions to each + other, their grief broke out openly. They thought of Jacques being + innocent, and yet treated like one of the worst criminals, alone in the + depth of his prison, given up to the most horrible inspirations of + despair. What could have been his feelings during the twenty-four hours + which had brought him no news from his friends? Must he not fancy himself + despised and abandoned. + </p> + <p> + “That is an intolerable thought!” exclaimed Dionysia at lat. “We must get + to him at any price.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” asked the marchioness. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know; but there must be some way. There are things which I would + not have ventured upon as long as I was alone; but, with you by my side, I + can risk any thing. Let us go to the prison.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady promptly put a shawl around her shoulders, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I am ready; let us go.” + </p> + <p> + They had both heard repeatedly that Jacques was kept in close confinement; + but neither of them realized fully what that meant. They had no idea of + this atrocious measure, which is, nevertheless, rendered necessary by the + peculiar forms of French law-proceedings,—a measure which, so to + say, immures a man alive, and leaves him in his cell alone with the crime + with which he is charged, and utterly at the mercy of another man, whose + duty it is to extort the truth from him. The two ladies only saw the want + of liberty, a cell with its dismal outfittings, the bars at the window, + the bolts at the door, the jailer shaking his bunch of keys at his belt, + and the tramp of the solitary sentinel in the long passages. + </p> + <p> + “They cannot refuse me permission,” said the old lady, “to see my son.” + </p> + <p> + “They cannot,” repeated Dionysia. “And, besides, I know the jailer, + Blangin: his wife was formerly in our service.” + </p> + <p> + When the young girl, therefore, raised the heavy knocker at the + prison-door, she was full of cheerful confidence. Blangin himself came to + the door; and, at the sight of the two poor ladies, his broad face + displayed the utmost astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “We come to see M. de Boiscoran,” said Dionysia boldly. + </p> + <p> + “Have you a permit, ladies?” asked the keeper. + </p> + <p> + “From whom?” + </p> + <p> + “From M. Galpin.” + </p> + <p> + “We have no permit.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I am very sorry to have to tell you, ladies, that you cannot + possibly see M. de Boiscoran. He is kept in close confinement, and I have + the strictest orders.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia looked threatening, and said sharply,— + </p> + <p> + “Your orders cannot apply to this lady, who is the Marchioness de + Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “My orders apply to everybody, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “You would not, I am sure, keep a poor, distressed mother from seeing her + son!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! but—madam—it does not rest with me. I? Who am I? Nothing + more than one of the bolts, drawn or pushed at will.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time, it entered the poor girl’s head that her effort might + fail: still she tried once more, with tears in her eyes,— + </p> + <p> + “But I, my dear M. Blangin, think of me! You would not refuse me? Don’t + you know who I am? Have you never heard your wife speak of me?” + </p> + <p> + The jailer was certainly touched. He replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I know how much my wife and myself are indebted to your kindness, madam. + But—I have my orders, and you surely would not want me to lose my + place, madam?” + </p> + <p> + “If you lose your place, M. Blangin, I, Dionysia de Chandore, promise you + another place twice as good.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame!” + </p> + <p> + “You do not doubt my word, M. Blangin, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid, madam! But it is not my place only. If I did what you want me + to do, I should be severely punished.” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness judged from the jailer’s tone that Dionysia was not likely + to prevail over him, and so she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Don’t insist, my child. Let us go back.” + </p> + <p> + “What? Without finding out what is going on behind these pitiless walls; + without knowing even whether Jacques is dead or alive?” + </p> + <p> + There was evidently a great struggle going on in the jailer’s heart. All + of a sudden he cast a rapid glance around, and then said, speaking very + hurriedly,— + </p> + <p> + “I ought not to tell you—but never mind—I cannot let you go + away without telling you that M. de Boiscoran is quite well.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday, when they brought him here, he was, so to say, overcome. He + threw himself upon his bed, and he remained there without stirring for + over two hours. I think he must have been crying.” + </p> + <p> + A sob, which Dionysia could not suppress, made Blangin start. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, reassure yourself, madame!” he added quickly. “That state of things + did not last long. Soon M. de Boiscoran got up, and said, ‘Why, I am a + fool to despair!’” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear him say so?” asked the old lady. + </p> + <p> + “Not I. It was Trumence who heard it.” + </p> + <p> + “Trumence?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, one of our jail-birds. Oh! he is only a vagabond, not bad at all; + and he has been ordered to stand guard at the door of M. de Boiscoran’s + cell, and not for a moment to lose sight of it. It was M. Galpin who had + that idea, because the prisoners sometimes in their first despair,—a + misfortune happens so easily,—they become weary of life—Trumence + would be there to prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady trembled with horror. This precautionary measure, more than + any thing else, gave her the full measure of her son’s situation. + </p> + <p> + “However,” M. Blangin went on, “there is nothing to fear. M. de Boiscoran + became quite calm again, and even cheerful, if I may say so. When he got + up this morning, after having slept all night like a dormouse, he sent for + me, and asked me for paper, ink, and pen. All the prisoners ask for that + the second day. I had orders to let him have it, and so I gave it to him. + When I carried him his breakfast, he handed me a letter for Miss + Chandore.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Dionysia, “you have a letter for me, and you don’t give it + to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not have it now, madam. I had to hand it, as is my duty, to M. + Galpin, when he came accompanied by his clerk, Mechinet, to examine M. de + Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “He opened the letter, read it, put it into his pocket, and said, ‘Well.’” + </p> + <p> + Tears of anger this time sprang from Dionysia’s eyes; and she cried,— + </p> + <p> + “What a shame? This man reads a letter written by Jacques to me! That is + infamous!” + </p> + <p> + And, without thinking of thanking Blangin, she drew off the old lady, and + all the way home did not say a word. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, poor child, you did not succeed,” exclaimed the two old aunts, when + they saw their niece come back. + </p> + <p> + But, when they had heard every thing, they said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, we’ll go and see him, this little magistrate, who but the day + before yesterday was paying us abject court to obtain the hand of our + cousin. And we’ll tell him the truth; and, if we cannot make him give us + back Jacques, we will at least trouble him in his triumph, and take down + his pride.” + </p> + <p> + How could poor Dionysia help adopting the notions of the old ladies, when + their project offered such immediate satisfaction to her indignation, and + at the same time served her secret hopes? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! You are right, dear aunts,” she said. “Quick, don’t lose any + time; go at once!” + </p> + <p> + Unable to resist her entreaties, they started instantly, without listening + to the timid objections made by the marchioness. But the good ladies were + sadly mistaken as to the state of mind of M. Galpin. The ex-lover of one + of their cousins was not bedded on roses by any means. At the beginning of + this extraordinary affair he had taken hold of it with eagerness, looking + upon it as an admirable opportunity, long looked for, and likely to open + wide the doors to his burning ambition. Then having once begun, and the + investigation being under way, he had been carried away by the current, + without having time to reflect. He had even felt a kind of unhealthy + satisfaction at seeing the evidence increasing, until he felt justified + and compelled to order his former friend to be sent to prison. At that + time he was fairly dazzled by the most magnificent expectations. This + preliminary inquiry, which in a few hours already had led to the discovery + of a culprit the most unlikely of all men in the province, could not fail + to establish his superior ability and matchless skill. + </p> + <p> + But, a few hours later, M. Galpin looked no longer with the same eye upon + these events. Reflection had come; and he had begun to doubt his ability, + and to ask himself, if he had not, after all, acted rashly. If Jacques was + guilty, so much the better. He was sure, in that case, immediately after + the verdict, to obtain brilliant promotion. Yes, but if Jacques should be + innocent? When that thought occurred to M. Galpin for the first time, it + made him shiver to the marrow of his bones. Jacques innocent!—that + was his own condemnation, his career ended, his hopes destroyed, his + prospects ruined forever. Jacques innocent!—that was certain + disgrace. He would be sent away from Sauveterre, where he could not remain + after such a scandal. He would be banished to some out-of-the-way village, + and without hope of promotion. + </p> + <p> + In vain he tried to reason that he had only done his duty. People would + answer, if they condescended at all to answer, that there are flagrant + blunders, scandalous mistakes, which a magistrate must not commit; and + that for the honor of justice, and in the interest of the law, it is + better, under certain circumstances, to let a guilty man escape, than to + punish an innocent one. + </p> + <p> + With such anxiety on his mind, the most cruel that can tear the heart of + an ambitious man, M. Galpin found his pillow stuffed with thorns. He had + been up since six o’clock. At eleven, he had sent for his clerk, Mechinet; + and they had gone together to the jail to recommence the examination. It + was then that the jailer had handed him the prisoner’s letter for + Dionysia. It was a short note, such as a sensible man would write who + knows full well that a prisoner cannot count upon the secrecy of his + correspondence. It was not even sealed, a fact which M. Blangin had not + noticed. + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia, my darling,” wrote the prisoner, “the thought of the terrible + grief I cause you is my most cruel, and almost my only sorrow. Need I + stoop to assure you that I am innocent? I am sure it is not needed. I am + the victim of a fatal combination of circumstances, which could not but + mislead justice. But be reassured, be hopeful. When the time comes, I + shall be able to set matters right. + </p> + <p> + “JACQUES.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” M. Galpin had really said after reading this letter. Nevertheless + it had stung him to the quick. + </p> + <p> + “What assurance!” he had said to himself. + </p> + <p> + Still he had regained courage while ascending the steps of the prison. + Jacques had evidently not thought it likely that his note would reach its + destination directly, and hence it might be fairly presumed that he had + written for the eyes of justice as well as for his lady-love. The fact + that the letter was not sealed even, gave some weight to this presumption. + </p> + <p> + “After all we shall see,” said M. Galpin, while Blangin was unlocking the + door. + </p> + <p> + But he found Jacques as calm as if he had been in his chateau at + Boiscoran, haughty and even scornful. It was impossible to get any thing + out of him. When he was pressed, he became obstinately silent, or said + that he needed time to consider. The magistrate had returned home more + troubled than ever. The position assumed by Jacques puzzled him. Ah, if he + could have retraced his steps! + </p> + <p> + But it was too late. He had burnt his vessels, and condemned himself to go + on to the end. For his own safety, for his future life, it was henceforth + necessary that Jacques de Boiscoran should be found guilty; that he should + be tried in open court, and there be sentenced. It must be. It was a + question of life or death for him. + </p> + <p> + He was in this state of mind when the two Misses Lavarande called at his + house, and asked to see him. He shook himself; and in an instant his + over-excited mind presented to him all possible contingencies. What could + the two old ladies want of him? + </p> + <p> + “Show them in,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + They came in, and haughtily declined the chairs that were offered. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly expected to have the honor of a visit from you, ladies,” he + commenced. + </p> + <p> + The older of the two, Miss Adelaide, cut him short, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “I suppose not, after what has passed.” + </p> + <p> + And thereupon, speaking with all the eloquence of a pious woman who is + trying to wither an impious man, she poured upon him a stream of + reproaches for what she called his infamous treachery. What? How could he + appear against Jacques, who was his friend, and who had actually aided him + in obtaining the promise of a great match. By that one hope he had become, + so to say, a member of the family. Did he not know that among kinsmen it + was a sacred duty to set aside all personal feelings for the purpose of + protecting that sacred patrimony called family honor? + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin felt like a man upon whom a handful of stones falls from the + fifth story of a house. Still he preserved his self-control, and even + asked himself what advantage he might obtain from this extraordinary + scene. Might it open a door for reconciliation? + </p> + <p> + As soon, therefore, as Miss Adelaide stopped, he began justifying himself, + painting in hypocritical colors the grief it had given him, swearing that + he was able to control the events, and that Jacques was as dear to him now + as ever. + </p> + <p> + “If he is so dear to you,” broke in Miss Adelaide, “why don’t you set him + free?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how can I?” + </p> + <p> + “At least give his family and his friends leave to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “The law will not let me. If he is innocent, he has only to prove it. If + he is guilty, he must confess. In the first case, he will be set free; in + the other case, he can see whom he wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is so dear to you, how could you dare read the letter he had + written to Dionysia?” + </p> + <p> + “It is one of the most painful duties of my profession to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! And does that profession also prevent you from giving us that letter + after having read it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. But I may tell you what is in it.” + </p> + <p> + He took it out of a drawer, and the younger of the two sisters, Miss + Elizabeth, copied it in pencil. Then they withdrew, almost without saying + good-by. + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin was furious. He exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, old witches! I see clearly you do not believe in Jacques’s innocence. + Why else should his family be so very anxious to see him? No doubt they + want to enable him to escape by suicide the punishment of his crime. But, + by the great God, that shall not be, if I can help it!” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was, as we have seen, excessively annoyed at this step taken by + the Misses Lavarande; but he did not let it be seen. It was very necessary + that he at least should retain perfect presence of mind and calmness in + this cruelly tried family. M. de Chandore, on the other hand, could not + conceal his dissatisfaction so well; and, in spite of his deference to his + grandchild’s wishes, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, my dear child, I don’t wish to blame you. But you know your + aunts, and you know, also, how uncompromising they are. They are quite + capable of exasperating M. Galpin.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it matter?” asked the young girl haughtily. “Circumspection is + all very well for guilty people; but Jacques is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Chandore is right,” said M. Folgat, who seemed to succumb to + Dionysia like the rest of the family. “Whatever the ladies may have done, + they cannot make matters worse. M. Galpin will be none the less our bitter + enemy.” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore started. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “But”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I do not blame him,” broke in the young lawyer; “but I blame the laws + which make him act as he does. How can a magistrate remain perfectly + impartial in certain very important cases, like this one, when his whole + future career depends upon his success? A man may be a most upright + magistrate, incapable of unfairness, and conscientious in fulfilling all + his duties, and yet he is but a man. He has his interest at stake. He does + not like the court to find that that there is no case. The great rewards + are not always given to the lawyer who has taken most pains to find out + the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “But M. Galpin was a friend of ours, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and that is what makes me fear. What will be his fate on the day + when M. Jacques’s innocence is established?” + </p> + <p> + They were just coming home, quite proud of their achievement, and waving + in triumph the copy of Jacques’s letter. Dionysia seized upon it; and, + while she read it aside, Miss Adelaide described the interview, stating + how haughty and disdainful she had been, and how humble and repentant M. + Galpin had seemed to be. + </p> + <p> + “He was completely undone,” said the two old ladies with one voice: “he + was crushed, annihilated.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have done a nice thing,” growled the old baron; “and you have + much reason to boast, forsooth.” + </p> + <p> + “My aunts have done well,” declared Dionysia. “Just see what Jacques has + written! It is clear and precise. What can we fear when he says, ‘Be + reassured: when the time comes, I shall be able to set matters right’?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat took the letter, read it, and shook his head. Then he said,— + </p> + <p> + “There was no need of this letter to confirm my opinion. At the bottom of + this affair there is a secret which none of us have found out yet. But M. + de Boiscoran acts very rashly in playing in this way with a criminal + prosecution. Why did he not explain at once? What was easy yesterday may + be less easy to-morrow, and perhaps impossible in a week.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, sir, is a superior man,” cried Dionysia, “and whatever he says + is perfectly sure to be the right thing.” + </p> + <p> + His mother’s entrance prevented the young lawyer from making any reply. + Two hours’ rest had restored to the old lady a part of her energy, and her + usual presence of mind; and she now asked that a telegram should be sent + to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “It is the least we can do,” said M. de Chandore in an undertone, + “although it will be useless, I dare say. Boiscoran does not care that + much for his son. Pshaw! Ah! if it was a rare <i>faience</i>, or a plate + that is wanting in his collection, then would it be a very different + story.” + </p> + <p> + Still the despatch was drawn up and sent, at the very moment when a + servant came in, and announced that dinner was ready. The meal was less + sad than they had anticipated. Everybody, to be sure, felt a heaviness at + heart as he thought that at the same hour a jailer probably brought + Jacques his meal to his cell; nor could Dionysia keep from dropping a tear + when she saw M. Folgat sitting in her lover’s place. But no one, except + the young advocate, thought that Jacques was in real danger. + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal, however, who came in just as coffee was handed round, + evidently shared M. Folgat’s apprehensions. The good mayor came to hear + the news, and to tell his friends how he had spent the day. The funeral of + the firemen had passed off quietly, although amid deep emotion. No + disturbance had taken place, as was feared; and Dr. Seignebos had not + spoken at the graveyard. Both a disturbance and a row would have been + badly received, said M. Seneschal; for he was sorry to say, the immense + majority of the people of Sauveterre did not doubt M. de Boiscoran’s + guilt. In several groups he had heard people say, “And still you will see + they will not condemn him. A poor devil who should commit such a horrible + crime would be hanged sure enough; but the son of the Marquis de Boiscoran—you + will see, he’ll come out of it as white as snow.” + </p> + <p> + The rolling of a carriage, which stopped at the door, fortunately + interrupted him at this point. + </p> + <p> + “Who can that be?” asked Dionysia, half frightened. + </p> + <p> + They heard in the passage the noise of steps and voices, something like a + scuffle; and almost instantly the tenant’s son Michael pushed open the + door of the sitting-room, crying out,— + </p> + <p> + “I have gotten him! Here he is!” + </p> + <p> + And with these words he pushed in Cocoleu, all struggling, and looking + around him, like a wild beast caught in a trap. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, my good fellow,” said M. Seneschal, “you have done better + than the gendarmes!” + </p> + <p> + The manner in which Michael winked with his eye showed that he had not a + very exalted opinion of the cleverness of the gendarmes. + </p> + <p> + “I promised the baron,” he said, “I would get hold of Cocoleu somehow or + other. I knew that at certain times he went and buried himself, like the + wild beast that he is, in a hole which he has scratched under a rock in + the densest part of the forest of Rochepommier. I had discovered this den + of his one day by accident; for a man might pass by a hundred times, and + never dream of where it was. But, as soon as the baron told me that the + innocent had disappeared, I said to myself, ‘I am sure he is in his hole: + let us go and see.’ So I gathered up my legs; I ran down to the rocks: and + there was Cocoleu. But it was not so easy to pull him out of his den. He + would not come; and, while defending himself, he bit me in the hand, like + the mad dog that he is.” + </p> + <p> + And Michael held up his left hand, wrapped up in a bloody piece of linen. + </p> + <p> + “It was pretty hard work to get the madman here. I was compelled to tie + him hand and foot, and to carry him bodily to my father’s house. There we + put him into the little carriage, and here he is. Just look at the pretty + fellow!” + </p> + <p> + He was hideous at that moment, with his livid face spotted all over with + red marks, his hanging lips covered with white foam, and his brutish + glances. + </p> + <p> + “Why would you not come?” asked M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + The idiot looked as if he did not hear. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you bite Michael?” continued the mayor. + </p> + <p> + Cocoleu made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that M. de Boiscoran is in prison because of what you have + said?” + </p> + <p> + Still no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Michael, “it is of no use to question him. You might beat him + till to-morrow, and he would rather give up the ghost than say a word.” + </p> + <p> + “I am—I am hungry,” stammered Cocoleu. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat looked indignant. + </p> + <p> + “And to think,” he said, “that, upon the testimony of such a thing, a + capital charge has been made!” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore seemed to be seriously embarrassed. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “But now, what in the world are we to do with the idiot?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to take him,” said M. Seneschal, “to the hospital. I will go + with him myself, and let Dr. Seignebos know, and the commonwealth + attorney.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos was an eccentric man, beyond doubt; and the absurd stories + which his enemies attributed to him were not all unfounded. But he had, at + all events, the rare quality of professing for his art, as he called it, a + respect very nearly akin to enthusiasm. According to his views, the + faculty were infallible, as much so as the pope, whom he denied. He would, + to be sure, in confidence, admit that some of his colleagues were amazing + donkeys; but he would never have allowed any one else to say so in his + presence. From the moment that a man possessed the famous diploma which + gives him the right over life and death, that man became in his eyes an + august personage for the world at large. It was a crime, he thought, not + to submit blindly to the decision of a physician. Hence his obstinacy in + opposing M. Galpin, hence the bitterness of his contradictions, and the + rudeness with which he had requested the “gentlemen of the law” to leave + the room in which <i>his</i> patient was lying. + </p> + <p> + “For these devils,” he said, “would kill one man in order to get the means + of cutting off another man’s head.” + </p> + <p> + And thereupon, resuming his probes and his sponge, he had gone to work + once more, with the aid of the countess, digging out grain by grain the + lead which had honeycombed the flesh of the count. At nine o’clock the + work was done. + </p> + <p> + “Not that I fancy I have gotten them all out,” he said modestly, “but, if + there is any thing left, it is out of reach, and I shall have to wait for + certain symptoms which will tell me where they are.” + </p> + <p> + As he had foreseen, the count had grown rather worse. His first excitement + had given way to perfect prostration; and he seemed to be insensible to + what was going on around him. Fever began to show itself; and, considering + the count’s constitution, it was easily to be foreseen that delirium would + set in before the day was out. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, I think there is hardly any danger,” said the doctor to the + countess, after having pointed out to her all the probable symptoms, so as + to keep her from being alarmed. Then he recommended to her to let no one + approach her husband’s bed, and M. Galpin least of all. + </p> + <p> + This recommendation was not useless; for almost at the same moment a + peasant came in to say that there was a man from Sauveterre at the door + who wished to see the count. + </p> + <p> + “Show him in,” said the doctor; “I’ll speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + It was a man called Tetard, a former constable, who had given up his + place, and become a dealer in stones. But besides being a former officer + of justice and a merchant, as his cards told the world, he was also the + agent of a fire insurance company. It was in this capacity that he + presumed, as he told the countess, to present himself in person. He had + been informed that the farm buildings at Valpinson, which were insured in + his company, had been destroyed by fire; that they had been purposely set + on fire by M. de Boiscoran; and that he wished to confer with Count + Claudieuse on the subject. Far from him, he added, to decline the + responsibility of his company: he only wished to establish the facts which + would enable him to fall back upon M. de Boiscoran, who was a man of + fortune, and would certainly be condemned to make compensation for the + injury done. For this purpose, certain formalities had to be attended to; + and he had come to arrange with Count Claudieuse the necessary measures. + </p> + <p> + “And I,” said Dr. Seignebos,—“I request you to take to your heels.” + He added with a thundering voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I think you are very bold to dare to speak in that way of M. de + Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + M. Tetard disappeared without saying another word; and the doctor, very + much excited by this scene, turned to the youngest daughter of the + countess, the one with whom she was sitting up when the fire broke out, + and who was now decidedly better: after that nothing could keep him at + Valpinson. He carefully pocketed the pieces of lead which he had taken + from the count’s wounds, and then, drawing the countess out to the door, + he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Before I go away, madam, I should like to know what you think of these + events.” + </p> + <p> + The poor lady, who looked as pale as death itself, could hardly hold up + any longer. There seemed to be nothing alive in her but her eyes, which + were lighted up with unusual brilliancy. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I do not know, sir,” she replied in a feeble voice. “How can I + collect my thoughts after such terrible shocks?” + </p> + <p> + “Still you questioned Cocoleu.” + </p> + <p> + “Who would not have done so, when the truth was at stake?” + </p> + <p> + “And you were not surprised at the name he mentioned?” + </p> + <p> + “You must have seen, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I saw; and that is exactly why I ask you, and why I want to know what you + really think of the state of mind of the poor creature.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know that he is idiotic?” + </p> + <p> + “I know; and that is why I was so surprised to see you insist upon making + him talk. Do you really think, that, in spite of his habitual imbecility, + he may have glimpses of sense?” + </p> + <p> + “He had, a few moments before, saved my children from death.” + </p> + <p> + “That proves his devotion for you.” + </p> + <p> + “He is very much attached to me indeed, just like a poor animal that I + might have picked up and cared for.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so. And still he showed more than mere animal instinct.” + </p> + <p> + “That may well be so. I have more than once noticed flashes of + intelligence in Cocoleu.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them furiously. + </p> + <p> + “It is a great pity that one of these flashes of intelligence did not + enlighten him when he saw M. de Boiscoran make a fire and get ready to + murder Count Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + The countess leaned against the door-posts, as if about to faint. + </p> + <p> + “But it is exactly to his excitement at the sight of the flames, and at + hearing the shots fired, that I ascribe Cocoleu’s return to reason.” + </p> + <p> + “May be,” said the doctor, “may be.” + </p> + <p> + Then putting on his spectacles again, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “That is a question to be decided by the professional men who will have to + examine the poor imbecile creature.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Is he going to be examined?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and very thoroughly, madam, I tell you. And now I have the honor of + wishing you good-bye. However, I shall come back to-night, unless you + should succeed during the day in finding lodgings in Sauveterre,—an + arrangement which would be very desirable for myself, in the first place, + and not less so for your husband and your daughter. They are not + comfortable in this cottage.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he lifted his hat, returned to town, and immediately asked M. + Seneschal in the most imperious manner to have Cocoleu arrested. + Unfortunately the gendarmes had been unsuccessful; and Dr. Seignebos, who + saw how unfortunate all this was for Jacques, began to get terribly + impatient, when on Saturday night, towards ten o’clock, M. Seneschal came + in, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Cocoleu is found.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor jumped up, and in a moment his hat on his head, and stick in + hand, asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “At the hospital. I have seen him myself put into a separate room.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going there.” + </p> + <p> + “What, at this hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Am I not one of the hospital physicians? And is it not open to me by + night and by day?” + </p> + <p> + “The sisters will be in bed.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor shrugged his shoulders furiously; then he said,— + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, it would be a sacrilege to break the slumbers of these good + sisters, these dear sisters, as you say. Ah, my dear mayor! When shall we + have laymen for our hospitals? And when will you put good stout nurses in + the place of these holy damsels?” + </p> + <p> + M. Seneschal had too often discussed that subject with the doctor, to open + it anew. He kept silent, and that was wise; for Dr. Seignebos sat down, + saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I must wait till to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + VI. + </p> + <p> + “The hospital in Sauveterre,” says the guide book, “is, in spite of its + limited size, one of the best institutions of the kind in the department. + The chapel and the new additions were built at the expense of the Countess + de Maupaison, the widow of one of the ministers of Louis Philippe.” + </p> + <p> + But what the guide book does not say is, that the hospital was endowed + with three free beds for pregnant women, by Mrs. Seneschal, or that the + two wings on both sides of the great entrance-gate have also been built by + her liberality. One of these wings, the one on the right, is used by the + janitor, a fine-looking old man, who formerly was beadle at the cathedral, + and who loves to think of the happy days when he added to the splendor of + the church by his magnificent presence, his red uniform, his gold + bandelaire, his halbert, and his gold-headed cane. + </p> + <p> + This janitor was, on Sunday morning, a little before eight o’clock, + smoking his pipe in the yard, when he saw Dr. Seignebos coming in. The + doctor was walking faster than usual, his hat over his face, and his hands + thrust deep into his pockets, evident signs of a storm. Instead of coming, + as he did every day before making the rounds, into the office of the + sister-druggist, he went straight up to the room of the lady superior. + There, after the usual salutations, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “They have no doubt brought you, my sister, last night, a patient, an + idiot, called Cocoleu?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Where has he been put?” + </p> + <p> + “The mayor saw him himself put into the little room opposite the linen + room.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did he behave?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly well: the sister who kept the watch did not hear him stir.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, my sister!” said Dr. Seignebos. + </p> + <p> + He was already in the door, when the lady superior recalled him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to see the poor man, doctor?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my sister; why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you cannot see him.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot?” + </p> + <p> + “No. The commonwealth attorney has sent us orders not to let any one, + except the sister who nurses him, come near Cocoleu,—no one, doctor, + not even the physician, a case of urgency, of course, excepted.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos smiled ironically. Then he said, laughing scornfully,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, these are your orders, are they? Well, I tell you that I do not mind + them in the least. Who can prevent me from seeing my patient? Tell me + that! Let the commonwealth attorney give his orders in his court-house as + much as he chooses: that is all right. But in my hospital! My sister, I am + going to Cocoleu’s room.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, you cannot go there. There is a gendarme at the door.” + </p> + <p> + “A gendarme?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he came this morning with the strictest orders.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment the doctor was overcome. Then he suddenly broke out with + unusual violence, and a voice that made the windows shake,— + </p> + <p> + “This is unheard of! This is an abominable abuse of power! I’ll have my + rights, and justice shall be done me, if I have to go to Thiers!” + </p> + <p> + Then he rushed out without ceremony, crossed the yard, and disappeared + like an arrow, in the direction of the court-house. At that very moment M. + Daubigeon was getting up, feeling badly because he had had a bad, + sleepless night, thanks to this unfortunate affair of M. de Boiscoran, + which troubled him sorely; for he was almost of M. Galpin’s opinion. In + vain he recalled Jacques’s noble character, his well-known uprightness, + his keen sense of honor, the evidence was so strong, so overwhelming! He + wanted to doubt; but experience told him that a man’s past is no guarantee + for his future. And, besides, like many great criminal lawyers, he + thought, what he would never have ventured to say openly, that some great + criminals act while they are under the influence of a kind of vertigo, and + that this explains the stupidity of certain crimes committed by men of + superior intelligence. + </p> + <p> + Since his return from Boiscoran, he had kept close in his house; and he + had just made up his mind not to leave the house that day, when some one + rang his bell furiously. A moment later Dr. Seignebos fell into the room + like a bombshell. + </p> + <p> + “I know what brings you, doctor,” said M. Daubigeon. “You come about that + order I have given concerning Cocoleu.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, sir! That order is an insult.” + </p> + <p> + “I have been asked to give it as a matter of necessity, by M. Galpin.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you not refuse? You alone are responsible for it in my eyes. + You are commonwealth attorney, consequently the head of the bar, and + superior to M. Galpin.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon shook his head and said,— + </p> + <p> + “There you are mistaken, doctor. The magistrate in such a case is + independent of myself and of the court. He is not even bound to obey the + attorney-general, who can make suggestions to him, but cannot give him + orders. M. Galpin, in his capacity as examining magistrate, has his + independent jurisdiction, and is armed with almost unlimited power. No one + in the world can say so well as an examining magistrate what the poet + calls,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Such is my will, such are my orders, and my will is sufficient.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Hoc volo, hoc jubeo, sit pro ratione voluntas.’” + </p> + <p> + For once Dr. Seignebos seemed to be convinced by M. Daubigeon’s words. He + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Then, M. Galpin has even the right to deprive a sick man of his + physician’s assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “If he assumes the responsibility, yes. But he does not mean to go so far. + He was, on the contrary, about to ask you, although it is Sunday, to come + and be present at a second examination of Cocoleu. I am surprised that you + have not received his note, and that you did not meet him at the + hospital.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am going at once.” + </p> + <p> + And he went back hurriedly, and was glad he had done so; for at the door + of the hospital he came face to face against M. Galpin, who was just + coming in, accompanied by his faithful clerk, Mechinet. + </p> + <p> + “You came just in time, doctor,” began the magistrate, with his usual + solemnity. + </p> + <p> + But, short and rapid as the doctor’s walk had been, it had given him time + to reflect, and to grow cool. Instead of breaking out into recriminations, + he replied in a tone of mock politeness,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. It is that poor devil to whom you have given a gendarme for + a nurse. Let us go up: I am at your service.” + </p> + <p> + The room in which Cocoleu had been put was large, whitewashed, and empty, + except that a bed, a table and two chairs, stood about. The bed was no + doubt a good one; but the idiot had taken off the mattress and the + blankets, and lain down in his clothes on the straw bed. Thus the + magistrate and the physician found him as they entered. He rose at their + appearance; but, when he saw the gendarme, he uttered a cry, and tried to + hide under the bed. M. Galpin ordered the gendarme to pull him out again. + Then he walked up to him, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be afraid, Cocoleu. We want to do you no harm; only you must answer + our questions. Do you recollect what happened the other night at + Valpinson?” + </p> + <p> + Cocoleu laughed,—the laugh of an idiot,—but he made no reply. + And then, for a whole hour, begging, threatening, and promising by turns, + the magistrate tried in vain to obtain one word from him. Not even the + name of the Countess Claudieuse had the slightest effect. At last, utterly + out of patience, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us go. The wretch is worse than a brute.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he any better,” asked the doctor, “when he denounced M. de + Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + But the magistrate pretended not to hear; and, when they were about to + leave the room, he said to the doctor,— + </p> + <p> + “You know that I expect your report, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “In forty-eight hours I shall have the honor to hand it to you,” replied + the latter. + </p> + <p> + But as he went off, he said half aloud,— + </p> + <p> + “And that report is going to give you some trouble, my good man.” + </p> + <p> + The report was ready then, and his reason for not giving it in, was that + he thought, the longer he could delay it, the more chance he would + probably have to defeat the plan of the prosecution. + </p> + <p> + “As I mean to keep it two days longer,” he thought on his way home, “why + should I not show it to this Paris lawyer who has come down with the + marchioness? Nothing can prevent me, as far as I see, since that poor + Galpin, in his utter confusion, has forgotten to put me under oath.” + </p> + <p> + But he paused. According to the laws of medical jurisprudence, had he the + right, or not, to communicate a paper belonging to the case to the counsel + of the accused? This question troubled him; for, although he boasted that + he did not believe in God, he believed firmly in professional duty, and + would have allowed himself to be cut in pieces rather than break its laws. + </p> + <p> + “But I have clearly the right to do so,” he growled. “I can only be bound + by my oath. The authorities are clear on that subject. I have in my favor + the decisions of the Court of Appeals of 27 November, and 27 December, + 1828; those of the 13th June, 1835; of the 3d May, 1844; of the 26th June, + 1866.” + </p> + <p> + The result of this mediation was, that, as soon as he had breakfasted, he + put his report in his pocket, and went by side streets to M. de Chandore’s + house. The marchioness and the two aunts were still at church, where they + had thought it best to show themselves; and there was no one in the + sitting-room but Dionysia, the old baron, and M. Folgat. The old gentleman + was very much surprised to see the doctor. The latter was his family + physician, it is true; but, except in cases of sickness, the two never saw + each other, their political opinions were so very different. + </p> + <p> + “If you see me here,” said the physician, still in the door, “it is simply + because, upon my honor and my conscience, I believe M. Boiscoran is + innocent.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia would have liked to embrace the doctor for these words of his; + and with the greatest eagerness she pushed a large easy-chair towards him, + and said in her sweetest voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Pray sit down, my dear doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” he answered bruskly. “I am very much obliged to you.” Then + turning to M. Folgat, he said, according to his odd notion,— + </p> + <p> + “I am convinced that M. Boiscoran is the victim of his republican opinions + which he has so boldly professed; for, baron, your future son-in-law is a + republican.” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore did not move. If they had come and told him Jacques had + been a member of the Commune, he would not have been any more moved. + Dionysia loved Jacques. That was enough for him. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” the doctor went on, “I am a Radical, I, M.”— + </p> + <p> + “Folgat,” supplied the young lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, M. Folgat, I am a Radical; and it is my duty to defend a man whose + political opinions so closely resemble mine. I come, therefore, to show + you my medical report, if you can make any use of it in your defence of M. + Boiscoran, or suggest to me any ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the young man. “That is a very valuable service.” + </p> + <p> + “But let us understand each other,” said the physician earnestly. “If I + speak of listening to your suggestions, I take it for granted that they + are based upon facts. If I had a son, and he was to die on the scaffold I + would not use the slightest falsehood to save him.” + </p> + <p> + He had, meanwhile, drawn the report from a pocket in his long coat, and + now put in on the table with these words,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall call for it again to-morrow morning. In the meantime you can + think it over. I should like, however, to point out to you the main point, + the culminating point, if I may say so.” + </p> + <p> + At all events he was “saying so” with much hesitation, and looking fixedly + at Dionysia as if to make her understand that he would like her to leave + the room. Seeing that she did not take the hint, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “A medical and legal discussion would hardly interest the young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, why, should I not be deeply, passionately, interested in any + thing that regards the man who is to be my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Because ladies are generally very sensational,” said the doctor + uncivilly, “very sensitive.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t think so, doctor. For Jacques’s sake, I promise you I will show you + quite masculine energy.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor knew Dionysia well enough to see that she did not mean to go: + so he growled,— + </p> + <p> + “As you like it.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning again to M. Folgat, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “You know there were two shots fired at Count Claudieuse. One, which hit + him in the side, nearly missed him; the other, which struck his shoulder + and his neck, hit well.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said the advocate. + </p> + <p> + “The difference in the effect shows that the two shots were fired from + different distances, the second much nearer than the first.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know!” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me. If I refer to these details, it is because they are important. + When I was sent for in the middle of the night to come and see Count + Claudieuse, I at once set to work extracting the particles of lead that + had lodged in his flesh. While I was thus busy, M. Galpin arrived. I + expected he would ask me to show him the shot: but no, he did not think of + it; he was too full of his own ideas. He thought only of the culprit, of + <i>his</i> culprit. I did not recall to him the A B C of his profession: + that was none of my business. The physician has to obey the directions of + justice, but not to anticipate them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then M. Galpin went off to Boiscoran, and I completed my work. I have + extracted fifty-seven shot from the count’s wound in the side, and a + hundred and nine from the wound on the shoulder and the neck; and, when I + had done that, do you know what I found out?” + </p> + <p> + He paused, waiting to see the effect of his words; and, when everybody’s + attention seemed to him fully roused, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “I found out that the shot in the two wounds was not alike.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore and M. Folgat exclaimed at one time,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “The shot that was first fired,” continued Dr. Seignebos, “and which has + touched the side, is the very smallest sized ‘dust.’ That in the shoulder, + on the other hand, is quite large sized, such as I think is used in + shooting hares. However, I have some samples.” + </p> + <p> + And with these words, he opened a piece of white paper, in which were ten + or twelve pieces of lead, stained with coagulated blood, and showing at + once a considerable difference in size. M. Folgat looked puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Could there have been two murderers?” he asked half aloud. + </p> + <p> + “I rather think,” said M. de Chandore, “that the murderer had, like many + sportsmen, one barrel ready for birds, and another for hares or rabbits.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events, this fact puts all premeditation out of question. A man + does not load his gun with small-shot in order to commit murder.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos thought he had said enough about it, and was rising to take + leave, when M. de Chandore asked him how Count Claudieuse was doing. + </p> + <p> + “He is not doing well,” replied the doctor. “The removal, in spite of all + possible precautions, has worn him out completely; for he is here in + Sauveterre since yesterday, in a house which M. Seneschal has rented for + him provisionally. He has been delirious all night through; and, when I + came to see him this morning, I do not think he knew me.” + </p> + <p> + “And the countess?” asked Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “The countess, madam, is quite as sick as her husband, and, if she had + listened to me, she would have gone to bed, too. But she is a woman of + uncommon energy, who derives from her affection for her husband an almost + incomprehensible power of resistance. As to Cocoleu,” he added, standing + already near the door, “an examination of his mental condition might + produce results which no one seems to expect now. But we will talk of that + hereafter. And now, I must bid you all good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked Dionysia and M. de Chandore, as soon as they had heard the + street door close behind Dr. Seignebos. + </p> + <p> + But M. Folgat’s enthusiasm had cooled off very rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “Before giving an opinion,” he said cautiously, “I must study the report + of this estimable doctor.” + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, the report contained nothing that the doctor had not + mentioned. In vain did the young advocate try all the afternoon to find + something in it that might be useful for the defence. There were arguments + in it, to be sure, which might be very valuable when the trial should come + on, but nothing that could be used to make the prosecution give up the + case. + </p> + <p> + The whole house was, therefore, cruelly disappointed and dejected, when, + about five o’clock, old Anthony came in from Boiscoran. He looked very + sad, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I have been relieved of my duties. At two o’clock M. Galpin came to take + off the seals. He was accompanied by his clerk Mechinet, and brought + Master Jacques with him, who was guarded by two gendarmes in citizen’s + clothes. When the room was opened, that unlucky man Galpin asked Master + Jacques if those were the clothes which he wore the night of the fire, his + boots, his gun, and the water in which he washed his hands. When he had + acknowledged every thing, the water was carefully poured into a bottle, + which they sealed, and handed to one of the gendarmes. Then they put + master’s clothes in a large trunk, his gun, several parcels of cartridge, + and some other articles, which the magistrate said were needed for the + trial. That trunk was sealed like the bottle, and put on the carriage; + then that man Galpin went off, and told me that I was free.” + </p> + <p> + “And Jacques,” Dionysia asked eagerly,—“how did he look?” + </p> + <p> + “Master, madam, laughed contemptuously.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you speak to him?” asked M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir! M. Galpin would not allow me.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you have time to look at the gun?” + </p> + <p> + “I could but just glance at the lock.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you see?” + </p> + <p> + The brow of the old servant grew still darker, as he replied sadly,— + </p> + <p> + “I saw that I had done well to keep silent. The lock is black. Master must + have used his gun since I cleaned it.” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore and M. Folgat exchanged looks of distress. One more + hope was lost. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the young lawyer, “tell me how M. de Boiscoran usually charged + his gun.” + </p> + <p> + “He used cartridges, sir, of course. They sent him, I think, two thousand + with the gun,—some for balls, some with large shot, and others with + shot of every size. At this season, when hunting is prohibited, master + could shoot nothing but rabbits, or those little birds, you know, which + come to our marshes: so he always loaded one barrel with tolerably large + shot, and the other with small-shot.” + </p> + <p> + But he stopped suddenly, shocked at the impression which his statement + seemed to produce. Dionysia cried,— + </p> + <p> + “That is terrible! Every thing is against us!” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat did not give her time to say any more. He asked,— + </p> + <p> + “My dear Anthony, did M. Galpin take all of your master’s cartridges away + with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you must instantly go back to Boiscoran, and bring me three or four + cartridges of every number of shot.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said the old man. “I’ll be back in a short time.” + </p> + <p> + He started immediately; and, thanks to his great promptness, he reappeared + at seven o’clock, at the moment when the family got up from dinner, and + put a large package of cartridges on the table. + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore and M. Folgat had quickly opened some of them; and, after a + few failures, they found two numbers of shot which seemed to correspond + exactly to the samples left them by the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “There is an incomprehensible fatality in all this,” said the old + gentleman in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer, also, looked discouraged. + </p> + <p> + “It is madness,” he said, “to try to establish M. de Boiscoran’s innocence + without having first communicated with him.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you could do so to-morrow?” asked Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “Then, madam, he might give us the key to this mystery, which we are in + vain trying to solve; or, at least, he might tell us the way to find it + all out. But that is not to be thought of. M. de Boiscoran is held in + close confinement, and you may rest assured M. Galpin will see to it that + no communication is held with his prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” said the young girl. + </p> + <p> + And immediately she drew M. de Chandore aside into one of the little + card-rooms adjoining the parlor, and asked him,— + </p> + <p> + “Grandpapa, am I rich?” + </p> + <p> + Never in her life had she thought of that, and she was to a certain extent + utterly ignorant of the value of money. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are rich, my child,” replied the old gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “How much do I have?” + </p> + <p> + “You have in your own right, as coming to you from your poor father and + from your mother, twenty-five thousand francs a year, or a capital of + about five hundred and fifty thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that a good deal?” + </p> + <p> + “It is so much, that you are one of the richest heiresses of the district; + but you have, besides, considerable expectations.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was so preoccupied, that she did not even protest. She went on + asking,— + </p> + <p> + “What do they call here to be well off?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends, my child. If you will tell me”— + </p> + <p> + She interrupted him, putting down her foot impatiently, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Please answer me!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, in our little town, an income of eight hundred or a thousand francs + makes anybody very well off.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us say a thousand.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a thousand would make a man very comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “And what capital would produce such an income?” + </p> + <p> + “At five per cent, it would take twenty thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, about the income of a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. I presume that is quite a large sum, and it would be rather + difficult for you, grandpapa, to get it together by to-morrow morning?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I have that much in railway coupon-bonds; and they are just + as good as current money.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Do you mean to say, that, if I gave anybody twenty thousand francs in + such bonds, it would be just the same to him as if I gave him twenty + thousand francs in bank-notes?” + </p> + <p> + “Just so.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia smiled. She thought she saw light. Then she went on,— + </p> + <p> + “If that is so, I must beg you, grandpapa, to give me twenty thousand + francs in coupon-bonds.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman started. + </p> + <p> + “You are joking,” he said. “What do you want with so much money? You are + surely joking.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I have never in my life been more serious,” replied the young + girl in a tone of voice which could not be mistaken. “I beseech you, + grandpapa, if you love me, give me these twenty thousand francs this + evening, right now. You hesitate? O God! You may kill me if you refuse.” + </p> + <p> + No, M. de Chandore was hesitating no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Since you will have it so,” he said, “I am going up stairs to get it.” + </p> + <p> + She clapped her hands with joy. + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” she said. “Make haste and dress; for I have to go out, and + you must go with me.” + </p> + <p> + Then going up to her aunts and the marchioness, she said to them,— + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will excuse me, if I leave you; but I must go out.” + </p> + <p> + “At this hour?” cried Aunt Elizabeth. “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To my dressmakers, the Misses Mechinet. I want a dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” cried Aunt Adelaide, “the child is losing her mind!” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you I am not, aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let me go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, no. I shall go alone; that is to say, alone with dear + grandpapa.” + </p> + <p> + And as M. de Chandore came back, his pockets full of bonds, his hat on his + head, and his cane in his hand, she carried him off, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Come, quick, dear grandpapa, we are in a great hurry.” + </p> + <p> + VII. + </p> + <p> + Although M. de Chandore was literally worshipping his grandchild on his + knees, and had transferred all his hopes and his affections to her who + alone survived of his large family, he had still had his thoughts when he + went up stairs to take from his money-box so large a sum of money. As + soon, therefore, as they were outside of the house, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Now that we are alone, my dear child, will you tell me what you mean to + do with all this money?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my secret,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “And you have not confidence enough in your old grandfather to tell him + what it is, darling?” + </p> + <p> + He stopped a moment; but she drew him on, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “You shall know it all, and in less than an hour. But, oh! You must not be + angry, grandpapa. I have a plan, which is no doubt very foolish. If I told + you, I am afraid you would stop me; and if you succeeded, and then + something happened to Jacques, I should not survive the misery. And think + of it, what you would feel, if you were to think afterwards, ‘If I had + only let her have her way!’” + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia, you are cruel!” + </p> + <p> + “On the other hand, if you did not induce me to give up my project, you + would certainly take away all my courage; and I need it all, I tell you, + grandpapa, for what I am going to risk.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, my dear child, and you must pardon me for repeating it once + more, twenty thousand francs are a big sum of money; and there are many + excellent and clever people who work hard, and deny themselves every + thing, a whole life long, without laying up that much.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, so much the better!” cried the young girl. “So much the better. I do + hope there will be enough so as to meet with no refusal!” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore began to comprehend. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” he said, “you have not told me where we are going.” + </p> + <p> + “To my dressmakers.” + </p> + <p> + “To the Misses Mechinet?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore was sure now. + </p> + <p> + “We shall not find them at home,” he said. “This is Sunday; and they are + no doubt at church.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall find them, grandpapa; for they always take tea at half-past + seven, for their brother’s, the clerk’s sake. But we must make haste.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman did make haste; but it is a long way from the New-Market + Place to Hill Street; for the sisters Mechinet lived on the Square, and, + if you please, in a house of their own,—a house which was to be the + delight of their days, and which had become the trouble of their nights. + </p> + <p> + They bought the house the year before the war, upon their brother’s + advice, and going halves with him, paying a sum of forty-seven thousand + francs, every thing included. It was a capital bargain; for they rented + out the basement and the first story to the first grocer in Sauveterre. + The sisters did not think they were imprudent in paying down ten thousand + francs in cash, and in binding themselves to pay the rest in three yearly + instalments. The first year all went well; but then came the war and + numerous disasters. The income of the sisters and of the brother was much + reduced, and they had nothing to live upon but his pay as clerk; so that + they had to use the utmost economy, and even contract some debts, in order + to pay the second instalment. When peace came, their income increased + again, and no one doubted in Sauveterre but that they would manage to get + out of their difficulties, as the brother was one of the hardest working + men, and the sisters were patronized by “the most distinguished” ladies of + the whole country. + </p> + <p> + “Grandpapa, they are at home,” said Dionysia, when they reached the + Square. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure. I see light in their windows.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore stopped. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do next?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to give me the bonds, grandpapa, and to wait for me here, + walking up and down, whilst I am going to the Misses Mechinet. I would ask + you to come up too; but they would be frightened at seeing you. Moreover, + if my enterprise does not succeed, it would not matter much as long as it + concerned only a little girl.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman’s last doubts began to vanish. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t succeed, my poor girl,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “O God!” she replied, checking her tears with difficulty, “why will you + discourage me?” + </p> + <p> + He said nothing. Suppressing a sigh, he pulled the papers out of his + pockets, and helped Dionysia to stuff them, as well as she could, into her + pocket and a little bag she had in her hand. When she had done, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, good-bye, grandpapa. I won’t be long.” + </p> + <p> + And lightly, like a bird, she crossed the street, and ran up to her + dressmakers. The old ladies and their brother were just finishing their + supper, which consisted of a small piece of pork and a light salad, with + an abundance of vinegar. At the unexpected entrance of Miss Chandore they + all started up. + </p> + <p> + “You, miss,” cried the elder of the two,—“you!” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia understood perfectly well what that simple “you” meant. It meant, + with the help of the tone of voice, “What? your betrothed is charged with + an abominable crime; there is overwhelming evidence against him; he is in + jail, in close confinement; everybody knows he will be tried at the + assizes, and he will be condemned—and you are here?” + </p> + <p> + But Dionysia kept on smiling, as she had entered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied, “it is I. I must have two dresses for next week; and I + come to ask you to show me some samples.” + </p> + <p> + The Misses Mechinet, always acting upon their brother’s advice, had made + an arrangement with a large house in Bordeaux, by which they received + samples of all their goods, and were allowed a discount on whatever they + sold. + </p> + <p> + “I will do so with pleasure,” said the older sister. “Just allow me to + light a lamp. It is almost dark.” + </p> + <p> + While she was wiping the chimney, and trimming the wick, she asked her + brother,— + </p> + <p> + “Are you not going to the Orpheon?” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not expected to be there?” + </p> + <p> + “No: I sent them word I would not come. I have to lithograph two plates + for the printer, and some very urgent copying to do for the court.” + </p> + <p> + While he was thus replying, he had folded up his napkin, and lighted a + candle. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night!” he said to his sisters. “I won’t see you again to-night,” + and, bowing deeply to Miss Chandore, he went out, his candle in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your brother going?” Dionysia asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “To his room, madam. His room is just opposite on the other side of the + staircase.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was as red as fire. Was she thus to let her opportunity slip,—an + opportunity such as she had never dared hope for? Gathering up all her + courage, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “But, now I think of it, I want to say a few words to your brother, my + dear ladies. Wait for me a moment. I shall be back in a moment.” And she + rushed out, leaving the dressmakers stupefied, gazing after her with open + mouths, and asking themselves if the grand calamity had bereft the poor + lady of reason. + </p> + <p> + The clerk was still on the landing, fumbling in his pocket for the key of + his room. + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to you instantly,” said Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + Mechinet was so utterly amazed, that he could not utter a word. He made a + movement as if he wanted to go back to his sisters; but the young girl + said,— + </p> + <p> + “No, in your room. We must not be overheard. Open sir, please. Open, + somebody might come.” + </p> + <p> + The fact is, he was so completely overcome, that it took him half a minute + to find the keyhole, and put the key in. At last, when the door was + opened, he moved aside to let Dionysia pass: but she said, “No, go in!” + </p> + <p> + He obeyed. She followed him, and, as soon as she was in the room, she shut + the door again, pushing even a bolt which she had noticed. Mechinet the + clerk was famous in Sauveterre for his coolness. Dionysia was timidity + personified, and blushed for the smallest trifle, remaining speechless for + some time. At this moment, however, it was certainly not the young girl + who was embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, M. Mechinet,” she said, “and listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + He put his candlestick on a table, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + “You know me, don’t you?” asked Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I do, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “You have surely heard that I am to be married to M. de Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk started up, as if he had been moved by a spring, beat his + forehead furiously with his hand, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what a fool I was! Now I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are right,” replied the girl. “I come to talk to you about M. de + Boiscoran, my betrothed, my husband.” + </p> + <p> + She paused; and for a minute Mechinet and the young girl remained there + face to face, silent and immovable, looking at each other, he asking + himself what she could want of him, and she trying to guess how far she + might venture. + </p> + <p> + “You can no doubt imagine, M. Mechinet, what I have suffered, since M. de + Boiscoran has been sent to prison, charged with the meanest of all + crimes!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, surely, I do!” replied Mechinet. + </p> + <p> + And, carried away by his emotion, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “But I can assure you, madam, that I, who have been present at all the + examinations, and who have no small experience in criminal matters,—that + I believe M. de Boiscoran innocent. I know M. Galpin does not think so, + nor M. Daubigeon, nor any of the gentlemen of the bar, nor the town; but, + nevertheless, that is my conviction. You see, I was there when they fell + upon M. de Boiscoran, asleep in his bed. Well, the very tone of his voice, + as he cried out, ‘Oh, my dear Galpin!’ told me that the man is not + guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir,” stammered Dionysia, “thanks, thanks!” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to thank me for, madam; for time has only confirmed my + conviction. As if a guilty man ever bore himself as M. de Boiscoran does! + You ought to have seen him just now, when we had gone to remove the seals, + calm, dignified, answering coldly all the questions that were asked. I + could not help telling M. Galpin what I thought. He said I was a fool. + Well, I maintain, on the contrary, that he is. Ah! I beg your pardon, I + mean that he is mistaken. The more I see of M. de Boiscoran, the more he + gives me the impression that he has only a word to say to clear up the + whole matter.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia listened to him with such absorbing interest, that she well-nigh + forgot why she had come. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” she asked, “you think M. de Boiscoran is not much overcome?” + </p> + <p> + “I should lie if I said he did not look sad, madam,” was the reply. “But + he is not overcome. After the first astonishment, his presence of mind + returned; and M. Galpin has in vain tried these three days by all his + ingenuity and his cleverness”— + </p> + <p> + Here he stopped suddenly, like a drunken man who recovers his + consciousness for a moment, and becomes aware that he has said too much in + his cups. He exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Great God! what am I talking about? For Heaven’s sake, madam, do not let + anybody hear what I was led by my respectful sympathy to tell you just + now.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia felt that the decisive moment had come. She said,— + </p> + <p> + “If you knew me better, sir, you would know that you can rely upon my + discretion. You need not regret having given me by your confidence some + little comfort in my great sorrow. You need not; for”— + </p> + <p> + Her voice nearly failed her, and it was only with a great effort she could + add,— + </p> + <p> + “For I come to ask you to do even more than that for me, oh! yes, much + more.” + </p> + <p> + Mechinet had turned painfully pale. He broke in vehemently,— + </p> + <p> + “Not another word, madam: your hope already is an insult to me. You ought + surely to know that by my profession, as well as by my oath, I am bound to + be as silent as the very cell in which the prisoners are kept. If I, the + clerk, were to betray the secret of a criminal prosecution”— + </p> + <p> + Dionysia trembled like an aspen-leaf; but her mind remained clear and + decided. She said,— + </p> + <p> + “You would rather let an innocent man perish.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” + </p> + <p> + “You would let an innocent man be condemned, when by a single word you + could remove the mistake of which he is the victim? You would say to + yourself, ‘It is unlucky; but I have sworn not to speak’? And you would + see him with quiet conscience mount the scaffold? No, I cannot believe + that! No, that cannot be true!” + </p> + <p> + “I told you, madam, I believe in M. de Boiscoran’s innocence.” + </p> + <p> + “And you refuse to aid me in establishing his innocence? O God! what ideas + men form of their duty! How can I move you? How can I convince you? Must I + remind you of the torture this man suffers, whom they charge with being an + assassin? Must I tell you what horrible anguish we suffer, we, his + friends, his relatives?—how his mother weeps, how I weep, I, his + betrothed! We know he is innocent; and yet we cannot establish his + innocence for want of a friend who would aid us, who would pity us!” + </p> + <p> + In all his life the clerk had not heard such burning words. He was moved + to the bottom of his heart. At last he asked, trembling,— + </p> + <p> + “What do you want me to do, madam?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very little, sir, very little,—just to send M. de Boiscoran ten + lines, and to bring us his reply.” + </p> + <p> + The boldness of the request seemed to stun the clerk. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “Never!” + </p> + <p> + “You will not have pity?” + </p> + <p> + “I should forfeit my honor.” + </p> + <p> + “And, if you let an innocent one be condemned, what would that be?” + </p> + <p> + Mechinet was evidently suffering anguish. Amazed, overcome, he did not + know what to say, what to do. At last he thought of one reason for + refusing, and stammered out,— + </p> + <p> + “And if I were found out? I should lose my place, ruin my sisters, destroy + my career for life.” + </p> + <p> + With trembling hands, Dionysia drew from her pocket the bonds which her + grandfather had given her, and threw them in a heap on the table. She + began,— + </p> + <p> + “There are twenty thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk drew back frightened. He cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Money! You offer me money!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t be offended!” began the young girl again, with a voice that + would have moved a stone. “How could I want to offend you, when I ask of + you more than my life? There are services which can never be paid. But, if + the enemies of M. de Boiscoran should find out that you have aided us, + their rage might turn against you.” + </p> + <p> + Instinctively the clerk unloosed his cravat. The struggle within him, no + doubt, was terrible. He was stifled. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty thousand francs!” he said in a hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not enough?” asked the young girl. “Yes, you are right: it is very + little. But I have as much again for you, twice as much.” + </p> + <p> + With haggard eyes, Mechinet had approached the table, and was convulsively + handling the pile of papers, while he repeated,— + </p> + <p> + “Twenty thousand francs! A thousand a year!” + </p> + <p> + “No, double that much, and moreover, our gratitude, our devoted + friendship, all the influence of the two families of Boiscoran and + Chandore; in a word, fortune, position, respect.” + </p> + <p> + But by this time, thanks to a supreme effort of will, the clerk had + recovered his self-control. + </p> + <p> + “No more, madam, say no more!” + </p> + <p> + And with a determined, though still trembling voice, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Take your money back again, madam. If I were to do what you want me to + do, if I were to betray my duty for money, I should be the meanest of men. + If, on the other hand, I am actuated only by a sincere conviction and an + interest in the truth, I may be looked upon as a fool; but I shall always + be worthy of the esteem of honorable men. Take back that fortune, madam, + which has made an honest man waver for a moment in his conscience. I will + do what you ask, but for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + If grandpapa was getting tired of walking up and down in the Square, the + sisters of Mechinet found time pass still more slowly in their workroom. + They asked each other,— + </p> + <p> + “What can Miss Dionysia have to say to brother?” + </p> + <p> + At the end of ten minutes, their curiosity, stimulated by the most absurd + suppositions, had become such martyrdom to them, that they made up their + minds to knock at the clerk’s door. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, leave me alone!” he cried out, angry at being thus interrupted. But + then he considered a moment, opened hastily, and said quite gently,— + </p> + <p> + “Go back to your room, my dear sisters, and, if you wish to spare me a + very serious embarrassment, never tell anybody in this world that Miss + Chandore has had a conversation with me.” + </p> + <p> + Trained to obey, the two sisters went back, but not so promptly that they + should have not seen the bonds which Dionysia had thrown upon the table, + and which were quite familiar in their appearance to them, as they had + once owned some of them themselves. Their burning desire to know was thus + combined with vague terror; and, when they got back to their room, the + younger asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Did you see?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, those bonds,” replied the other. + </p> + <p> + “There must have been five or six hundred.” + </p> + <p> + “Even more, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “That is to say, a very big sum of money.” + </p> + <p> + “An enormous one.” + </p> + <p> + “What can that mean, Holy Virgin! And what have we to expect?” + </p> + <p> + “And brother asking us to keep his secret!” + </p> + <p> + “He looked as pale as his shirt, and terribly distressed.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Dionysia was crying like a Magdalen.” + </p> + <p> + It was so. Dionysia, as long as she had been uncertain of the result, had + felt in her heart that Jacques’s safety depended on her courage and her + presence of mind. But now, assured of success, she could no longer control + her excitement; and, overcome by the effort, she had sunk down on a chair + and burst out into tears. + </p> + <p> + The clerk shut the door, and looked at her for some time; then, having + overcome his own emotions, he said to her,— + </p> + <p> + “Madame.” + </p> + <p> + But, as she heard his voice, she jumped up, and taking his hands into + hers, she broke out,— + </p> + <p> + “O sir! How can I thank you! How can I ever make you aware of the depth of + my gratitude!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t speak of that,” he said almost rudely, trying to conceal his deep + feeling. + </p> + <p> + “I will say nothing more,” she replied very gently; “but I must tell you + that none of us will ever forget the debt of gratitude which we owe you + from this day. You say the great service which you are about to render us + is not free from danger. Whatever may happen, you must remember, that, + from this moment, you have in us devoted friends.” + </p> + <p> + The interruption caused by his sisters had had the good effect of + restoring to Mechinet a good portion of his habitual self-possession. He + said,— + </p> + <p> + “I hope no harm will come of it; and yet I cannot conceal from you, madam, + that the service which I am going to try to render you presents more + difficulties than I thought.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” murmured Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “M. Galpin,” the clerk went on saying, “is, perhaps, not exactly a + superior man; but he understands his profession; he is cunning, and + exceedingly suspicious. Only yesterday he told me that he knew the + Boiscoran family would try every thing in the world to save M. de + Boiscoran from justice. Hence he is all the time on the watch, and takes + all kinds of precautions. If he dared to it, he would have his bed put + across his cell in the prison.” + </p> + <p> + “That man hates me, M. Mechinet!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, madam! But he is ambitious: he thinks his success in his + profession depends upon his success in this case; and he is afraid the + accused might escape or be carried off.” + </p> + <p> + Mechinet was evidently in great perplexity, and scratched his ear. Then he + added,— + </p> + <p> + “How am I to go about to let M. de Boiscoran have your note? If he knew + beforehand, it would be easy. But he is unprepared. And then he is just as + suspicious as M. Galpin. He is always afraid lest they prepare him a trap; + and he is on the lookout. If I make him a sign, I fear he will not + understand me; and, if I make him a sign, will not M. Galpin see it? That + man is lynx-eyed.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you never alone with M. de Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + “Never for an instant, madam. I only go in with the magistrate, and I come + out with him. You will say, perhaps, that in leaving, as I am behind, I + might drop the note cleverly. But, when we leave, the jailer is there, and + he has good eyes. I should have to dread, besides, M. de Boiscoran’s own + suspicions. If he saw a letter coming to him in that way, from me, he is + quite capable of handing it at once to M. Galpin.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and after a moment’s meditation he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “The safest way would probably be to win the confidence of M. Blangin, the + keeper of the jail, or of some prisoner, whose duty it is to wait on M. de + Boiscoran, and to watch him.” + </p> + <p> + “Trumence!” exclaimed Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + The clerk’s face expressed the most startled surprise. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “What! You know his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do; for Blangin mentioned him to me; and the name struck me the + day when M. de Boiscoran’s mother and I went to the jail, not knowing what + was meant by ‘close confinement.’” + </p> + <p> + The clerk was disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, “now I understand M. Galpin’s great trouble. He has, no + doubt, heard of your visit, and imagined that you wanted to rob him of his + prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + He murmured some words, which Dionysia could not hear; and then, coming to + some decision, apparently, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind! I’ll see what can be done. Write your letter, madam: + here are pens and ink.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl made no reply, but sat down at Mechinet’s table; but, at + the moment when she was putting pen to paper she asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Has M. de Boiscoran any books in his prison?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam. At his request M. Galpin himself went and selected, in M. + Daubigeon’s library, some books of travels and some of Cooper’s novels for + him.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia uttered a cry of delight. + </p> + <p> + “O Jacques!” she said, “how glad I am you counted upon me!” and, without + noticing how utterly Mechinet seemed to be surprised, she wrote,— + </p> + <p> + “We are sure of your innocence, Jacques, and still we are in despair. Your + mother is here, with a Paris lawyer, a M. Folgat, who is devoted to your + interests. What must we do? Give us your instructions. You can reply + without fear, as you have <i>our</i> book. + </p> + <p> + “DIONYSIA.” + </p> + <p> + “Read this,” she said to the clerk, when she had finished. But he did not + avail himself of the permission. He folded the paper, and slipped it into + an envelope, which he sealed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are very kind!” said the young girl, touched by his delicacy. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, madam. I only try to do a dishonest thing in the most honest + way. To-morrow, madam, you shall have your answer.” + </p> + <p> + “I will call for it.” + </p> + <p> + Mechinet trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Take care not to do so,” he said. “The good people of Sauveterre are too + cunning not to know that just now you are not thinking much of dress; and + your calls here would look suspicious. Leave it to me to see to it that + you get M. de Boiscoran’s answer.” + </p> + <p> + While Dionysia was writing, the clerk had made a parcel of the bonds which + she had brought. He handed it to her, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Take it, madam. If I want money for Blangin, or for Trumence, I will ask + you for it. And now you must go: you need not go in to my sisters. I will + explain your visit to them.” + </p> + <p> + VIII. + </p> + <p> + “What can have happened to Dionysia, that she does not come back?” + murmured Grandpapa Chandore, as he walked up and down the Square, and + looked, for the twentieth time, at his watch. For some time the fear of + displeasing his grandchild, and of receiving a scolding, kept him at the + place where she had told him to wait for her; but at last it was too much + for him, and he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, this is too much! I’ll risk it.” + </p> + <p> + And, crossing the road which separates the Square from the houses, he + entered the long, narrow passage in the house of the sisters Mechinet. He + was just putting his foot on the first step of the stairs, when he saw a + light above. He distinguished the voice of his granddaughter, and then her + light step. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” he thought. + </p> + <p> + And swiftly, like a schoolboy who hears his teacher coming, and fears to + be caught in the act, he slipped back into the Square. Dionysia was there + almost at the same moment, and fell on his neck, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Dear grandpapa, I bring you back your bonds,” and then she rained a + shower of kisses upon the old gentleman’s furrowed cheeks. + </p> + <p> + If any thing could astonish M. de Chandore, it was the idea that there + should exist in this world a man with a heart hard, cruel, and barbarous + enough, to resist his Dionysia’s prayers and tears, especially if they + were backed by twenty thousand francs. Nevertheless, he said mournfully,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I told you, my dear child, you would not succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “And you were mistaken, dear grandpapa, and you are still mistaken; for I + have succeeded!” + </p> + <p> + “But—you bring back the money?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have found an honest man, dearest grandpapa,—a most + honorable man. Poor fellow, how I must have tempted his honesty! For he is + very much embarrassed, I know it from good authority, ever since he and + his sisters bought that house. It was more than comfort, it was a real + fortune, I offered him. Ah! you ought to have seen how his eyes brightened + up, and how his hands trembled, when he took up the bonds! Well, he + refused to take them, after all; and the only reward he asks for the very + good service which he is going to render us”— + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore expressed his assent by a gesture, and then said,— + </p> + <p> + “You are right, darling: that clerk is a good man, and he has won our + eternal gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to add,” continued Dionysia, “that I was ever so brave. I should + never have thought that I could be so bold. I wish you had been hid in + some corner, grandpapa, to see me and hear me. You would not have + recognized your grandchild. I cried a little, it is true, when I had + carried my point.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, dear child!” murmured the old gentleman, deeply moved. + </p> + <p> + “You see, grandpapa, I thought of nothing but of Jacques’s danger, and of + the glory of proving myself worthy of him, who is so brave himself. I hope + he will be satisfied with me.” + </p> + <p> + “He would be hard to please, indeed, if he were not!” exclaimed M. de + Chandore. + </p> + <p> + The grandfather and his child were standing all the while under the trees + in the great Square while they were thus talking to each other; and + already a number of people had taken the opportunity of passing close by + them, with ears wide open, and all eagerness, to find out what was going + on: it is a way people have in small towns. Dionysia remembered the + clerk’s kindly warnings; and, as soon as she became aware of it, she said + to her grandfather,— + </p> + <p> + “Come, grandpapa. People are listening. I will tell you the rest as we are + going home.” + </p> + <p> + And so, on their way, she told him all the little details of her + interview; and the old gentleman declared, in all earnest, that he did not + know which to admire most,—her presence of mind, or Mechinet’s + disinterestedness. + </p> + <p> + “All the more reason,” said the young girl, “why we should not add to the + dangers which the good man is going to run for us. I promised him to tell + nobody, and I mean to keep my promise. If you believe me, dear grandpapa, + we had better not speak of it to anybody, not even to my aunts.” + </p> + <p> + “You might just as well declare at once, little scamp, that you want to + save Jacques quite alone, without anybody’s help.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if I could do that! Unfortunately, we must take M. Folgat into our + confidence; for we cannot do without his advice.” + </p> + <p> + Thus it was done. The poor aunts, and even the marchioness, had to be + content with Dionysia’s not very plausible explanation of her visit. And a + few hours afterwards M. de Chandore, the young girl, and M. Folgat held a + council in the baron’s study. The young lawyer was even more surprised by + Dionysia’s idea, and her bold proceedings, then her grandfather; he would + never have imagined that she was capable of such a step, she looked so + timid and innocent, like a mere child. He was about to compliment her; but + she interrupted him eagerly, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to boast of. I ran no risk.” + </p> + <p> + “A very substantial risk, madam, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” exclaimed M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + “To bribe an official,” continued M. Folgat, “is a very grave offence. The + Criminal Code has a certain paragraph, No. 179, which does not trifle, and + punishes the man who bribes, as well as the man who is bribed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so much the better!” cried Dionysia. “If poor M. Mechinet has to go + to prison, I’ll go with him!” + </p> + <p> + And, without noticing the dissatisfaction expressed in her grandfather’s + features, she added, turning to M. Folgat,— + </p> + <p> + “After all, sir, you see that your wishes have been fulfilled. We shall be + able to communicate with M. de Boiscoran: he will give us his + instructions.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “How? Perhaps? You said yourself”— + </p> + <p> + “I told you, madam, it would be useless, perhaps even imprudent, to take + any steps before we know the truth. But will we know it? Do you think that + M. de Boiscoran, who has good reasons for being suspicious of every thing, + will at once tell us all in a letter which must needs pass through several + hands before it can reach us?” + </p> + <p> + “He will tell us all, sir, without reserve, without fear, and without + danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “I have taken my precautions. You will see.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we have only to wait.” + </p> + <p> + Alas, yes! They had to wait, and that was what distressed Dionysia. She + hardly slept that night. The next day was one unbroken torment. At each + ringing of the bell, she trembled, and ran to see. + </p> + <p> + At last, towards five o’clock, when nothing had come, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “It is not to be to-day, provided, O God! that poor Mechinet has not been + caught.” + </p> + <p> + And, perhaps in order to escape for a time the anguish of her fears, she + agreed to accompany Jacques’s mother, who wanted to pay some visits. + </p> + <p> + Ah, if she had but known! She had not left the house ten minutes, when one + of those street-boys, who abound at all hours of the day on the great + Square, appeared, bringing a letter to her address. They took it to M. de + Chandore, who, while waiting for dinner, was walking in the garden with M. + Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “A letter for Dionysia!” exclaimed the old gentleman, as soon as the + servant had disappeared. “Here is the answer we have been waiting for!” + </p> + <p> + He boldly tore it open. Alas! It was useless. The note within the envelope + ran thus,— + </p> + <p> + “31:9, 17, 19, 23, 25, 28, 32, 101, 102, 129, 137, 504, 515—37:2, 3, + 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 13, 14, 24, 27, 52, 54, 118, 119, 120, 200, 201—41:7, + 9, 17, 21, 22, 44, 45, 46”— + </p> + <p> + And so on, for two pages. + </p> + <p> + “Look at this, and try to make it out,” said M. de Chandore, handing the + letter to M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + The young man actually tried it; but, after five minutes’ useless efforts, + he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I understand now why Miss Chandore promised us that we should know the + truth. M. de Boiscoran and she have formerly corresponded with each other + in cipher.” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore raised his hands to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Just think of these little girls! Here we are utterly helpless without + her, as she alone can translate those hieroglyphics for you.” + </p> + <p> + If Dionysia had hoped, by accompanying the marchioness on her visits, to + escape from the sad presentiments that oppressed her, she was cruelly + disappointed. They went to M. Seneschal’s house first; but the mayor’s + wife was by no means calculated to give courage to others in an hour of + peril. She could do nothing but embrace alternately Jacques’s mother and + Dionysia, and, amid a thousand sobs, tell them over and over again, that + she looked upon one as the most unfortunate of mothers, and upon the other + as the most unfortunate of betrothed maidens. + </p> + <p> + “Does the woman think Jacques is guilty?” thought Dionysia, and felt + almost angry. + </p> + <p> + And that was not all. As they returned home, and passed the house which + had been provisionally taken for Count Claudieuse and his family, they + heard a little boy calling out,— + </p> + <p> + “O mamma, come quick! Here are the murderer’s mother and his sweetheart.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the poor girl came home more downcast than before. Immediately, + however, her maid, who had evidently been on the lookout for her return, + told her that her grandfather and the lawyer from Paris were waiting for + her in the baron’s study. She hastened there without stopping to take off + her bonnet; and, as soon as she came in, M. de Chandore handed her + Jacques’s letter, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Here is your answer.” + </p> + <p> + She could not repress a little cry of delight, and rapidly touched the + letter with her lips, repeating,— + </p> + <p> + “Now we are safe, we are safe!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore smiled at the happiness of his granddaughter. + </p> + <p> + “But, Miss Hypocrite,” he said, “it seems you had great secrets to + communicate to M. de Boiscoran, since you resorted to cipher, like arch + conspirators. M. Folgat and I tried to read it; but it was all Greek to + us.” + </p> + <p> + Now only the young lady remembered M. Folgat’s presence, and, blushing + deeply, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Latterly Jacques and I had been discussing the various methods to which + people resort who wish to carry on a secret correspondence: this led him + to teach me one of the ways. Two correspondents choose any book they like, + and each takes a copy of the same edition. The writer looks in his volume + for the words he wants, and numbers them; his correspondent finds them by + the aid of these numbers. Thus, in Jacques’s letters, the numbers followed + by a colon refer to the pages, and the others to the order in which the + words come.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah!” said Grandpapa Chandore, “I might have looked a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a very simple method,” replied Dionysia, “very well known, and + still quite safe. How could an outsider guess what book the correspondents + have chosen? Then there are other means to mislead indiscreet people. It + may be agreed upon, for instance, that the numbers shall never have their + apparent value, or that they shall vary according to the day of the month + or the week. Thus, to-day is Monday, the second day of the week. Well, I + have to deduct one from each number of a page, and add one to each number + of a word.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will be able to make it all out?” asked M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, dear grandpapa. Ever since Jacques explained it to me, I have + tried to learn it as a matter of course. We have chose a book which I am + very fond of, Cooper’s ‘Spy;’ and we amused ourselves by writing endless + letters. Oh! it is very amusing, and it takes time, because one does not + always find the words that are needed, and then they have to be spelled + letter by letter.” + </p> + <p> + “And M. de Boiscoran has a copy of Cooper’s novels in his prison?” asked + M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. M. Mechinet told me so. As soon as Jacques found he was to be + kept in close confinement, he asked for some of Cooper’s novels, and M. + Galpin, who is so cunning, so smart, and so suspicious, went himself and + got them for him. Jacques was counting upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, dear child, go and read your letter, and solve the riddle,” said M. + de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + When she had left, he said to his companion,— + </p> + <p> + “How she loves him! How she loves this man Jacques! Sir, if any thing + should happen to him, she would die.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat made no reply; and nearly an hour passed, before Dionysia, shut + up in her room, had succeeded in finding all the words of which Jacques’s + letter was composed. But when she had finished, and came back to her + grandfather’s study, her youthful face expressed the most profound + despair. + </p> + <p> + “This is horrible!” she said. + </p> + <p> + The same idea crossed, like a sharp arrow, the minds of M. de Chandore and + M. Folgat. Had Jacques confessed? + </p> + <p> + “Look, read yourself!” said Dionysia, handing them the translation. + </p> + <p> + Jacques wrote,— + </p> + <p> + “Thanks for your letter, my darling. A presentiment had warned me, and I + had asked for a copy of Cooper. + </p> + <p> + “I understand but too well how grieved you must be at seeing me kept in + prison without my making an effort to establish my innocence. I kept + silence, because I hoped the proof of my innocence would come from + outside. I see that it would be madness to hope so any longer, and that I + must speak. I shall speak. But what I have to say is so very serious, that + I shall keep silence until I shall have had an opportunity of consulting + with some one in whom I can feel perfect confidence. Prudence alone is not + enough now: skill also is required. Until now I felt secure, relying on my + innocence. But the last examination has opened my eyes, and I now see the + danger to which I am exposed. + </p> + <p> + “I shall suffer terribly until the day when I can see a lawyer. Thank my + mother for having brought one. I hope he will pardon me, if I address + myself first to another man. I want a man who knows the country and its + customs. + </p> + <p> + “That is why I have chosen M. Magloire; and I beg you will tell him to + hold himself ready for the day on which, the examination being completed, + I shall be relieved from close confinement. + </p> + <p> + “Until then, nothing can be done, nothing, unless you can obtain that the + case be taken out of M. G——-’s hands, and be given to some one + else. That man acts infamously. He wants me to be guilty. He would himself + commit a crime in order to charge me with it, and there is no kind of trap + he does not lay for me. I have the greatest difficulty in controlling + myself every time I see this man enter my cell, who was my friend, and now + is my accuser. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear ones! I pay a heavy price for a fault of which I have been, + until now, almost unconscious. + </p> + <p> + “And you, my only friend, will you ever be able to forgive me the terrible + anxiety I cause you? + </p> + <p> + “I should like to say much more; but the prisoner who has handed me your + note says I must be quick, and it takes so much time to pick out the + words! + </p> + <p> + “J.” + </p> + <p> + When the letter had been read, M. Folgat and M. de Chandore sadly turned + their heads aside, fearing lest Dionysia should read in their eyes the + secret of their thoughts. But she felt only too well what it meant. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot doubt Jacques, grandpapa!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “No,” murmured the old gentleman feebly, “no.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, M. Folgat—are you so much hurt by Jacques’s desire to + consult another lawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “I should have been the first, madam, to advise him to consult a native.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia had to summon all her energy to check her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “this letter is terrible; but how can it be otherwise? + Don’t you see that Jacques is in despair, that his mind wanders after all + these fearful shocks?” + </p> + <p> + Somebody knocked gently at the door. + </p> + <p> + “It is I,” said the marchioness. + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore, M. Folgat, and Dionysia looked at each other for a + moment; and then the advocate said,— + </p> + <p> + “The situation is too serious: we must consult the marchioness.” He rose + to open the door. Since the three friends had been holding the council in + the baron’s study, a servant had come five times in succession to knock at + the door, and tell them that the soup was on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” they had replied each time. + </p> + <p> + At last, as they did not come down yet, Jacques’s mother had come to the + conclusion that something extraordinary had occurred. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what could this be, that they should keep it from her?” she thought. + If it were something good, they would not have concealed it from her. She + had come up stairs, therefore, with the firm resolution to force them to + let her come in. When M. Folgat opened the door, she said instantly,— + </p> + <p> + “I mean to know all!” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia replied to her,— + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you may hear, my dear mother, pray remember, that if you allow a + single word to be torn from you, by joy or by sorrow, you cause the ruin + of an honest man, who has put us all under such obligations as can never + be fully discharged. I have been fortunate enough to establish a + correspondence between Jacques and us.” + </p> + <p> + “O Dionysia!” + </p> + <p> + “I have written to him, and I have received his answer. Here it is.” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness was almost beside herself, and eagerly snatched at the + letter. But, as she read on, it was fearful to see how the blood receded + from her face, how her eyes grew dim, her lips turned pale, and at last + her breath failed to come. The letter slipped from her trembling hands; + she sank into a chair, and said, stammering,— + </p> + <p> + “It is no use to struggle any longer: we are lost!” + </p> + <p> + There was something grand in Dionysia’s gesture and the admirable accent + of her voice, as she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you say at once, my mother, that Jacques is an incendiary and + an assassin?” + </p> + <p> + Raising her head with an air of dauntless energy, with trembling lips, and + fierce glances full of wrath and disdain, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “And do I really remain the only one to defend him,—him, who, in his + days of prosperity, had so many friends? Well, so be it!” + </p> + <p> + Naturally, M. Folgat had been less deeply moved than either the + marchioness or M. de Chandore; and hence he was also the first to recover + his calmness. + </p> + <p> + “We shall be two, madam, at all events,” he said; “for I should never + forgive myself, if I allowed myself to be influenced by that letter. It + would be inexcusable, since I know by experience what your heart has told + you instinctively. Imprisonment has horrors which affect the strongest and + stoutest of minds. The days in prison are interminable, and the nights + have nameless terrors. The innocent man in his lonely cell feels as if he + were becoming guilty, as the man of soundest intellect would begin to + doubt himself in a madhouse”— + </p> + <p> + Dionysia did not let him conclude. She cried,— + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly what I felt, sir; but I could not express it as clearly + as you do.” + </p> + <p> + Ashamed at their lack of courage, M. de Chandore and the marchioness made + an effort to recover from the doubts which, for a moment, had well-nigh + overcome them. + </p> + <p> + “But what is to be done?” asked the old lady. + </p> + <p> + “Your son tells us, madam, we have only to wait for the end of the + preliminary examination.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon,” said M. de Chandore, “we have to try to get the case + handed over to another magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, that is not to be dreamt of. A magistrate acting in his + official capacity cannot be rejected like a simple juryman.” + </p> + <p> + “However”— + </p> + <p> + “Article 542 of the Criminal Code is positive on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! What does it say?” asked Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “It says, in substance, madam, that a demand for a change of magistrate, + on the score of well-founded suspicion, can only be entertained by a court + of appeals, because the magistrate, within his legitimate sphere, is a + court in himself. I do not know if I express myself clearly?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very clearly!” said M. de Chandore. “Only, since Jacques wishes it”— + </p> + <p> + “To be sure; but M. de Boiscoran does not know”— + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. He knows that the magistrate is his mortal enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so. But how would that help us? Do you think that a demand for a + change of venue would prevent M. Galpin from carrying on the proceedings? + Not at all. He would go on until the decision comes from the Court of + Appeals. He could, it is true, issue no final order; but that is the very + thing M. de Boiscoran ought to desire, since such an order would make an + end to his close confinement, and enable him to see an advocate.” + </p> + <p> + “That is atrocious!” murmured M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + “It is atrocious, indeed; but such are the laws of France.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Dionysia had been meditating; and now she said to the + young advocate,— + </p> + <p> + “I have understood you perfectly, and to-morrow your objections shall be + known to M. de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “Above all,” said the lawyer, “explain to him clearly that any such steps + as he proposes to take will turn to his disadvantage. M. Galpin is our + enemy; but we can make no specific charge against him. They would always + reply, ‘If M. de Boiscoran is innocent, why does he not speak?’” + </p> + <p> + This is what Grandpapa Chandore would not admit. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” he said, “if we could bring influential men to help us?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Boiscoran has old friends, who, no doubt, are all-powerful + still under the present government. He was, in former years, very intimate + with M. de Margeril.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat’s expression was very encouraging. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, “if M. de Margeril could give us a lift! But he is not + easily approached.” + </p> + <p> + “We might send Boiscoran to see him, at least. Since he remained in Paris + for the purpose of assisting us there, now he will have an opportunity. I + will write to him to-night.” + </p> + <p> + Since the name of Margeril had been mentioned, the marchioness had become, + if possible, paler than ever. At the old gentleman’s last words she rose, + and said anxiously,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not write, sir: it would be useless. I do not wish it.” + </p> + <p> + Her embarrassment was so evident, that the others were quite surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Have Boiscoran and M. de Margeril had any difficulty?” asked M. de + Chandore. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” cried Dionysia, “it is a matter of life and death for Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + Alas! The poor woman could not speak of the suspicions which had darkened + the whole life of the Marquis de Boiscoran, nor of the cruel penalty which + the wife was now called upon to pay for a slight imprudence. + </p> + <p> + “If it is absolutely necessary,” she said with a half-stifled voice, “if + that is our very last hope, then I will go and see M. de Margeril myself.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was the only one who suspected what painful antecedents there + might be in the life of the marchioness, and how she was harassed by their + memory now. He interposed, therefore, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “At all events, my advice is to await the end of the preliminary + investigation. I may be mistaken, however, and, before any answer is sent + to M. Jacques, I desire that the lawyer to whom he alludes should be + consulted.” + </p> + <p> + “That is certainly the wisest plan,” said M. de Chandore. And, ringing for + a servant, he sent him at once to M. Magloire, to ask him to call after + dinner. Jacques de Boiscoran had chosen wisely. M. Magloire was looked + upon in Sauveterre as the most eloquent and most skilful lawyer, not only + of the district, but of the whole province. And what is rarer still, and + far more glorious, he had, besides, the reputation of being unsurpassed in + integrity and a high sense of honor. It was well known that he would never + have consented to plead a doubtful cause; and they told of him a number of + heroic stories, in which he had thrown clients out of the window, who had + been so ill-advised to come to him, money in hand, to ask him to undertake + an unclean case. He was naturally not a rich man, and preserved, at + fifty-four or five, all the habits of a frugal and thrifty young man. + </p> + <p> + After having married quite young, M. Magloire had lost his wife after a + few months, and had never recovered from the loss. Although thirty years + old, the wound had never healed; and regularly, on certain days, he was + seen wending his way to the cemetery, to place flowers on a modest grave + there. Any other man would have been laughed at for such a thing at + Sauveterre; but with him they dared not do so, for they all respected him + highly. Young and old knew and reverenced the tall man with the calm, + serene face, the clear, bright eyes, and the eloquent lips, which, in + their well-cut, delicate lines, by turns glowed with scorn, with + tenderness, or with disdain. + </p> + <p> + Like Dr. Seignebos, M. Magloire also was a Republican; and, at the last + Imperial elections, the Bonapartists had had the greatest trouble, aided + though they were by the whole influence of the government, and shrinking + from no unfair means, to keep him out of the Chamber. Nor would they have + been successful after all, but for the influence of Count Claudieuse, who + had prevailed upon a number of electors to abstain from voting. + </p> + <p> + This was the man, who, towards nine o’clock, presented himself, upon the + invitation of M. de Chandore, at his house, where he was anxiously + expected by all the inmates. His greeting was affectionate, but at the + same time so sad, that it touched Dionysia’s heart most painfully. She + thought she saw that M. Magloire was not far from believing Jacques + guilty. + </p> + <p> + And she was not mistaken; for M. Magloire let them see it clearly, in the + most delicate manner, to be sure, but still so as to leave no doubt. He + had spent the day in court, and there had heard the opinions of the + members of the court, which was by no means favorable to the accused. + Under such circumstances, it would have evidently been a grave blunder to + yield to Jacques’s wishes, and to apply for a change of venue from M. + Galpin to some other magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “The investigation will last a year,” cried Dionysia, “since M. Galpin is + determined to obtain from Jacques the confession of a crime which he has + not committed.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire shook his head, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I believe, on the contrary, madam, that the investigation will be very + soon concluded.” + </p> + <p> + “But if Jacques keeps silent?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither the silence of an accused, nor any other caprice or obstinacy of + his, can interfere with the regular process. Called upon to produce his + justification, if he refuses to do so, the law proceeds without him.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, sir, if an accused person has reasons”— + </p> + <p> + “There are no reasons which can force a man to let himself be accused + unjustly. But even that case has been foreseen. The accused is at liberty + not to answer a question which may inculpate him. <i>Nemo tenetur prodere + se ipsum</i>. But you must admit that such a refusal to answer justifies a + judge in believing that the charges are true which the accused does not + refute.” + </p> + <p> + The great calmness of the distinguished lawyer of Sauveterre terrified his + listeners more and more, except M. Folgat. When they heard him use all + those technical terms, they felt chilled through and through like the + friends of a wounded man who hear the grating noise of the surgeon’s + knife. + </p> + <p> + “My son’s situation appears to you very serious, sir?” asked the + marchioness in a feeble voice. + </p> + <p> + “I said it was dangerous, madam.” + </p> + <p> + “You think, as M. Folgat does, that every day adds to the danger to which + he is exposed?” + </p> + <p> + “I am but too sure of that. And if M. de Boiscoran is really innocent”— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, M. Magloire!” broke in Dionysia, “how can you, who are a friend of + Jacques’s, say so?” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire looked at the young girl with an air of deep and sincere pity, + and then said,— + </p> + <p> + “It is precisely because I am his friend, madam, that I am bound to tell + you the truth. Yes, I know and I appreciate all the noble qualities which + distinguish M. de Boiscoran. I have loved him, and I love him still. But + this is a matter which we have to look at with the mind, and not with the + heart. Jacques is a man; and he will be judged by men. There is clear, + public, and absolute evidence of his guilt on hand. What evidence has he + to offer of his innocence? Moral evidence only.” + </p> + <p> + “O God!” murmured Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “I think, therefore, with my honorable brother”— + </p> + <p> + And M. Magloire bowed to M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “I think, that, if M. de Boiscoran is innocent, he has adopted an + unfortunate system. Ah! if luckily there should be an <i>alibi</i>. He + ought to make haste, great haste, to establish it. He ought not to allow + matters to go on till he is sent up into court. Once there, an accused is + three-fourths condemned already.” + </p> + <p> + For once it looked as if the crimson in M. de Chandore’s cheeks was + growing pale. + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” he exclaimed, “Jacques will not change his system: any one who + knows his mulish obstinacy might be quite sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “And unfortunately he has made up his mind,” said Dionysia, “as M. + Magloire, who knows him so well, will see from this letter of his.” + </p> + <p> + Until now nothing had been said to let the Sauveterre lawyer suspect that + communications had been opened with the prisoner. Now that the letter had + been alluded to, it became necessary to take him into confidence. At first + he was astonished, then he looked displeased; and, when he had been told + every thing, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “This is great imprudence! This is too daring!” + </p> + <p> + Then looking at M. Folgat, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Our profession has certain rules which cannot be broken without causing + trouble. To bribe a clerk, to profit by his weakness and his sympathy”— + </p> + <p> + The Paris lawyer had blushed imperceptibly. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “I should never have advised such imprudence; but, when it was once + committed, I did not feel bound to insist upon its being abandoned: and + even if I should be blamed for it, or more, I mean to profit by it.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire did not reply; but, after having read Jacques’s letter, he + said,— + </p> + <p> + “I am at M. de Boiscoran’s disposal; and I shall go to him as soon as he + is no longer in close confinement. I think, as Miss Dionysia does, that he + will insist upon saying nothing. However, as we have the means of reaching + him by letter,—well, here I am myself ready to profit by the + imprudence that has been committed!—beseech him, in the name of his + own interest, in the name of all that is dear to him, to speak, to + explain, to prove his innocence.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon M. Magloire bowed, and withdrew suddenly, leaving his audience + in consternation, so very evident was it, that he left so suddenly in + order to conceal the painful impression which Jacques’s letter had + produced upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said M. de Chandore, “we will write to him; but we might just + as well whistle. He will wait for the end of the investigation.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” murmured Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + And, after a moment’s reflection, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “We can try, however.” + </p> + <p> + And, without vouchsafing any further explanation, she left the room, and + hastened to her chamber to write the following letter:— + </p> + <p> + “I must speak to you. There is a little gate in our garden which opens + upon Charity Lane, I will wait for you there. However late it may be when + you get these lines, come! + </p> + <p> + “DIONYSIA.” + </p> + <p> + Then having put the note into an envelope, she called the old nurse, who + had brought her up, and, with all the recommendations which extreme + prudence could suggest, she said to her,— + </p> + <p> + “You must see to it that M. Mechinet the clerk gets this note to-night. + Go! make haste!” + </p> + <p> + IX. + </p> + <p> + During the last twenty-four hours, Mechinet had changed so much, that his + sisters recognized him no longer. Immediately after Dionysia’s departure, + they had come to him, hoping to hear at last what was meant by that + mysterious interview; but at the first word he had cried out with a tone + of voice which frightened his sisters to death,— + </p> + <p> + “That is none of your business! That is nobody’s business!” and he had + remained alone, quite overcome by his adventure, and dreaming of the means + to make good his promise without ruining himself. That was no easy matter. + </p> + <p> + When the decisive moment arrived, he discovered that he would never be + able to get the note into M. de Boiscoran’s hands, without being caught by + that lynx-eyed M. Galpin: as the letter was burning in his pocket, he saw + himself compelled, after long hesitation, to appeal for help to the man + who waited on Jacques,—to Trumence, in fine. The latter was, after + all, a good enough fellow; his only besetting sin being unconquerable + laziness, and his only crime in the eyes of the law perpetual vagrancy. He + was attached to Mechinet, who upon former occasions, when he was in jail, + had given him some tobacco, or a little money to buy a glass of wine. He + made therefore no objection, when the clerk asked him to give a letter to + M. de Boiscoran, and to bring back an answer. He acquitted himself, + moreover, faithfully and honestly of his commission. But, because every + thing had gone well once, it did not follow that Mechinet felt quite at + peace. Besides being tormented by the thought that he had betrayed his + duty, he felt wretched in being at the mercy of an accomplice. How easily + might he not be betrayed! A slight indiscretion, an awkward blunder, an + unlucky accident, might do it. What would become of him then? + </p> + <p> + He would lose his place and all his other employments, one by one. He + would lose confidence and consideration. Farewell to all ambitious dreams, + all hopes of wealth, all dreams of an advantageous marriage. And still, by + an odd contradiction, Mechinet did not repent what he had done, and felt + quite ready to do it over again. He was in this state of mind when the old + nurse brought him Dionysia’s letter. + </p> + <p> + “What, again?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + And when he had read the few lines, he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Tell your mistress I will be there!” But in his heart he thought some + untoward event must have happened. + </p> + <p> + The little garden-gate was half-open: he had only to push it to enter. + There was no moon; but the night was clear, and at a short distance from + him, under the trees, he recognized Dionysia, and went towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, sir,” she said, “for having dared to send for you.” + </p> + <p> + Mechinet’s anxiety vanished instantly. He thought no longer of his strange + position. His vanity was flattered by the confidence which this young lady + put in him, whom he knew very well as the noblest, the most beautiful, and + the richest heiress in the whole country. + </p> + <p> + “You were quite right to send for me, madam,” he replied, “if I can be of + any service to you.” + </p> + <p> + In a few words she had told him all; and, when she asked his advice, he + replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I am entirely of M. Folgat’s opinion, and think that grief and isolation + begin to have their effect upon M. de Boiscoran’s mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that thought is maddening!” murmured the poor girl. + </p> + <p> + “I think, as M. Magloire does, that M. de Boiscoran, by his silence, only + makes his situation much worse. I have a proof of that. M. Galpin, who, at + first, was all doubt and anxiety, is now quite reassured. The + attorney-general has written him a letter, in which he compliments his + energy.” + </p> + <p> + “And then.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we must induce M. de Boiscoran to speak. I know very well that he is + firmly resolved not to speak; but if you were to write to him, since you + can write to him”— + </p> + <p> + “A letter would be useless.” + </p> + <p> + “But”— + </p> + <p> + “Useless, I tell you. But I know a means.” + </p> + <p> + “You must use it promptly, madam: don’t lose a moment. There is no time.” + </p> + <p> + The night was clear, but not clear enough for the clerk to see how very + pale Dionysia was. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I must see M. de Boiscoran: I must speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + She expected the clerk to start, to cry out, to protest. Far from it: he + said in the quietest tone,— + </p> + <p> + “To be sure; but how?” + </p> + <p> + “Blangin the keeper, and his wife, keep their places only because they + give them a support. Why might I not offer them, in return for an + interview with M. de Boiscoran, the means to go and live in the country?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said the clerk. + </p> + <p> + And in a lower voice, replying to the voice of his conscience, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “The jail in Sauveterre is not at all like the police-stations and prisons + of larger towns. The prisoners are few in number; they are hardly guarded. + When the doors are shut, Blangin is master within.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go and see him to-morrow,” declared Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + There are certain slopes on which you must glide down. Having once yielded + to Dionysia’s suggestions, Mechinet had, unconsciously, bound himself to + her forever. + </p> + <p> + “No: do not go there, madam,” he said. “You could not make Blangin believe + that he runs no danger; nor could you sufficiently arouse his cupidity. I + will speak to him myself.” + </p> + <p> + “O sir!” exclaimed Dionysia, “how can I ever?”— + </p> + <p> + “How much may I offer him?” asked the clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you think proper—any thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, madam, I will bring you an answer to-morrow, here, and at the same + hour.” + </p> + <p> + And he went away, leaving Dionysia so buoyed up by hope, that all the + evening, and the next day, the two aunts and the marchioness, neither of + whom was in the secret, asked each other incessantly,— + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with the child?” + </p> + <p> + She was thinking, that, if the answer was favorable, ere twenty-four hours + had gone by, she would see Jacques; and she kept saying to herself,— + </p> + <p> + “If only Mechinet is punctual!” + </p> + <p> + He was so. At ten o’clock precisely, he pushed open the little gate, just + as the night before, and said at once,— + </p> + <p> + “It is all right!” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was so terribly excited, that she had to lean against a tree. + </p> + <p> + “Blangin agrees,” the clerk went on. “I promised him sixteen thousand + francs. Perhaps that is rather much?” + </p> + <p> + “It is very little.” + </p> + <p> + “He insists upon having them in gold.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Finally, he makes certain conditions with regard to the interview, which + will appear rather hard to you.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl had quite recovered by this time. + </p> + <p> + “What are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Blangin is taking all possible precautions against detection, although he + is quite prepared for the worst. He has arranged it this way: To-morrow + evening, at six o’clock, you will pass by the jail. The door will stand + open, and Blangin’s wife, whom you know very well, as she has formerly + been in your service, will be standing in the door. If she does not speak + to you, you keep on: something has happened. If she does speak to you, go + up to her, you, quite alone, and she will show you into a small room which + adjoins her own. There you will stay till Blangin, perhaps at a late hour, + thinks he can safely take you to M. de Boiscoran’s cell. When the + interview is over, you come back into the little room, where a bed will be + ready for you, and you spend the night there; for this is the hardest part + of it: you cannot leave the prison till next day.” + </p> + <p> + This was certainly terrible; still, after a moment’s reflection, Dionysia + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Never mind! I accept. Tell Blangin, M. Mechinet, that it is all right.” + </p> + <p> + That Dionysia should accept all the conditions of Blangin the jailer was + perfectly natural; but to obtain M. de Chandore’s consent was a much more + difficult task. The poor girl understood this so well, that, for the first + time in her life, she felt embarrassed in her grandfather’s presence. She + hesitated, she prepared her little speech, and she selected carefully her + words. But in spite of all her skill, in spite of all the art with which + she managed to present her strange request, M. de Chandore had no sooner + understood her project than he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Never, never, never!” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps in his whole life the old gentleman had never expressed himself in + so positive a manner. His brow had never looked so dark. Usually, when his + granddaughter had a petition, his lips might say, “No;” but his eyes + always said, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” he repeated, and in a tone of voice which seemed to admit of + no reply. + </p> + <p> + Surely, in all these painful events, he had not spared himself, and he had + so far done for Dionysia all that she could possibly expect of him. Her + will had been his will. As she had prompted, he had said, “Yes,” or “No.” + What more could he have said or done? + </p> + <p> + Without telling him what she was going to do with it, Dionysia had asked + him for twenty thousand francs, and he had given them to her, however big + the sum might be everywhere, however immense in a small town like + Sauveterre. He was quite ready to give her as much again, or twice as + much, without asking any more questions. + </p> + <p> + But for Dionysia to leave her home one evening at six o’clock, and not to + return to it till the next morning— + </p> + <p> + “That I cannot permit,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + But for Dionysia to spend a night in the Sauveterre jail, in order to have + an interview with her betrothed, who was accused of incendiarism and + murder; to remain there all night, alone, absolutely at the mercy of the + jailer, a hard, coarse, covetous man— + </p> + <p> + “That I will never permit,” exclaimed the old gentleman once more. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia remained calm, and let the storm pass. When her grandfather + became silent, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “But if I must?” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore shrugged his shoulders. She repeated in a louder tone,— + </p> + <p> + “If I must, in order to decide Jacques to abandon this system that will + ruin him, to induce him to speak before the investigation is completed?” + </p> + <p> + “That is not your business, my child,” said the old gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “That is the business of his mother, the Marchioness of Boiscoran. + Whatever Blangin agrees to venture for your sake, he will do as well for + her sake. Let the marchioness go and spend the night at the jail. I agree + to that. Let her see her son. That is her duty.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely she will never shake Jacques’s resolution.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think you have more influence over him than his mother?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not the same thing, dear papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind!” + </p> + <p> + This “never mind” of Grandpapa Chandore was as positive as his + “impossible;” but he had begun to discuss the question, and to discuss + means to listen to arguments on the other side. + </p> + <p> + “Do not insist, my dear child,” he said again. “My mind is made up; and I + assure you”— + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say so, papa,” said the young girl. + </p> + <p> + And her attitude was so determined, and her voice so firm, that the old + gentleman was quite overwhelmed for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “But, if I am not willing,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You will consent, dear papa, you will certainly not force your little + granddaughter, who loves you so dearly, to the painful necessity of + disobeying you for the first time in her life.” + </p> + <p> + “Because, for the first time in her life I am not doing what my + granddaughter wants me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Dear papa, let me tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather listen to me, poor child, and let me show you to what dangers, to + what misfortunes, you expose yourself. To go and spend a night at this + prison would be risking, understand me well, your honor,—that + tender, delicate honor which is tarnished by a breath, which involves the + happiness and the peace of your whole life.” + </p> + <p> + “But Jacques’s honor and life are at stake.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor imprudent girl! How do you know but he would be the very first to + blame you cruelly for such a step?” + </p> + <p> + “He?” + </p> + <p> + “Men are made so: the most perfect devotion irritates them at times.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so. I would rather endure Jacques’s unjust reproaches than the idea + of not having done my duty.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore began to despair. + </p> + <p> + “And if I were to beg you, Dionysia, instead of commanding. If your old + grandfather were to beseech you on his knees to abandon your fatal + project.” + </p> + <p> + “You would cause me fearful pain, dear papa: but it would be all in vain; + for I must resist your prayers, as I must resist your orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Inexorable!” cried the old gentleman. “She is immovable!” And suddenly + changing his tone, he cried,— + </p> + <p> + “But, after all, I am master here.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear papa, pray!” + </p> + <p> + “And since nothing can move you, I will speak to Mechinet, I will let + Blangin know my will.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia, turning as pale as death, but with burning eyes, drew back a + step, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “If you do that, grandpapa, if you destroy my last hope”— + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I swear to you by the sacred memory of my mother, I will be in a convent + to-morrow, and you will never see me again in your life, not even if I + should die, which would certainly soon”— + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore, raising his hands to heaven, and with an accent of genuine + despair, exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my God! Are these our children? And is this what is in store for us + old people? We have spent a lifetime in watching over them; we have + submissively gratified all their fancies; they have been our greatest + anxiety, and our sweetest hope; we have given them our life day by day, + and we would not hesitate to give them our life’s blood drop by drop; they + are every thing to us, and we imagine they love us—poor fools that + we are! One fine day, a man goes by, a careless, thoughtless man, with a + bright eye and a ready tongue, and it is all over. Our child is no longer + our own; our child no longer knows us. Go, old man, and die in your + corner.” + </p> + <p> + Overwhelmed by his grief, the old man staggered and sank into a chair, as + an old oak, cut by the woodman’s axe, trembles and falls. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, this is fearful!” murmured Dionysia. “What you say, grandpapa, is too + fearful. How can you doubt me?” + </p> + <p> + She had knelt down. She was weeping; and her hot tears fell upon the old + gentleman’s hands. He started up as he felt them on his icy-cold hand; + and, making one more effort, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Poor, poor child! And suppose Jacques is guilty, and, when he sees you, + confesses his crime, what then?” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible,” she said; “and still, even if it were so, I ought to + be punished as much as he is; for I know, if he had asked me, I should + have acted in concert with him.” + </p> + <p> + “She is mad!” exclaimed M. de Chandore, falling back into his chair. “She + is mad!” + </p> + <p> + But he was overcome; and the next day, at five in the afternoon, his heart + torn by unspeakable grief, he went down the steep street with his daughter + on his arm. Dionysia had chosen her simplest and plainest dress; and the + little bag she carried on her arm contained not sixteen but twenty + thousand francs. As a matter of course, it had been necessary to take the + marchioness into their confidence; but neither she, nor the Misses + Lavarande, nor M. Folgat, had raised an objection. Down to the prison, + grandfather and grandchild had not exchanged a word; but, when they + reached it, Dionysia said,— + </p> + <p> + “I see Mrs. Blangin at the door: let us be careful.” + </p> + <p> + They came nearer. Mrs. Blangin saluted them. + </p> + <p> + “Come, it is time,” said the young girl. “Till to-morrow, dear papa! Go + home quickly, and be not troubled about me.” + </p> + <p> + Then joining the keeper’s wife, she disappeared inside the prison. + </p> + <p> + X. + </p> + <p> + The prison of Sauveterre is in the castle at the upper end of town, in a + poor and almost deserted suburb. This castle, once upon a time of great + importance, had been dismantled at the time of the siege of Rochelle; and + all that remains are a few badly-repaired ruins, ramparts with fosses that + have been filled up, a gate surmounted by a small belfry, a chapel + converted into a magazine, and finally two huge towers connected by an + immense building, the lower rooms in which are vaulted. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can be more mournful than these ruins, enclosed within an + ivy-covered wall; and nothing would indicate the use that is made of them, + except the sentinel which stands day and night at the gate. Ancient + elm-trees overshadow the vast courts; and on the old walls, as well as in + every crevice, there grow and bloom enough flowers to rejoice a hundred + prisoners. But this romantic prison is without prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “It is a cage without birds,” says the jailer often in his most melancholy + voice. + </p> + <p> + He takes advantage of this to raise his vegetables all along the slopes; + and the exposure is so excellent, that he is always the first in + Sauveterre who had young peas. He has also taken advantage of this—with + leave granted by the authorities—to fit up very comfortable lodgings + for himself in one of the towers. He has two rooms below, and a chamber up + stairs, which you reach by a narrow staircase in the thickness of the + wall. It was to this chamber that the keeper’s wife took Dionysia with all + the promptness of fear. The poor girl was out of breath. Her heart was + beating violently; and, as soon as she was in the room, she sank into a + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” cried the woman. “You are not sick, my dear young lady? Wait, + I’ll run for some vinegar.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” replied Dionysia in a feeble voice. “Stay here, my dear + Colette: don’t go away!” + </p> + <p> + For Colette was her name, though she was as dark as gingerbread, nearly + forty-five years old, and boasted of a decided mustache on her upper lip. + </p> + <p> + “Poor young lady!” she said. “You feel badly at being here.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Dionysia. “But where is your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Down stairs, on the lookout, madam. He will come up directly.” Very soon + afterwards, a heavy step was heard on the stairs; and Blangin came in, + looking pale and anxious, like a man who feels that he is running a great + risk. + </p> + <p> + “Neither seen nor known,” he cried. “No one is aware of your presence + here. I was only afraid of that dog of a sentinel; and, just as you came + by, I had managed to get him round the corner, offering him a drop of + something to drink. I begin to hope I shall not lose my place.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia accepted these words as a summons to speak out. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she said, “don’t mind your place: don’t you know I have promised you + a better one?” + </p> + <p> + And, with a gayety which was very far from being real, she opened her + little bag, and put upon the table the rolls which it contained. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is gold!” said Blangin with eager eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Each one of these rolls contains a thousand francs; and here are + sixteen.” + </p> + <p> + An irresistible temptation seized the jailer. + </p> + <p> + “May I see?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly!” replied the young girl. “Look for yourself and count.” + </p> + <p> + She was mistaken. Blangin did not think of counting, not he. What he + wanted was only to gratify his eye by the sight of the gold, to hear its + sound, to handle it. + </p> + <p> + With feverish eagerness he tore open the wrappings, and let the pieces + fall in cascades upon the table; and, as the heap increased, his lips + turned white, and perspiration broke out on his temples. + </p> + <p> + “And all that is for me?” he said with a stupid laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is yours,” replied Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “I did not know how sixteen thousand francs would look. How beautiful gold + is! Just look, wife.” + </p> + <p> + But Colette turned her head away. She was quite as covetous as her + husband, and perhaps even more excited; but she was a woman, and she knew + how to dissemble. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear young lady!” she said, “never would my old man and myself + have asked you for money, if we had only ourselves to think of. But we + have children.” + </p> + <p> + “Your duty is to think of your children,” replied Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “I know sixteen thousand francs is a big sum. Perhaps you will be sorry to + give us so much money.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not sorry at all: I would even add to it willingly.” And she showed + them one of the other four rolls in her bag. + </p> + <p> + “Then, to be sure, what do I care for my place!” cried Blangin. And, + intoxicated by the sight and the touch of the gold, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “You are at home here, madam; and the jail and the jailer are at your + disposal. What do you desire? Just speak. I have nine prisoners, not + counting M. de Boiscoran and Trumence. Do you want me to set them all + free?” + </p> + <p> + “Blangin!” said his wife reprovingly. + </p> + <p> + “What? Am I not free to let the prisoners go?” + </p> + <p> + “Before you play the master, wait, at least, till you have rendered our + young lady the service which she expects from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Then go and conceal this money,” said the prudent woman; “or it might + betray us.” + </p> + <p> + And, drawing from her cupboard a woollen stocking, she handed it to her + husband, who slipped the sixteen thousand francs into it, retaining about + a dozen gold-pieces, which he kept in his pocket so as always to have in + his hands some tangible evidence of his new fortune. When this was done, + and the stocking, full to overflowing, had been put back in the cupboard + under a pile of linen, she ordered her husband,— + </p> + <p> + “Now, you go down. Somebody might be coming; and, if you were not there to + open when they knock, that might look suspicious.” + </p> + <p> + Like a well-trained husband, Blangin obeyed without saying a word; and + then his wife bethought herself how to entertain Dionysia. She hoped, she + said, her dear young lady would do her the honor to take something. That + would strengthen her, and, besides, help her to pass the time; for it was + only seven o’clock, and Blangin could not take her to M. de Boiscoran’s + cell before ten, without great danger. + </p> + <p> + “But I have dined,” Dionysia objected. “I do not want any thing.” + </p> + <p> + The woman insisted only the more. She remembered (God be thanked!) her + dear young lady’s taste; and she had made her an admirable broth, and some + beautiful dessert. And, while thus talking, she set the table, having made + up her mind that Dionysia must eat at all hazards; at least, so says the + tradition of the place. + </p> + <p> + The eager zeal of the woman had, at least, this advantage,—that it + prevented Dionysia from giving way to her painful thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Night had come. It was nine o’clock; then it struck ten. At last, the + watch came round to relieve the sentinels. A quarter of an hour after + that, Blangin reappeared, holding a lantern and an enormous bunch of keys + in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen Trumence to bed,” he said. “You can come now, madam.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was all ready. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + Then she followed the jailer along interminable passages, through a vast + vaulted hall, in which their steps resounded as in a church, then through + a long gallery. At last, pointing at a massive door, through the cracks of + which the light was piercing, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Here we are.” + </p> + <p> + But Dionysia seized his arm, and said in an almost inaudible voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment.” + </p> + <p> + She was almost overcome by so many successive emotions. She felt her legs + give way under her, and her eyes become dim. In her heart she preserved + all her usual energy; but the flesh escaped from her will and failed her + at the last moment. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sick?” asked the jailer. “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + She prayed to God for courage and strength: when her prayer was finished, + she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Now, let us go in.” + </p> + <p> + And, making a great noise with the keys and the bolts, Blangin opened the + door to Jacques de Boiscoran’s cell. + </p> + <p> + Jacques counted no longer the days, but the hours. He had been imprisoned + on Friday morning, June 23, and this was Wednesday night, June 28, He had + been a hundred and thirty-two hours, according to the graphic description + of a great writer, “living, but struck from the roll of the living, and + buried alive.” + </p> + <p> + Each one of these hundred and thirty-two hours had weighed upon him like a + month. Seeing him pale and haggard, with his hair and beard in disorder, + and his eyes shining brightly with fever, like half-extinguished coals, + one would hardly have recognized in him the happy lord of Boiscoran, free + from care and trouble, upon whom fortune had ever smiled,—that + haughty sceptical young man, who from the height of the past defied the + future. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, that society, obliged to defend itself against criminals, has + invented no more fearful suffering than what is called “close + confinement.” There is nothing that will sooner demoralize a man, crush + his will, and utterly conquer the most powerful energy. There is no + struggle more distressing than the struggle between an innocent man + accused of some crime, and the magistrate,—a helpless being in the + hands of a man armed with unlimited power. + </p> + <p> + If great sorrow was not sacred, to a certain degree, Dionysia might have + heard all about Jacques. Nothing would have been easier. She would have + been told by Blangin, who was watching M. de Boiscoran like a spy, and by + his wife, who prepared his meals, through what anguish he had passed since + his imprisonment. + </p> + <p> + Stunned at first, he had soon recovered; and on Friday and Saturday he had + been quiet and confident, talkative, and almost cheerful. But Sunday had + been a fatal day. Two gendarmes had carried him to Boiscoran to take off + the seals; and on his way out he had been overwhelmed with insults and + curses by the people who had recognized him. He had come back terribly + distressed. + </p> + <p> + On Tuesday, he had received Dionysia’s letter, and answered it. This had + excited him fearfully, and, during a part of the night, Trumence had seen + him walk up and down in his cell with all the gestures and incoherent + imprecations of a madman. + </p> + <p> + He had hoped for a letter on Wednesday. When none came, he had sunk into a + kind of stupor, during which M. Galpin had been unable to draw a word from + him. He had taken nothing all day long but a little broth and a cup of + coffee. When the magistrate left him, he had sat down, leaning his head on + his elbows, facing the window; and there he had remained, never moving, + and so deeply absorbed in his reveries, that he had taken no notice when + they brought him light. He was still in this state, when, a little after + ten o’clock, he heard the grating of the bolts of his cell. He had become + so well acquainted with the prison that he knew all its regulations. He + knew at what hours his meals were brought, at what time Trumence came to + clean up his room, and when he might expect the magistrate. After night, + he knew he was his own master till next morning. So late a visit + therefore, must needs bring him some unexpected news, his liberty, + perhaps,—that visitor for whom all prisoners look so anxiously. + </p> + <p> + He started up. As soon as he distinguished in the darkness the jailer’s + rugged face, he asked eagerly,— + </p> + <p> + “Who wants me?” + </p> + <p> + Blangin bowed. He was a polite jailer. Then he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, I bring you a visitor.” + </p> + <p> + And, moving aside, he made way for Dionysia, or, rather, he pushed her + into the room; for she seemed to have lost all power to move. + </p> + <p> + “A visitor?” repeated M. de Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + But the jailer had raised his lantern, and the poor man could recognize + his betrothed. + </p> + <p> + “You,” he cried, “you here!” + </p> + <p> + And he drew back, afraid of being deceived by a dream, or one of those + fearful hallucinations which announce the coming of insanity, and take + hold of the brains of sick people in times of over-excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia!” he barely whispered, “Dionysia!” + </p> + <p> + If not her own life (for she cared nothing for that), but Jacques’s life, + had at that moment depended on a single word, Dionysia could not have + uttered it. Her throat was parched, and her lips refused to move. The + jailer took it upon himself to answer,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “Miss Chandore.” + </p> + <p> + “At this hour, in my prison!” + </p> + <p> + “She had something important to communicate to you. She came to me”— + </p> + <p> + “O Dionysia!” stammered Jacques, “what a precious friend”— + </p> + <p> + “And I agreed,” said Blangin in a paternal tone of voice, “to bring her in + secretly. It is a great sin I commit; and if it ever should become known—But + one may be ever so much a jailer, one has a heart, after all. I tell you + so merely because the young lady might not think of it. If the secret is + not kept carefully, I should lose my place, and I am a poor man, with wife + and children.” + </p> + <p> + “You are the best of men!” exclaimed M. de Boiscoran, far from suspecting + the price that had been paid for Blangin’s sympathy, “and, on the day on + which I regain my liberty, I will prove to you that we whom you have + obliged are not ungrateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite at your service,” replied the jailer modestly. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, however, Dionysia had recovered her self-possession. She said + gently to Blangin,— + </p> + <p> + “Leave us now, my good friend.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had disappeared, and without allowing M. de Boiscoran to say + a word, she said, speaking very low,— + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, grandpapa has told me, that by coming thus to you at night, + alone, and in secret, I run the risk of losing your affection, and of + diminishing your respect.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you did not think so!” + </p> + <p> + “Grandpapa has more experience than I have, Jacques. Still I did not + hesitate. Here I am; and I should have run much greater risks; for your + honor is at stake, and your honor is my honor, as your life is my life. + Your future is at stake, <i>our</i> future, our happiness, all our hopes + here below.” + </p> + <p> + Inexpressible joy had illumined the prisoner’s face. + </p> + <p> + “O God!” he cried, “one such moment pays for years of torture.” + </p> + <p> + But Dionysia had sworn to herself, as she came, that nothing should turn + her aside from her purpose. So she went on,— + </p> + <p> + “By the sacred memory of my mother, I assure you, Jacques, that I have + never for a moment doubted your innocence.” + </p> + <p> + The unhappy man looked distressed. + </p> + <p> + “You,” he said; “but the others? But M. de Chandore?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I would be here, if he thought you were guilty? My aunts and + your mother are as sure of it as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “And my father? You said nothing about him in your letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father remained in Paris in case some influence in high quarters + should have to be appealed to.” + </p> + <p> + Jacque shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I am in prison at Sauveterre, accused of a fearful crime, and my father + remains in Paris! It must be true that he never really loved me. And yet I + have always been a good son to him down to this terrible catastrophe. He + has never had to complain of me. No, my father does not love me.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia could not allow him to go off in this way. + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, Jacques,” she said: “let me tell you why I ran the risk of + taking this serious step, that may cost me so dear. I come to you in the + name of all your friends, in the name of M. Folgat, the great advocate + whom your mother has brought down from Paris and in the name of M. + Magloire, in whom you put so much confidence. They all agree you have + adopted an abominable system. By refusing obstinately to speak, you rush + voluntarily into the gravest danger. Listen well to what I tell you. If + you wait till the examination is over, you are lost. If you are once + handed over to the court, it is too late for you to speak. You will only, + innocent as you are, make one more on the list of judicial murders.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran had listened to Dionysia in silence, his head bowed + to the ground, as if to conceal its pallor from her. As soon as she + stopped, all out of breath, he murmured,— + </p> + <p> + “Alas! Every thing you tell me I have told myself more than once.” + </p> + <p> + “And you did not speak?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Jacques, you are not aware of the danger you run! You do not know”— + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said, interrupting her in a harsh, hoarse voice,—“I + know that the scaffold, or the galleys, are at the end.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was petrified with horror. + </p> + <p> + Poor girl! She had imagined that she would only have to show herself to + triumph over Jacques’s obstinacy, and that, as soon as she had heard what + he had to say, she would feel reassured. And instead of that— + </p> + <p> + “What a misfortune!” she cried. “You have taken up these fearful notions, + and you will not abandon them!” + </p> + <p> + “I must keep silent.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot. You have not considered!—” + </p> + <p> + “Not considered,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + And in a lower tone he added,— + </p> + <p> + “And what do you think I have been doing these hundred and thirty mortal + hours since I have been alone in this prison,—alone to confront a + terrible accusation, and a still more terrible emergency?” + </p> + <p> + “That is the difficulty, Jacques: you are the victim of your own + imagination. And who could help it in your place? M. Folgat said so only + yesterday. There is no man living, who, after four days’ close + confinement, can keep his mind cool. Grief and solitude are bad + counsellors. Jacques, come to yourself; listen to your dearest friends who + speak to you through me. Jacques, your Dionysia beseeches you. Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + She waited for some seconds; and, as he did not reply, she said, not + without a slight accent of bitterness in her voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Is it not the first duty of an innocent man to establish his innocence?” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner, with a movement of despair, clasped his hands over his brow. + Then bending over Dionysia, so that she felt his breath in her hair, he + said,— + </p> + <p> + “And when he cannot, when he cannot, establish his innocence?” + </p> + <p> + She drew back, pale unto death, tottering so that she had to lean against + the wall, and cast upon Jacques de Boiscoran glances in which the whole + horror of her soul was clearly expressed. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” she stammered. “O God!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, the wretched man! with that laugh which is the last utterance + of despair. And then he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I say that there are circumstances which upset our reason; unheard-of + circumstances, which could make one doubt of one’s self. I say that every + thing accuses me, that every thing overwhelms me, that every thing turns + against me. I say, that if I were in M. Galpin’s place, and if he were in + mine, I should act just as he does.” + </p> + <p> + “That is insanity!” cried Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + But Jacques de Boiscoran did not hear her. All the bitterness of the last + days rose within him: he turned red, and became excited. At last, with + gasping vice, he broke forth,— + </p> + <p> + “Establish my innocence! Ah! that is easily said. But how? No, I am not + guilty: but a crime has been committed; and for this crime justice will + have a culprit. If it is not I who fired at Count Claudieuse, and set + Valpinson on fire, who is it? ‘Where were you,’ they ask me, ‘at the time + of the murder?’ Where was I? Can I tell it? To clear myself is to accuse + others. And if I should be mistaken? Or if, not being mistaken, I should + be unable to prove the truthfulness of my accusation? The murderer and the + incendiary, of course, took all possible precautions to escape detection, + and to let the punishment fall upon me. I was warned beforehand. Ah, if we + could always foresee, could know beforehand! How can I defend myself? On + the first day I said, ‘Such a charge cannot reach me: it is a cloud that a + breath will scatter.’ Madman that I was! The cloud has become an + avalanche, and I may be crushed. I am neither a child nor a coward; and I + have always met phantoms face to face. I have measured the danger, and I + know it is fearful.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia shuddered. She cried,— + </p> + <p> + “What will become of us?” + </p> + <p> + This time M. de Boiscoran heard her, and was ashamed of his weakness. But, + before he could master his feelings, the young girl went on, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “But never mind. These are idle thoughts. Truth soars invincible, + unchangeable, high above all the ablest calculations and the most skilful + combinations. Jacques, you must tell the truth, the whole truth, without + subterfuge or concealment.” + </p> + <p> + “I can do so no longer,” murmured he. + </p> + <p> + “Is it such a terrible secret?” + </p> + <p> + “It is improbable.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia looked at him almost with fear. She did not recognize his old + face, nor his eye, nor the tone of his voice. She drew nearer to him, and + taking his hand between her own small white hands, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “But you can tell it to me, your friend, your”— + </p> + <p> + He trembled, and, drawing back, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “To you less than anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + And, feeling how mortifying such an answer must be, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Your mind is too pure for such wretched intrigues. I do not want your + wedding-dress to be stained by a speck of that mud into which they have + thrown me.” + </p> + <p> + Was she deceived? No; but she had the courage to seem to be deceived. She + went on quietly,— + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then. But the truth will have to be told sooner or later.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to M. Magloire.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Jacques, write down at once what you mean to tell him. Here + are pen and ink: I will carry it to him faithfully.” + </p> + <p> + “There are things, Dionysia, which cannot be written.” + </p> + <p> + She felt she was beaten; she understood that nothing would ever bend that + iron will, and yet she said once more,— + </p> + <p> + “But if I were to beseech you, Jacques, by our past and our future, by + that great and eternal love which you have sworn?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really wish to make my prison hours a thousand times harder than + they are? Do you want to deprive me of my last remnant of strength and of + courage? Have you really no confidence in me any longer? Could you not + believe me a few days more?” + </p> + <p> + He paused. Somebody knocked at the door; and almost at the same time + Blangin the jailer called out through the wicket,— + </p> + <p> + “Time is passing. I want to be down stairs when they relieve guard. I am + running a great risk. I am a father of a family.” + </p> + <p> + “Go home now, Dionysia,” said Jacques eagerly, “go home. I cannot think of + your being seen here.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia had paid dear enough to know that she was quite safe; still she + did not object. She offered her brow to Jacques, who touched it with his + lips; and half dead, holding on to the walls, she went back to the + jailer’s little room. They had made up a bed for her, and she threw + herself on it, dressed as she was, and remained there, immovable, as if + she had been dead, overcome by a kind of stupor which deprived her even of + the faculty of suffering. + </p> + <p> + It was bright daylight, it was eight o’clock, when she felt somebody + pulling her sleeve. The jailer’s wife said to her,— + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady, this would be a good time for you to slip away. + Perhaps they will wonder to see you alone in the street; but they will + think you are coming home from seven o’clock mass.” + </p> + <p> + Without saying a word, Dionysia jumped down, and in a moment she had + arranged her hair and her dress. Then Blangin came, rather troubled at not + seeing her leave the house; and she said to him, giving him one of the + thousand-franc rolls that were still in her bag,— + </p> + <p> + “This is for you: I want you to remember me, if I should need you again.” + </p> + <p> + And, dropping her veil over her face, she went away. + </p> + <p> + XI. + </p> + <p> + Baron Chandore had had one terrible night in his life, every minute of + which he had counted by the ebbing pulse of his only son. + </p> + <p> + The evening before, the physicians had said,— + </p> + <p> + “If he lives this night, he may be saved.” + </p> + <p> + At daybreak he had expired. + </p> + <p> + Well, the old gentleman had hardly suffered more during that fatal night + than he did this night, during which Dionysia was away from the house. He + knew very well that Blangin and his wife were honest people, in spite of + their avarice and their covetousness; he knew that Jacques de Boiscoran + was an honourable man. + </p> + <p> + But still, during the whole night, his old servant heard him walk up and + down his room; and at seven o’clock in the morning he was at the door, + looking anxiously up and down the street. Towards half-past seven, M. + Folgat came up; but he hardly wished him good-morning, and he certainly + did not hear a word of what the lawyer told him to reassure him. At last, + however, the old man cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there she is!” + </p> + <p> + He was not mistaken. Dionysia was coming round the corner. She came up to + the house in feverish haste, as if she had known that her strength was at + an end, and would barely suffice to carry her to the door. + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore met her with a kind of fierce joy, pressed her in his + arms, and said over and over again,— + </p> + <p> + “O Dionysia! Oh, my darling child, how I have suffered! How long you have + been! But it is all over now. Come, come, come!” + </p> + <p> + And he almost carried her into the parlor, and put her down tenderly into + a large easy-chair. He knelt down by her, smiling with happiness; but, + when he had taken her hands in his, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Your hands are burning. You have a fever!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her: she had raised her veil. + </p> + <p> + “You are pale as death!” he went on. “Your eyes are red and swollen!” + </p> + <p> + “I have cried, dear papa,” she replied gently. + </p> + <p> + “Cried! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, I have failed!” + </p> + <p> + As if moved by a sudden shock, M. de Chandore started up, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “By God’s holy name the like has not been heard since the world was made! + What! you went, you Dionysia de Chandore, to him in his prison; you begged + him”— + </p> + <p> + “And he remained inflexible. Yes, dear papa. He will say nothing till + after the preliminary investigation is over.” + </p> + <p> + “We were mistaken in the man: he has no courage and no feeling.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia had risen painfully, and said feebly,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear papa! Do not blame him, do not accuse him! he is so unhappy!” + </p> + <p> + “But what reasons does he give?” + </p> + <p> + “He says the facts are so very improbable that he should certainly not be + believed; and that he should ruin himself if he were to speak as long as + he is kept in close confinement, and has no advocate. He says his position + is the result of a wicked conspiracy. He says he thinks he knows the + guilty one, and that he will denounce the person, since he is forced to do + so in self-defence.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat, who had until now remained a silent witness of the scene, came + up, and asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure, madam, that that was what M. de Boiscoran said?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite sure, sir! And, if I lived a thousand years, I should never + forget the look of his eyes, or the tone of his voice.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore did not allow her to be interrupted again. + </p> + <p> + “But surely, my dear child, Jacques told you—you—something + more precise?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not ask him even what those improbable facts were?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “He said that I was the very last person who could be told.” + </p> + <p> + “That man ought to be burnt over a slow fire,” said M. de Chandore to + himself. Then he added in a louder voice,— + </p> + <p> + “And you do not think all this very strange, very extraordinary?” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me horrible!” + </p> + <p> + “I understand. But what do you think of Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + “I think, dear papa, that he cannot act otherwise, or he would not do it. + Jacques is too intelligent and too courageous to deceive himself easily. + As he alone knows every thing, he alone can judge. I, of course, am bound + to respect his will more than anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + But the old gentleman did not think himself bound to respect it; and, + exasperated as he was by this resignation of his grandchild, he was on the + point of telling her his mind fully, when she got up with some effort, and + said, in an almost inaudible voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I am broken to pieces! Excuse me, grandpapa, if I go to my room.” She + left the parlor. M. de Chandore accompanied her to the door, remained + there till he had seen her get up stairs, where her maid was waiting for + her, and then came back to M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “They are going to kill me, sir!” he cried, with an explosion of wrath and + despair which was almost frightful in a man of his age. “She had in her + eyes the same look that her mother had when she told me, after her + husband’s death, ‘I shall not survive him.’ And she did not survive my + poor son. And then I, old man, was left alone with that child; and who + knows but she may have in her the germ of the same disease which killed + her mother? Alone! And for these twenty years I have held my breath to + listen if she is still breathing as naturally and regularly”— + </p> + <p> + “You are needlessly alarmed,” began the advocate. + </p> + <p> + But Grandpapa Chandore shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I fear my child has been hurt in her heart’s heart. Did you not + see how white she looked, and how faint her voice was? Great God! wilt + thou leave me all alone here upon earth? O God! for which of my sins dost + thou punish me in my children? For mercy’s sake, call me home before she + also leaves me, who is the joy of my life. And I can do nothing to turn + aside this fatality—stupid inane old man that I am! And this Jacques + de Boiscoran—if he were guilty, after all? Ah the wretch! I would + hang him with my own hands!” + </p> + <p> + Deeply moved, M. Folgat had watched the old gentleman’s grief. Now he + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not blame M. de Boiscoran, sir, now that every thing is against him! + Of all of us, he suffers, after all, most; for he is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you still think so?” + </p> + <p> + “More than ever. Little as he has said, he has told Miss Dionysia enough + to confirm me in my conjecture, and to prove to me that I have guessed + right.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “The day we went to Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + The baron tried to remember. + </p> + <p> + “I do not recollect,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you remember,” said the lawyer, “that you left us, so as to permit + Anthony to answer my questions more freely?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure!” cried M. de Chandore, “to be sure! And then you thought”— + </p> + <p> + “I thought I had guessed right, yes, sir; but I am not going to do any + thing now. M. de Boiscoran tells us that the facts are improbable. I + should, therefore, in all probability, soon be astray; but, since we are + now bound to be passive till the investigation is completed, I shall + employ the time in examining the country people, who will, probably, tell + me more than Anthony did. You have, no doubt, among your friends, some who + must be well informed,—M. Seneschal, Dr. Seignebos.” + </p> + <p> + The latter did not keep M. Folgat waiting long; for his name had hardly + been mentioned, when he himself repeated it in the passage, telling a + servant,— + </p> + <p> + “Say it is I, Dr. Seignebos, Dr. Seignebos.” + </p> + <p> + He fell like a bombshell into the room. It was four days now since he had + last presented himself there; for he had not come himself for his report + and the shot he had left in M. Folgat’s hands. He had sent for them, + excusing himself on the score of his many engagements. The fact was, + however, that he had spent nearly the whole of these four days at the + hospital, in company with one of his brother-practitioners, who had been + sent for by the court to proceed, “jointly with Dr. Seignebos,” to an + examination of Cocoleu’s mental condition. + </p> + <p> + “And this is what brings me here,” he cried, still in the door; “for this + opinion, if it is not put into proper order, will deprive M. de Boiscoran + of his best and surest chance of escape.” + </p> + <p> + After what Dionysia had told them, neither M. de Chandore nor M. Folgat + attached much importance to the state of Cocoleu’s mind: still this word + “escape” attracted their attention. There is nothing unimportant in a + criminal trial. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any thing new?” asked the advocate. + </p> + <p> + The doctor first went to close the doors carefully, and then, putting his + cane and broad-brimmed hat upon the table, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “No, there is nothing new. They still insist, as before, upon ruining M. + de Boiscoran; and, in order to do that, they shrink from nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “They! Who are they?” asked M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + The doctor shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “Are you really in doubt, sir?” he replied. “And yet the facts speak + clearly enough. In this department, there is a certain number of + physicians who are not very keenly alive to the honor of their profession, + and who are, to tell the truth, consummate apes.” + </p> + <p> + Grave as the situation was, M. Folgat could hardly suppress a smile, the + doctor’s manner was so very extraordinary. + </p> + <p> + “But there is one of these apes,” he went on, “who, in length of ears and + thickness of skin, surpasses all the others. Well, he is the very one whom + the court has chosen and associated with me.” + </p> + <p> + Upon this subject it was desirable to put a check upon the doctor. M. de + Chandore therefore interrupted him, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “In fine”— + </p> + <p> + “In fine, my learned brother is fully persuaded that his mission as a + physician employed by a court of justice is to say ‘Amen’ to all the + stories of the prosecution. ‘Cocoleu is an idiot,’ says M. Galpin + peremptorily. ‘He is an idiot, or ought to be one,’ reechoes my learned + brother. ‘He spoke on the occasion of the crime by an inspiration from on + high,’ the magistrate goes on to say. ‘Evidently,’ adds the brother, + ‘there was an inspiration from on high.’ For this is the conclusion at + which my learned brother arrives in his report: ‘Cocoleu is an idiot who + had been providentially inspired by a flash of reason.’ He does not say it + in these words; but it amounts to the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + He had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them industriously. + </p> + <p> + “But what do you think, doctor?” asked M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos solemnly put on again his spectacles, and replied coldly,— + </p> + <p> + “My opinion, which I have fully developed in my report, is, that Cocoleu + is not idiotic at all.” + </p> + <p> + M. Chandore started: the proposition seemed to him monstrous. He knew + Cocoleu very well; he had seen him wander through the streets of + Sauveterre during the eighteen months which the poor creature had spent + under the doctor’s treatment. + </p> + <p> + “What! Cocoleu not idiotic?” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + “No!” Dr. Seignebos declared peremptorily; “and you have only to look at + him to be convinced. Has he a large flat face, disproportionate mouth, a + yellow, tanned complexion, thick lips, defective teeth, and squinting + eyes? Does his deformed head sway from side to side, being too heavy to be + supported by his neck? Is his body deformed, and his spine crooked? Do you + find that his stomach is big and pendent, that his hands drop upon his + thighs, that his legs are awkward, and the joints unusually large? These + are the symptoms of idiocy, gentleman, and you do not find them in + Cocoleu. I, for my part, see in him a scamp, who has an iron constitution, + who uses his hands very cleverly, climbs trees like a monkey, and leaps + ditches ten feet wide. To be sure, I do not pretend that his intellect is + normal; but I maintain that he is one of those imbeciles who have certain + faculties very fully developed, while others, more essential, are + missing.” + </p> + <p> + While M. Folgat listened with the most intense interest, M. de Chandore + became impatient, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “The difference between an idiot and an imbecile”— + </p> + <p> + “There is a world between them,” cried the doctor. + </p> + <p> + And at once he went on with overwhelming volubility,— + </p> + <p> + “The imbecile preserves some fragments of intelligence. He can speak, make + known his wants, and express his feelings. He associates ideas, compares + impressions, remembers things, and acquires experience. He is capable of + cunning and dissimulation. He hates and likes and fears. If he is not + always sociable, he is susceptible of being influenced by others. You can + easily obtain perfect control over him. His inconsistency is remarkable; + and still he shows, at times, invincible obstinacy. Finally, imbeciles + are, on account of this semi-lucidity, often very dangerous. You find + among them almost all those monomaniacs whom society is compelled to shut + up in asylums, because they cannot master their instincts.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well said,” repeated M. Folgat, who found here some elements of a + plea,—“very well said.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Such a creature is Cocoleu. Does it follow that I hold him responsible + for his actions? By no means! But it follows that I look upon him as a + false witness brought forth to ruin an honest man.” + </p> + <p> + It was evident that such views did not please M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + “Formerly,” he said, “you did not think so.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I even said the contrary,” replied Dr. Seignebos, not without + dignity. “I had not studied Cocoleu sufficiently, and I was taken in by + him: I confess it openly. But this avowal of mine is an evidence of the + cunning and the astute obstinacy of these wretched creatures, and of their + capacity to carry out a design. After a year’s experience, I sent Cocoleu + away, declaring, and certainly believing, that he was incurable. The fact + is, he did not want to be cured. The country-people, who observe carefully + and shrewdly, were not taken in; they will tell you, almost to a man, that + Cocoleu is bad, but not an idiot. That is the truth. He has found out, + that, by exaggerating his imbecility, he could live without work; and he + has done it. When he was taken in by Count Claudieuse, he was clever + enough to show just so much intelligence as was necessary to make him + endurable, without being compelled to do any work.” + </p> + <p> + “In a word,” said M. de Chandore incredulously, “Cocoleu is a great + actor.” + </p> + <p> + “Great enough to have deceived me,” replied the doctor: “yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning to M. Folgat, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “All this I had told my learned brother, before taking him to the + hospital. There we found Cocoleu more obstinate than ever in his silence, + which even M. Galpin had not induced him to break. All our efforts to + obtain a word from him were fruitless, although it was very evident to me + that he understood very well. I proposed to resort to quite legitimate + means, which are employed to discover feigned defects and diseases; but my + learned brother refused and was encouraged in his resistance by M. Galpin: + I do not know upon what ground. Then I asked that the Countess Claudieuse + should be sent for, as she has a talent of making him talk. M. Galpin + would not permit it—and there we are.” + </p> + <p> + It happens almost daily, that two physicians employed as experts differ in + their opinions. The courts would have a great deal to do, if they had to + force them to agree. They appoint simply a third expert, whose opinion is + decisive. This was necessarily to be done in Cocoleu’s case. + </p> + <p> + “And as necessarily,” continued Dr. Seignebos, “the court, having + appointed a first ass, will associate with me a second ass. They will + agree with each other, and I shall be accused and convicted of ignorance + and presumption.” + </p> + <p> + He came, therefore, as he now said, to ask M. de Chandore to render him a + little service. He wanted the two families, Chandore and Boiscoran, to + employ all their influence to obtain that a commission of physicians from + outside—if possible, from Paris—should be appointed to examine + Cocoleu, and to report on his mental condition. + </p> + <p> + “I undertake,” he said, “to prove to really enlightened men, that this + poor creature is partly pretending to be imbecile, and that his obstinate + speechlessness is only adopted in order to avoid answers which would + compromise him.” + </p> + <p> + At first, however, neither M. de Chandore nor M. Folgat gave any answer. + They were considering the question. + </p> + <p> + “Mind,” said the doctor again, shocked at their silence, “mind, I pray, + that if my view is adopted, as I have every reason to hope, a new turn + will be given to the whole case.” + </p> + <p> + Why yes! The ground of the accusation might be taken from under the + prosecution; and that was what kept M. Folgat thinking. + </p> + <p> + “And that is exactly,” he commenced at last, “what makes me ask myself + whether the discovery of Cocoleu’s rascality would not be rather injurious + than beneficial to M. de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor was furious. He cried,— + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know”— + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can be more simple,” replied the advocate. “Cocoleu’s idiocy is, + perhaps the most serious difficulty in the way of the prosecution, and the + most powerful argument for the defence. What can M. Galpin say, if M. de + Boiscoran charges him with basing a capital charge upon the incoherent + words of a creature void of intelligence, and, consequently, + irresponsible.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! permit me,” said Dr. Seignebos. + </p> + <p> + But M. de Chandore heard every syllable. + </p> + <p> + “Permit yourself, doctor,” he said. “This argument of Cocoleu’s imbecility + is one which you have pleaded from the beginning, and which appeared to + you, you said, so conclusive, that there was no need of looking for any + other.” + </p> + <p> + Before the doctor could find an answer, M. Folgat went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Let it be, on the contrary, established that Cocoleu really knows what he + says, and all is changed. The prosecution is justified, by an opinion of + the faculty, in saying to M. de Boiscoran, ‘You need not deny any longer. + You have been seen; here is a witness.’” + </p> + <p> + These arguments must have struck Dr. Seignebos very forcibly; for he + remained silent for at least ten long seconds, wiping his gold spectacles + with a pensive air. Had he really done harm to Jacques de Boiscoran, while + he meant to help him? But he was not the man to be long in doubt. He + replied in a dry tone,— + </p> + <p> + “I will not discuss that, gentlemen. I will ask you, only one question: + ‘Yes or no, do you believe in M. de Boiscoran’s innocence?’” + </p> + <p> + “We believe in it fully,” replied the two men. + </p> + <p> + “Then, gentlemen, it seems to me we are running no risk in trying to + unmask an impostor.” + </p> + <p> + That was not the young lawyer’s opinion. + </p> + <p> + “To prove that Cocoleu knows what he says,” he replied, “would be fatal, + unless we can prove at the same time that he has told a falsehood, and + that his evidence has been prompted by others. Can we prove that? Have we + any means to prove that his obstinacy in not replying to any questions + arises from his fear that his answers might convict him of perjury?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor would hear nothing more. He said rather uncourteously,— + </p> + <p> + “Lawyer’s quibbles! I know only one thing; and that is truth.” + </p> + <p> + “It will not always do to tell it,” murmured the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, always,” replied the physician,—“always, and at all + hazards, and whatever may happen. I am M. de Boiscoran’s friend; but I am + still more the friend of truth. If Cocoleu is a wretched impostor, as I am + firmly convinced, our duty is to unmask him.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos did not say—and he probably did not confess it to + himself—that it was a personal matter between Cocoleu and himself. + He thought Cocoleu had taken him in, and been the cause of a host of small + witticisms, under which he had suffered cruelly, though he had allowed no + one to see it. To unmask Cocoleu would have given him his revenge, and + return upon his enemies the ridicule with which they had overwhelmed him. + </p> + <p> + “I have made up my mind,” he said, “and, whatever you may resolve, I mean + to go to work at once, and try to obtain the appointment of a commission.” + </p> + <p> + “It might be prudent,” M. Folgat said, “to consider before doing any + thing, to consult with M. Magloire.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not want to consult with Magloire when duty calls.” + </p> + <p> + “You will grant us twenty-four hours, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos frowned till he looked formidable. + </p> + <p> + “Not an hour,” he replied; “and I go from here to M. Daubigeon, the + commonwealth attorney.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, taking his hat and cane, he bowed and left, as dissatisfied as + possible, without stopping even to answer M. de Chandore, who asked him + how Count Claudieuse was, who was, according to reports in town, getting + worse and worse. + </p> + <p> + “Hang the old original!” cried M. de Chandore before the doctor had left + the passage. + </p> + <p> + Then turning to M. Folgat, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “I must, however, confess that you received the great news which he + brought rather coldly.” + </p> + <p> + “The very fact of the news being so very grave,” replied the advocate, + “made me wish for time to consider. If Cocoleu pretends to be imbecile, + or, at least, exaggerates his incapacity, then we have a confirmation of + what M. de Boiscoran last night told Miss Dionysia. It would be the proof + of an odious trap of a long-premeditated vengeance. Here is the + turning-point of the affair evidently.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore was bitterly undeceived. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he said, “you think so, and you refuse to support Dr. Seignebos, + who is certainly an honest man?” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to have twenty-four hours’ delay, because we must absolutely + consult M. de Boiscoran. Could I tell the doctor so? Had I a right to take + him into Miss Dionysia’s secret?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” murmured M. de Chandore, “you are right.” + </p> + <p> + But, in order to write to M. de Boiscoran, Dionysia’s assistance was + necessary; and she did not reappear till the afternoon, looking very pale, + but evidently armed with new courage. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat dictated to her certain questions to ask the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + She hastened to write them in cipher; and about four o’clock the letter + was sent to Mechinet, the clerk. + </p> + <p> + The next evening the answer came. + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Seignebos is no doubt right, my dear friends,” wrote Jacques. “I have + but too good reasons to be sure that Cocoleu’s imbecility is partly + assumed, and that his evidence has been prompted by others. Still I must + beg you will take no steps that would lead to another medical + investigation. The slightest imprudence may ruin me. For Heaven’s sake + wait till the end of the preliminary investigation, which is now near at + hand, from what M. Galpin tells me.” + </p> + <p> + The letter was read in the family circle; and the poor mother uttered a + cry of despair as she heard those words of resignation. + </p> + <p> + “Are we going to obey him,” she said, “when we all know that he is ruining + himself by his obstinacy?” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia rose, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Jacques alone can judge his situation, and he alone, therefore, has the + right to command. Our duty is to obey. I appeal to M. Folgat.” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “Every thing has been done that could be done,” he said. “Now we can only + wait.” + </p> + <p> + XII. + </p> + <p> + The famous night of the fire at Valpinson had been a godsend to the good + people of Sauveterre. They had henceforth an inexhaustible topic of + discussion, ever new and ever rich in unexpected conjectures,—the + Boiscoran case. When people met in the streets, they simply asked,— + </p> + <p> + “What are they doing now?” + </p> + <p> + Whenever, therefore, M. Galpin went from the court-house to the prison, or + came striding up National Street with his stiff, slow step, twenty good + housewives peeped from behind their curtains to read in his face some of + the secrets of the trial. They saw, however, nothing there but traces of + intense anxiety, and a pallor which became daily more marked. They said to + each other,— + </p> + <p> + “You will see poor M. Galpin will catch the jaundice from it.” + </p> + <p> + The expression was commonplace; but it conveyed exactly the feelings of + the ambitious lawyer. This Boiscoran case had become like a festering + wound to him, which irritated him incessantly and intolerably. + </p> + <p> + “I have lost my sleep by it,” he told the commonwealth attorney. Excellent + M. Daubigeon, who had great trouble in moderating his zeal, did not pity + him particularly. He would say in reply,— + </p> + <p> + “Whose fault is it? But you want to rise in the world; and increasing + fortune is always followed by increasing care. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the magistrate. “I have only done my duty, and, if I had to + begin again, I would do just the same.” + </p> + <p> + Still every day he saw more clearly that he was in a false position. + Public opinion, strongly arrayed against M. de Boiscoran, was not, on that + account, very favorable to him. Everybody believed Jacques guilty, and + wanted him to be punished with all the rigor of the law; but, on the other + hand, everybody was astonished that M. Galpin should choose to act as + magistrate in such a case. There was a touch of treachery in this + proceeding against a former friend, in looking everywhere for evidence + against him, in driving him into court, that is to say, towards the + galleys or the scaffold; and this revolted people’s consciences. + </p> + <p> + The very way in which people returned his greeting, or avoided him + altogether, made the magistrate aware of the feelings they entertained for + him. This only increased his wrath against Jacques, and, with it his + trouble. He had been congratulated, it is true, by the attorney-general; + but there is no certainty in a trial, as long as the accused refuses to + confess. The charges against Jacques, to be sure, were so overwhelming, + that his being sent before the court was out of question. But by the side + of the court there is still the jury. + </p> + <p> + “And in fine, my dear,” said the commonwealth attorney, “you have not a + single eye-witness. And from time immemorial an eye-witness has been + looked upon as worth a hundred hearsays.” + </p> + <p> + “I have Cocoleu,” said M. Galpin, who was rather impatient of all these + objections. + </p> + <p> + “Have the doctors decided that he is not an idiot?” + </p> + <p> + “No: Dr. Seignebos alone maintains that doctrine.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, at least Cocoleu is willing to repeat his evidence?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then you have virtually no witness!” + </p> + <p> + Yes, M. Galpin understood it but too well, and hence his anxiety. The more + he studied <i>his</i> accused, the more he found him in an enigmatic and + threatening position, which was ominous of evil. + </p> + <p> + “Can he have an <i>alibi</i>?” he thought. “Or does he hold in reserve one + of those unforeseen revelations, which at the last moment destroy the + whole edifice of the prosecution, and cover the prosecuting attorney with + ridicule?” + </p> + <p> + Whenever these thoughts occurred to him, they made big drops of + perspiration run down his temples; and then he treated his poor clerk + Mechinet like a slave. And that was not all. Although he lived more + retired than ever, since this case had begun, many a report reached him + from the Chandore family. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, he was a thousand miles from imagining that they had actually + opened communications with the prisoner, and, what is more, that this + intercourse was carried on by Mechinet, his own clerk. He would have + laughed if one had come and told him that Dionysia had spent a night in + prison, and paid Jacques a visit. But he heard continually of the hopes + and the plans of the friends and relations of his prisoner; and he + remembered, not without secret fear and trembling that they were rich and + powerful, supported by relations in high places, beloved and esteemed by + everybody. He knew that Dionysia was surrounded by devoted and intelligent + men, by M. de Chandore, M. Seneschal, Dr. Seignebos, M. Magloire, and, + finally, that advocate whom the Marchioness de Boiscoran had brought down + with her from Paris, M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “And Heaven knows what they would not try,” he thought, “to rescue the + guilty man from the hands of justice!” + </p> + <p> + It may well be said, therefore, that never was prosecution carried on with + as much passionate zeal or as much minute assiduity. Every one of the + points upon which the prosecution relied became, for M. Galpin, a subject + of special study. In less than a fortnight he examined sixty-seven + witnesses in his office. He summoned the fourth part of the population of + Brechy. He would have summoned the whole country, if he had dared. + </p> + <p> + But all his efforts were fruitless. After weeks of furious investigations, + the inquiry was still at the same point, the mystery was still + impenetrable. The prisoner had not refuted any of the charges made against + him; but the magistrate had, also, not obtained a single additional piece + of evidence after those he had secured on the first day. + </p> + <p> + There must be an end of this, however. + </p> + <p> + One warm afternoon in July, the good ladies in National Street thought + they noticed that M. Galpin looked even more anxious than usual. They were + right. After a long conference with the commonwealth attorney and the + presiding judge, the magistrate had made up his mind. When he reached the + prison, he went to Jacques’s cell and there, concealing his embarrassment + under the greatest stiffness, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “My painful duty draws to an end, sir: the inquiry with which I have been + charged will be closed. To-morrow the papers, with a list of the objects + to be used as evidence, will be sent to the attorney-general, to be + submitted to the court.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran did not move. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said simply. + </p> + <p> + “Have you nothing to add, sir?” asked M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, except that I am innocent.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin found it difficult to repress his impatience. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, prove it. Refute the charges which have been brought against + you, which overwhelm you, which induce me, the court, and everybody else, + to consider you guilty. Speak, and explain your conduct.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques kept obstinately silent. + </p> + <p> + “Your resolution is fixed,” said the magistrate once more, “you refuse to + say any thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I am innocent.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin saw clearly that it was useless to insist any longer. + </p> + <p> + “From this moment,” he said, “you are no longer in close confinement. You + can receive the visits of your family in the prison parlor. The advocate + whom you will choose will be admitted to your cell to consult with you.” + </p> + <p> + “At last!” exclaimed Jacques with explosive delight; and then he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Am I at liberty to write to M. de Chandore?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied M. Galpin, “and, if you choose to write at once, my clerk + will be happy to carry your letter this evening to its destination.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran availed himself on the spot of this permission; and + he had done very soon, for the note which he wrote, and handed to M. + Mechinet, contained only the few words,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall expect M. Magloire to-morrow morning at nine. + </p> + <p> + “J.” + </p> + <p> + Ever since the day on which they had come to the conclusion that a false + step might have the most fatal consequences, Jacques de Boiscoran’s + friends had abstained from doing anything. Besides, what would have been + the use of any efforts? Dr. Seignebos’s request, though unsupported, had + been at least partially granted; and the court had summoned a physician + from Paris, a great authority on insanity, to determine Cocoleu’s mental + condition. It was on a Saturday that Dr. Seignebos came triumphantly to + announce the good news. It was the following Tuesday that he had to report + his discomfiture. In a furious passion he said,— + </p> + <p> + “There are asses in Paris as well as elsewhere! Or, rather, in these days + of trembling egotism and eager servility, an independent man is as + difficult to find in Paris as in the provinces. I was looking for a <i>savant</i> + who would be inaccessible to petty considerations; and they send me a + trifling fellow, who does not dare to be disagreeable to the gentlemen of + the bar. Ah, it was a cruel disappointment!” + </p> + <p> + And all the time worrying his spectacles, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “I had been informed of the arrival of my learned brother; and I went to + receive him myself at the railway station. The train comes in; and at once + I make out my man in the crowd: a fine head, well set in grizzly hair, a + noble eye, eloquent lips. ‘There he is!’ I say to myself. ‘Hm!’ He looked + rather dandyish, to be sure, a lot of decorations in his buttonhole, + whiskers trimmed as carefully as the box in my garden, and, instead of + honest spectacles, a pair of eye-glasses. But no man is perfect. I go up + to him, I give him my name, we shake hands, I ask him to breakfast, he + accepts; and here we are at table, he doing justice to my Bordeaux, and I + explaining to him the case systematically. When we have done, he wishes to + see Cocoleu. We go to the hospital; and there, after merely glancing at + the creature, he says, ‘That man is simply the most complete idiot I have + ever seen in my life!’ I was a little taken aback, and tried to explain + the matter to him; but he refuses to listen to me. I beseech him to see + Cocoleu once more: he laughs at me. I feel hurt, and ask him how he + explains the evidence which this idiot gave on the night of the fire. He + laughs again, and replies that he does not explain it. I begin to discuss + the question; and he marches off to court. And do you know where he dined + that day? At the hotel with my other learned brother of the commission; + and there they drew up a report which makes of Cocoleu the most perfect + imbecile that was ever dreamed of.” + </p> + <p> + He was walking up and down in the room with long strides, and, unwilling + to listen, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “But Master Galpin need not think of crowing over us yet. The end is not + yet; they will not get rid of Dr. Seignebos so easily. I have said that + Cocoleu was a wretched cheat, a miserable impostor, a false witness, and I + shall prove it. Boiscoran can count upon me.” + </p> + <p> + He broke off here, and, placing himself before M. Folgat, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “And I say M. de Boiscoran may count upon me, because I have my reasons. I + have formed very singular suspicions, sir,—very singular.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat, Dionysia, and the marchioness urged him to explain; but he + declared that the moment had not come yet, that he was not perfectly sure + yet. + </p> + <p> + And he left again, vowing that he was overworked, that he had forsaken his + patients for forty-eight hours, and that the Countess Claudieuse was + waiting for him, as her husband was getting worse and worse. + </p> + <p> + “What can the old man suspect?” Grandpapa Chandore asked again, an hour + after the doctor had left. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat might have replied that these probable suspicions were no doubt + his own suspicions, only better founded, and more fully developed. But why + should he say so, since all inquiry was prohibited, and a single imprudent + word might ruin every thing? Why, also, should he excite new hopes, when + they must needs wait patiently till it should seem good to M. Galpin to + make an end to this melancholy suspense? + </p> + <p> + They heard very little nowadays of Jacques de Boiscoran. The examinations + took place only at long intervals; and it was sometimes four or five days + before Mechinet brought another letter. + </p> + <p> + “This is intolerable agony,” repeated the marchioness over and over again. + </p> + <p> + The end was, however, approaching. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was alone one afternoon in the sitting-room, when she thought she + heard the clerk’s voice in the hall. She went out at once and found him + there. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” she cried, “the investigation is ended!” For she knew very well that + nothing less would have emboldened Mechinet to show himself openly at + their house. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, madam!” replied the good man; “and upon M. Galpin’s own + order I bring you this letter from M. de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + She took it, read it at a single glance, and forgetting every thing, half + delirious with joy, she ran to her grandfather and M. Folgat, calling upon + a servant at the same time to run and fetch M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + In less than an hour, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre arrived; and when + Jacques’s letter had been handed to him, he said with some embarrassment,— + </p> + <p> + “I have promised M. de Boiscoran my assistance, and he shall certainly + have it. I shall be at the prison to-morrow morning as soon as the doors + open, and I will tell you the result of our interview.” + </p> + <p> + He would say nothing more. It was very evident that he did not believe in + the innocence of his client, and, as soon as he had left, M. de Chandore + exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Jacques is mad to intrust his defence to a man who doubts him.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Magloire is an honorable man, papa,” said Dionysia; “and, if he + thought he could compromise Jacques, he would resign.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, indeed, M. Magloire was an honorable man, and quite accessible to + tender sentiments; for he felt very reluctant to go and see the prisoner, + charged as he was with an odious crime, and, as he thought, justly + charged,—a man who had been his friend, and whom, in spite of all, + he could not help loving still. + </p> + <p> + He could not sleep for it that night; and noticed his anxious air as he + crossed the street next morning on his way to the jail. Blangin the keeper + was on the lookout for him, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, come quick, sir! The accused is devoured with impatience.” + </p> + <p> + Slowly, and his heart beating furiously, the famous advocate went up the + narrow stairs. He crossed the long passage; Blangin opened a door; he was + in Jacques de Boiscoran’s cell. + </p> + <p> + “At last you are coming,” exclaimed the unhappy young man, throwing + himself on the lawyer’s neck. “At last I see an honest face, and hold a + trusty hand. Ah! I have suffered cruelly, so cruelly, that I am surprised + my mind has not given way. But now you are here, you are by my side, I am + safe.” + </p> + <p> + The lawyer could not speak. He was terrified by the havoc which grief had + made of the noble and intelligent face of his friend. He was shocked at + the distortion of his features, the unnatural brilliancy of his eyes, and + the convulsive laugh on his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Poor man!” he murmured at last. + </p> + <p> + Jacques misunderstood him: he stepped back, as white as the walls of his + cell. + </p> + <p> + “You do not think me guilty?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + An inexpressibly sad expression convulsed his features. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” he went on with his terrible convulsive laughter, “the + charges must be overwhelming indeed, if they have convinced my best + friends. Alas! why did I refuse to speak that first day? My honor!—what + a phantom! And still, victimized as I am by an infamous conspiracy, I + should still refuse to speak, if my life alone were at stake. But my honor + is at stake. Dionysia’s honor, the honor of the Boiscorans. I shall speak. + You, M. Magloire, shall know the truth, you shall see my innocence in a + word.” + </p> + <p> + And, seizing M. Magloire’s hand, he pressed it almost painfully, as he + added in a hoarse voice,— + </p> + <p> + “One word will explain the whole thing to you: I was the lover of the + Countess Claudieuse!” + </p> + <p> + XIII. + </p> + <p> + If he had been less distressed, Jacques de Boiscoran would have seen how + wisely he had acted in choosing for his defender the great advocate of + Sauveterre. A stranger, M. Folgat, for instance, would have heard him + silently, and would have seen in the revelation nothing but the fact + without giving it a personal value. In M. Magloire, on the contrary, he + saw what the whole country would feel. And M. Magloire, when he heard him + declare that the Countess Claudieuse had been his mistress, looked + indignant, and exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + At least Jacques was not surprised. He had been the first to say that they + would refuse to believe him when he should speak; and this conviction had + largely influenced him in keeping silence so long. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible, I know,” he said; “and still it is so.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me proofs!” said M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + “I have no proofs.” + </p> + <p> + The melancholy and sympathizing expression of the great lawyer changed + instantly. He sternly glanced at the prisoner, and his eye spoke of + amazement and indignation. + </p> + <p> + “There are things,” he said, “which it is rash to affirm when one is not + able to support them with proof. Consider”— + </p> + <p> + “My situation forces me to tell all.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, did you wait so long?” + </p> + <p> + “I hoped I should be spared such a fearful extremity.” + </p> + <p> + “By whom?” + </p> + <p> + “By the countess.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire’s face became darker and darker. + </p> + <p> + “I am not often accused of partiality,” he said. “Count Claudieuse is, + perhaps, the only enemy I have in this country; but he is a bitter, fierce + enemy. To keep me out of the chamber, and to prevent my obtaining many + votes, he stooped to acts unworthy of a gentleman. I do not like him. But + in justice I must say that I look upon the countess as the loftiest, the + purest, and noblest type of the woman, the wife, and the mother.” + </p> + <p> + A bitter smile played on Jacques’s lips. + </p> + <p> + “And still I have been her lover,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “When? How? The countess lived at Valpinson: you lived in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but every year the countess came and spent the month of September in + Paris; and I came occasionally to Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very singular that such an intrigue should never have been + suspected even.” + </p> + <p> + “We managed to take our precautions.” + </p> + <p> + “And no one ever suspected any thing?” + </p> + <p> + “No one.” + </p> + <p> + But Jacques was at last becoming impatient at the attitude assumed by M. + Magloire. He forgot that he had foreseen all the suspicions to which he + found now he was exposed. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask all these questions?” he said. “You do not believe me. + Well, be it so! Let me at least try to convince you. Will you listen to + me?” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire drew up a chair, and sitting down, not as usually, but across + the chair, and resting his arms on the back, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I listen.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran, who had been almost livid, became crimson with + anger. His eyes flashed wrath. That he, he should be treated thus! Never + had all the haughtiness of M. Galpin offended him half as much as this + cool, disdainful condescension on the part of M. Magloire. It occurred to + him to order him out of his room. But what then? He was condemned to drain + the bitter cup to the very dregs: for he must save himself; he must get + out of this abyss. + </p> + <p> + “You are cruel, Magloire,” he said in a voice of ill-suppressed + indignation, “and you make me feel all the horrors of my situation to the + full. Ah, do not apologize! It does not matter. Let me speak.” + </p> + <p> + He walked up and down a few times in his cell, passing his hand repeatedly + over his brow, as if to recall his memory. Then he began, in a calmer tone + of voice,— + </p> + <p> + “It was in the first days of the month of August, in 1866, and at + Boiscoran, where I was on a visit to my uncle, that I saw the Countess + Claudieuse for the first time. Count Claudieuse and my uncle were, at that + time, on very bad terms with each other, thanks to that unlucky little + stream which crosses our estates; and a common friend, M. de Besson, had + undertaken to reconcile them at a dinner to which he had invited both. My + uncle had taken me with him. The countess had come with her husband. I was + just twenty years old; she was twenty-six. When I saw her, I was overcome. + It seemed to me that I had never in all my life met a woman so perfectly + beautiful and graceful; that I had never seen so charming a face, such + beautiful eyes, and such a sweet smile. + </p> + <p> + “She did not seem to notice me. I did not speak to her; and still I felt + within me a kind of presentiment that this woman would play a great, a + fatal part in my life. + </p> + <p> + “This impression was so strong, that, as we left the house, I could not + keep from mentioning it to my uncle. He only laughed, and said that I was + a fool, and that, if my existence should ever be troubled by a woman, it + would certainly not be by the Countess Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + “He was apparently right. It was hard to imagine that any thing should + ever again bring me in contact with the countess. M. de Besson’s attempt + at reconciliation had utterly failed; the countess lived at Valpinson; and + I went back to Paris. + </p> + <p> + “Still I was unable to shake off the impression; and the memory of the + dinner at M. de Besson’s house was still in my mind, when a month later, + at a party at my mother’s brother’s, M. de Chalusse, I thought I + recognized the Countess Claudieuse. It was she. I bowed, and, seeing that + she recognized me, I went up to her, trembling, and she allowed me to sit + down by her. + </p> + <p> + “She told me then that she had come up to Paris for a month, as she did + every year, and that she was staying at her father’s, the Marquis de + Tassar. She had come to this party much against her inclination, as she + disliked going out. She did not dance; and thus I talked to her till the + moment when she left. + </p> + <p> + “I was madly in love when we parted; and still I made no effort to see her + again. It was mere chance again which brought us together. + </p> + <p> + “One day I had business at Melun, and, reaching the station rather late, I + had but just time to jump into the nearest car. In the compartment was the + countess. She told me—and that is all I ever recollected of the + conversation—that she was on her way to Fontainebleau to see a + friend, with whom she spent every Tuesday and Saturday. Usually she took + the nine o’clock train. + </p> + <p> + “This was on a Tuesday; and during the next three days a great struggle + went on in my heart. I was desperately in love with the countess, and + still I was afraid of her. But my evil star conquered; and the next + Saturday, at nine o’clock, I was at the station again. + </p> + <p> + “The countess has since confessed to me that she expected me. When she saw + me, she made a sign; and, when they opened the doors, I managed to find a + place by her side.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire had for some minutes given signs of great impatience; now he + broke forth,— + </p> + <p> + “This is too improbable!” + </p> + <p> + At first Jacques de Boiscoran made no reply. It was no easy task for a + man, tried as he had been of late, to stir up thus the ashes of the past; + and it made him shudder. He was amazed at seeing on his lips this secret + which he had so long buried in his innermost heart. Besides, he had loved, + loved in good earnest; and his love had been returned. And there are + certain sensations which come to us only once in life, and which can never + again be effaced. He was moved to tears. But as the eminent advocate of + Sauveterre repeated his words, and even added,— + </p> + <p> + “No, it is not credible!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not ask you to believe me,” he said gently: “I only ask you to hear + me.” + </p> + <p> + And, overcoming with all his energy the kind of torpor which was mastering + him, he continued,— + </p> + <p> + “This trip to Fontainebleau decided our fate. Other trips followed. The + countess spent her days with her friend, and I passed the long hours in + roaming through the woods. But in the evening we met again at the station. + We took a <i>coupe</i>, which I had engaged beforehand, and I accompanied + her in a carriage to her father’s house. + </p> + <p> + “Finally, one evening, she left her friend’s house at the usual hour; but + she did not return to her father’s house till the day after.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques!” broke in M. Magloire, shocked, as if he had heard a curse,—“Jacques!” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said, “I know you must think it strange. You fancy that there is + no excuse for the man who betrays the confidence of a woman who has once + given herself to him. Wait, before you judge me.” + </p> + <p> + And he went on, in a firmer tone of voice,— + </p> + <p> + “At that time I thought I was the happiest man on earth; and my heart was + full of the most absurd vanity at the thought that she was mine, this + beautiful woman, whose purity was high above all calumny. I had tied + around my neck one of those fatal ropes which death alone can sever, and, + fool that I was, I considered myself happy. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she really loved me at that time. At least she did not hesitate, + and, overcome by the only real great passion of her life, she told me all + that was in her innermost heart. At that time she did not think yet of + protecting herself against me, and of making me her slave. She told me the + secret of her marriage, which had at one time created such a sensation in + the whole country. + </p> + <p> + “When her father, the Marquis de Brissac, had given up his place, he had + soon begun to feel his inactivity weigh upon him, and at the same time he + had become impatient at the narrowness of his means. He had ventured upon + hazardous speculations. He had lost every thing he had; and even his honor + was at stake. In his despair he was thinking of suicide, when chance + brought to his house a former comrade, Count Claudieuse. In a moment of + confidence, the marquis confessed every thing; and the other had promised + to rescue him, and save him from disgrace. That was noble and grand. It + must have cost an immense sum. And the friends of our youth who are + capable of rendering us such services are rare in our day. Unfortunately, + Count Claudieuse could not all the time be the hero he had been at first. + He saw Genevieve de Tassar. He was struck with her beauty; and overcome by + a sudden passion—forgetting that she was twenty, while he was nearly + fifty—he made his friend aware that he was still willing to render + him all the services in his power, but that he desired to obtain + Genevieve’s hand in return. + </p> + <p> + “That very evening the ruined nobleman entered his daughter’s room, and, + with tears in his eyes, explained to her his terrible situation. She did + not hesitate a moment. + </p> + <p> + “‘Above all,’ she said to her father, ‘let us save our honor, which even + your death would not restore. Count Claudieuse is cruel to forget that he + is thirty years older than I am. From this moment I hate and despise him. + Tell him I am willing to be his wife.’ + </p> + <p> + “And when her father, overcome with grief, told her that the count would + never accept her hand in this form, she replied,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, do not trouble yourself about that! I shall do the thing handsomely, + and your friend shall have no right to complain. But I know what I am + worth; and you must remember hereafter, that, whatever service he may + render you, you owe him nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + “Less than a fortnight after this scene, Genevieve had allowed the count + to perceive that he was not indifferent to her and a month later she + became his wife. + </p> + <p> + “The count, on his side, had acted with the utmost delicacy and tact; so + that no one suspected the cruel position of the Marquis de Tassar. He had + placed two hundred thousand francs in his hands to settle his most + pressing debts. In his marriage-contract he had acknowledged having + received with his wife a dower of the same amount; and finally, he had + bound himself to pay to his father-in-law and his wife an annual income of + ten thousand francs. This had absorbed more than half of all he + possessed.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire no longer thought of protesting. Sitting stiffly on his chair, + his eyes wide open, like a man who asks himself whether he is asleep or + awake, he murmured,— + </p> + <p> + “That is incomprehensible! That is unheard of!” + </p> + <p> + Jacques was becoming gradually excited. He went on,— + </p> + <p> + “This is, at least, what the countess told me in her first hours of + enthusiasm. But she told it to me calmly, coldly, like a thing that was + perfectly natural. ‘Certainly,’ she said, ‘Count Claudieuse has never had + to regret the bargain he made. If he has been generous, I have been + faithful. My father owes his life to him; but I have given him years of + happiness to which he was not entitled. If he has received no love, he has + had all the appearance of it, and an appearance far more pleasant than the + reality.’ + </p> + <p> + “When I could not conceal my astonishment, she added, laughing heartily,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Only I brought to the bargain a mental reservation. I reserved to myself + the right to claim my share of earthly happiness whenever it should come + within my reach. That share is yours, Jacques; and do not fancy that I am + troubled by remorse. As long as my husband thinks he is happy, I am within + the terms of the contract.’ + </p> + <p> + “That was the way she spoke at that time, Magloire; and a man of more + experience would have been frightened. But I was a child; I loved her with + all my heart. I admired her genius; I was overcome by her sophisms. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Count Claudieuse aroused us from our dreams. + </p> + <p> + “The countess had committed the only and the last imprudence of her whole + life: she had remained three weeks longer in Paris than was agreed upon; + and her impatient husband threatened to come for her. + </p> + <p> + “‘I must go back to Valpinson,’ she said; ‘for there is nothing I would + not do to keep up the reputation I have managed to make for myself. My + life, your life, my daughter’s life—I would give them all, without + hesitation, to protect my reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “This happened—ah! the dates have remained fixed in my mind as if + engraven on bronze—on the 12th October. + </p> + <p> + “‘I cannot remain longer than a month,’ she said to me, ‘without seeing + you. A month from to-day, that is to say, on 12th November, at three + o’clock precisely, you must be in the forest of Rochepommier, at the Red + Men’s Cross-roads. I will be there.’ + </p> + <p> + “And she left Paris. I was in such a state of depression, that I scarcely + felt the pain of parting. The thought of being loved by such a woman + filled me with extreme pride, and, no doubt, saved me from many an excess. + Ambition was rising within me whenever I thought of her. I wanted to work, + to distinguish myself, to become eminent in some way. + </p> + <p> + “‘I want her to be proud of me,’ I said to myself, ashamed at being + nothing at my age but the son of a rich father.” + </p> + <p> + Ten times, at least, M. Magloire had risen from his chair, and moved his + lips, as if about to make some objection. But he had pledged himself, in + his own mind, not to interrupt Jacques, and he did his best to keep his + pledge. + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime,” Jacques went on, “the day fixed by the countess was + drawing near. I went down to Boiscoran; and on the appointed day, at the + precise hour, I was in the forest at the Red Men’s Cross-roads. I was + somewhat behind time, and I was extremely sorry for it: but I did not know + the forest very well, and the place chosen by the countess for the + rendezvous is in the very thickest part of the old wood. The weather was + unusually severe for the season. The night before, a heavy snow had + fallen: the paths were all white; and a sharp wind blew the flakes from + the heavily-loaded branches. From afar off, I distinguished the countess, + as she was walking, up and down in a kind of feverish excitement, + confining herself to a narrow space, where the ground was dry, and where + she was sheltered from the wind by enormous masses of stone. She wore a + dress of dark-red silk, very long, a cloak trimmed with fur, and a velvet + hat to match her dress. In three minutes I was by her side. But she did + not draw her hand from her muff to offer it to me; and, without giving me + time to apologize for the delay, she said in a dry tone,— + </p> + <p> + “‘When did you reach Boiscoran?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Last night.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘How childish you are!’ she exclaimed, stamping her foot. ‘Last night! + And on what pretext?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I need no pretext to visit my uncle.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And was he not surprised to see you drop from the clouds at this time of + the year?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Why, yes, a little,’ I answered foolishly, incapable as I was of + concealing the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Her dissatisfaction increased visibly. + </p> + <p> + “‘And how did you get here?’ she commenced again. ‘Did you know this + cross-road?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, I inquired about it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘From whom?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘From one of my uncle’s servants; but his information was so imperfect, + that I lost my way.’ + </p> + <p> + “She looked at me with such a bitter, ironical smile, that I stopped. + </p> + <p> + “‘And all that, you think, is very simple,’ she broke in. ‘Do you really + imagine people will think it very natural that you should thus fall like a + bombshell upon Boiscoran, and immediately set out for the Red Men’s + Cross-roads in the forest? Who knows but you have been followed? Who knows + but behind one of these trees there may be eyes even now watching us?’ + </p> + <p> + “And as she looked around with all the signs of genuine fear, I answered,— + </p> + <p> + “‘And what do you fear? Am I not here?’ + </p> + <p> + “I think I can even now see the look in her eyes as she said,— + </p> + <p> + “‘I fear nothing in the world—do you hear me? nothing in the world, + except being suspected; for I cannot be compromised. I like to do as I do; + I like to have a lover. But I do not want it to be known; because, if it + became known, there would be mischief. Between my reputation and my life I + have no choice. If I were to be surprised here by any one, I would rather + it should be my husband than a stranger. I have no love for the count, and + I shall never forgive him for having married me; but he has saved my + father’s honor, and I owe it to him to keep his honor unimpaired. He is my + husband, besides, and the father of my child: I bear his name, and I want + it to be respected. I should die with grief and shame and rage, if I had + to give my arm to a man at whom people might look and smile. Wives are + absurdly stupid when they do not feel that all the scorn with which their + unfortunate husbands are received in the great world falls back upon them. + No. I do not love the count, Jacques, and I love you. But remember, that, + between him and you, I should not hesitate a moment, and that I should + sacrifice your life and your honor, with a smile on my lips, even though + my heart should break, if I could, by doing so, spare him the shadow of a + suspicion.’ + </p> + <p> + “I was about to reply; but she said,— + </p> + <p> + “‘No more! Every minute we stay here increases the danger. What pretext + will you plead for your sudden appearance at Boiscoran?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I do not know,’ I replied. + </p> + <p> + “‘You must borrow some money from your uncle, a considerable sum, to pay + your debts. He will be angry, perhaps; but that will explain your sudden + fancy for travelling in the month of November. Good-by, good-by!’ + </p> + <p> + “All amazed, I cried,— + </p> + <p> + “‘What! You will not let me see you again, at least from afar?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘During this visit that would be the height of imprudence. But, stop! + Stay at Boiscoran till Sunday. Your uncle never stays away from high mass: + go with him to church. But be careful, control yourself. A single + imprudence, one blunder, and I should despise you. Now we must part. You + will find in Paris a letter from me.’” + </p> + <p> + Jacques paused here, looking to read in M. Magloire’s face what impression + his recital had produced so far. But the famous lawyer remained impassive. + He sighed, and continued,— + </p> + <p> + “I have entered into all these details, Magloire, because I want you to + know what kind of a woman the countess is, so that you may understand her + conduct. You see that she did not treat me like a traitor: she had given + me fair warning, and shown me the abyss into which I was going to fall. + Alas! so far from being terrified, these dark sides of her character only + attracted me the more. I admired her imperious air, her courage, and her + prudence, even her total lack of principle, which contrasted so strangely + with her fear of public opinion. I said to myself with foolish pride,— + </p> + <p> + “‘She certainly is a superior woman!’ + </p> + <p> + “She must have been pleased with my obedience at church; for I managed to + check even a slight trembling which seized me when I saw her and bowed to + her as she passed so close to me that my hand touched her dress. I obeyed + her in other ways also. I asked my uncle for six thousand francs, and he + gave them to me, laughing; for he was the most generous man on earth: but + he said at the same time,— + </p> + <p> + “‘I thought you had not come to Boiscoran merely for the purpose of + exploring the forest of Rochepommier.’ + </p> + <p> + “This trifling circumstance increased my admiration for the Countess + Claudieuse. How well she had foreseen my uncle’s astonishment, when I had + not even dreamed of it! + </p> + <p> + “‘She has a genius for prudence,’ I thought. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed she had a genius for it, and a genius for calculation also, + as I soon found out. When I reached Paris, I found a letter from her + waiting for me; but it was nothing more than a repetition of all she had + told me at our meeting. This letter was followed by several others, which + she begged me to keep for her sake, and which all had a number in the + upper corner. + </p> + <p> + “The first time I saw her again, I asked her,— + </p> + <p> + “‘What are these numbers?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘My dear Jacques,’ she replied, ‘a woman ought always to know how many + letters she has written to her lover. Up to now, you must have had nine.’ + </p> + <p> + “This occurred in May, 1867, at Rochefort, where she had gone to be + present at the launching of a frigate, and where I had followed her, at + her suggestion, with a view to spending a few hours in each other’s + company. Like a fool, I laughed at the idea of this epistolary + responsibility, and then I thought no more of it. I was at that time too + busy otherwise. She had recalled to me the fact that time was passing, in + spite of the sadness of our separation, and that the month of September, + the month of her freedom, was drawing near. Should we be compelled again, + like the year before, to resort to these perilous trips to Fontainebleau? + Why not get a house in a remote quarter of town? + </p> + <p> + “Every wish of hers was an order for me. My uncle’s liberality knew no + end. I bought a house.” + </p> + <p> + At last in the midst of all of Jacques’s perplexities, there appeared a + circumstance which might furnish tangible evidence. + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire started, and asked eagerly,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you bought a house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a nice house with a large garden, in Vine Street, Passy.” + </p> + <p> + “And you own it still?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you have the title-papers?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques looked in despair. + </p> + <p> + “Here, again, fate is against me. There is quite a tale connected with + that house.” + </p> + <p> + The features of the Sauveterre lawyer grew dark again, much quicker than + they had brightened up just now. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said,—“a tale, ah!” + </p> + <p> + “I was scarcely of age,” resumed Jacques, “when I wanted to purchase this + house. I dreaded difficulties. I was afraid my father might hear of it; in + fine, I wanted to be as prudent as the countess was. I asked, therefore, + one of my English friends, Sir Francis Burnett, to purchase it in his + name. He agreed; and he handed me, with the necessary bills of sale, also + a paper in which he acknowledged my right as proprietor.” + </p> + <p> + “But then”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! wait a moment. I did not take these papers to my rooms in my father’s + house. I put them into a drawer of a bureau in my house at Passy. When the + war broke out, I forgot them. I had left Paris before the siege began, you + know, being in command of a company of volunteers from this department. + During the two sieges, my house was successively occupied by the National + Guards, the soldiers of the Commune, and the regular troops. When I got + back there, I found the four walls pierced with holes by the shells; but + all the furniture had disappeared, and with it the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “And Sir Francis Burnett?” + </p> + <p> + “He left France at the beginning of the invasion; and I do not know what + has become of him. Two friends of his in England, to whom I wrote, + replied,—the one that he was probably in Australia; the other that + he was dead.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have taken no other steps to secure your rights to a piece of + property which legally belongs to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not till now.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say virtually that there is in Paris a house which has no + owner, is forgotten by everybody, and unknown even to the tax-gatherer?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon! The taxes have always been regularly paid; and the + whole neighborhood knows that I am the owner. But the individuality is not + the same. I have unceremoniously assumed the identity of my friend. In the + eyes of the neighbors, the small dealers near by, the workmen and + contractors whom I have employed, for the servants and the gardener, I am + Sir Francis Burnett. Ask them about Jacques de Boiscoran, and they will + tell you, ‘Don’t know.’ Ask them about Sir Francis Burnett, and they will + answer, ‘Oh, very well!’ and they will give you my portrait.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire shook his head as if he were not fully convinced. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he asked again, “you declare that the Countess Claudieuse has been + at this house?” + </p> + <p> + “More than fifty times in three years.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is so, she must be known there.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But”— + </p> + <p> + “Paris is not like Sauveterre, my dear friend; and people are not solely + occupied with their neighbors’ doings. Vine Street is quite a deserted + street; and the countess took the greatest precautions in coming and + going.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, granted, as far as the outside world is concerned. But within? You + must have had somebody to stay in the house and keep it in order when you + were away, and to wait upon you when you were there?” + </p> + <p> + “I had an English maid-servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, this girl must know the countess?” + </p> + <p> + “She has never caught a glimpse of her even.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “When the countess was coming down, or when she was going away, or when we + wanted to walk in the garden, I sent the girl on some errand. I have sent + her as far as Orleans to get rid of her for twenty-four hours. The rest of + the time we staid up stairs, and waited upon ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + Evidently M. Magloire was suffering. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “You must be under a mistake. Servants are curious, and to hide from them + is only to make them mad with curiosity. That girl has watched you. That + girl has found means to see the countess when she came there. She must be + examined. Is she still in your service?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she left me when the war broke out.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “She wanted to return to England.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we cannot hope to find her again?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe not.” + </p> + <p> + “We must give it up, then. But your man-servant? Old Anthony was in your + confidence. Did you never tell him any thing about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never. Only once I sent for him to come to Vine Street when I had + sprained my foot in coming down stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “So that it is impossible for you to prove that the Countess Claudieuse + ever came to your house in Passy? You have no evidence of it, and no + eye-witness?” + </p> + <p> + “I used to have evidence. She had brought a number of small articles for + her private use; but they have disappeared during the war.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” said M. Magloire, “always the war! It has to answer for every + thing.” + </p> + <p> + Never had any of M. Galpin’s examinations been half as painful to Jacques + de Boiscoran as this series of quick questions, which betrayed such + distressing incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Did I not tell you, Magloire,” he resumed, “that the countess had a + genius for prudence? You can easily conceal yourself when you can spend + money without counting it. Would you blame me for not having any proofs to + furnish? Is it not the duty of every man of honor to do all he can to keep + even a shadow of suspicion from her who has confided herself to his hands? + I have done my duty, and whatever may come of it, I shall not regret it. + Could I foresee such unheard-of emergencies? Could I foresee that a day + might come when I, Jacques de Boiscoran, should have to denounce the + Countess Claudieuse, and should be compelled to look for evidence and + witnesses against her?” + </p> + <p> + The eminent advocate of Sauveterre looked aside; and, instead of replying, + he said in a somewhat changed voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Jacques, go on!” + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran tried to overcome the discouragement which well-nigh + mastered him, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “It was on the 2d September, 1867, that the Countess Claudieuse for the + first time entered this house in Passy, which I had purchased and + furnished for her; and during the five weeks which she spent in Paris, she + came almost every day, and spent several hours there. + </p> + <p> + “At her father’s house she enjoyed absolute and almost uncontrolled + independence. She left her daughter—for she had at that time but one + child—with her mother, the Marchioness de Tassar; and she was free + to go and to come as she liked. + </p> + <p> + “When she wanted still greater freedom, she went to see her friend in + Fontainebleau; and every time she did this she secured twenty-four or + forty-eight hours over and above the time for the journey. I, for my part, + was as perfectly free from all control. Ostensibly, I had gone to Ireland; + in reality, I lived in Vine Street. + </p> + <p> + “These five weeks passed like a dream; and yet I must confess, the parting + was not as painful as might have been supposed. Not that the bright prism + was broken; but I always felt humiliated by the necessity of being + concealed. I began to be tired of these incessant precautions; and I was + quite ready to give up being Sir Francis Burnett, and to resume my + identity. + </p> + <p> + “We had, besides, promised each other never to remain a month without + seeing each other, at least for a few hours; and she had invented a number + of expedients by which we could meet without danger. + </p> + <p> + “A family misfortune came just then to our assistance. My father’s eldest + brother, that kind uncle who had furnished me the means to purchase my + house in Passy, died, and left me his entire fortune. As owner of + Boiscoran, I could, henceforth, live as much as I chose in the province; + and at all events come there whenever I liked, without anybody’s inquiring + for my reasons.” + </p> + <p> + XIV. + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran was evidently anxious to have done with his recital, + to come to that night of the fire at Valpinson, and to learn at last from + the eminent advocate of Sauveterre what he had to fear or to hope. After a + moment’s silence, for his breath was giving out, and after a few steps + across his cell, he went on in a bitter tone of voice,— + </p> + <p> + “But why trouble you with all these details, Magloire? Would you believe + me any more than you do now, if I were to enumerate to you all my meetings + with the Countess Claudieuse, or if I were to repeat all her most trifling + words? + </p> + <p> + “We had gradually learnt to calculate all our movements, and made our + preparations so accurately, that we met constantly, and feared no danger. + We said to each other at parting, or she wrote to me, ‘On such a day, at + such an hour, at such a place;’ and however distant the day, or the hour, + or the place, we were sure to meet. I had soon learned to know the country + as well as the cleverest of poachers; and nothing was so useful to us as + this familiarity with all the unknown hiding-places. The countess, on her + side, never let three months pass by without discovering some urgent + motive which carried her to Rochelle, to Angouleme, or to Paris; and I was + there to meet her. Nothing kept her from these excursions; even when + indisposed, she braved the fatigues of the journey. It is true, my life + was well-nigh spent in travelling; and at any moment, when least expected, + I disappeared for whole weeks. This will explain to you that restlessness + at which my father sneered, and for which you, yourself, Magloire, used to + blame me.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” replied the latter. “I remember.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran did not seem to notice the encouragement. + </p> + <p> + “I should not tell the truth if I were to say that this kind of life was + unpleasant to me. Mystery and danger always add to the charms of love. The + difficulties only increased my passion. I saw something sublime in this + success with which two superior beings devoted all their intelligence and + cleverness to the carrying-on of a secret intrigue. The more fully I + became aware of the veneration with which the countess was looked up to by + the whole country, the more I learned to appreciate her ability in + dissembling and her profound perversity; and I was all the more proud of + her. I felt the pride setting my cheeks aglow when I saw her at Brechy; + for I came there every Sunday for her sake alone, to see her pass calm and + serene in the imposing security of her lofty reputation. I laughed at the + simplicity of all these honest, good people, who bowed so low to her, + thinking they saluted a saint; and I congratulated myself with idiotic + delight at being the only one who knew the true Countess Claudieuse,—she + who took her revenge so bravely in our house in Passy! + </p> + <p> + “But such delights never last long. + </p> + <p> + “It had not taken me long to find out that I had given myself a master, + and the most imperious and exacting master that ever lived. I had almost + ceased to belong to myself. I had become her property; and I lived and + breathed and thought and acted for her alone. She did not mind my tastes + and my dislikes. She wished a thing, and that was enough. She wrote to me, + ‘Come!’ and I had to be instantly on the spot: she said to me, ‘Go!’ an I + had to leave at once. At first I accepted these evidences of her despotism + with joy; but gradually I became tired of this perpetual abdication of my + own will. I disliked to have no control over myself, to be unable to + dispose of twenty-four hours in advance. I began to feel the pressure of + the halter around my neck. I thought of flight. One of my friends was to + set out on a voyage around the world, which was to last eighteen months or + two years, and I had an idea of accompanying him. There was nothing to + retain me. I was, by fortune and position, perfectly independent. Why + should I not carry out my plan? + </p> + <p> + “Ah, why? The prism was not broken yet. I cursed the tyranny of the + countess; but I still trembled when I heard her name mentioned. I thought + of escaping from her; but a single glance moved me to the bottom of my + heart. I was bound to her by the thousand tender threads of habit and of + complicity,—those threads which seem to be more delicate than + gossamer, but which are harder to break than a ship’s cable. + </p> + <p> + “Still, this idea which had occurred to me brought it about that I uttered + for the first time the word ‘separation’ in her presence, asking her what + she would do if I should leave her. She looked at me with a strange air + and asked me, after a moment’s hesitation,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Are you serious? Is it a warning?’ + </p> + <p> + “I dared not carry matters any farther, and, making an effort to smile, I + said,— + </p> + <p> + “‘It is only a joke.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then,’ she said, ‘let us not say any thing more about it. If you should + ever come to that, you would soon see what I would do.’ + </p> + <p> + “I did not insist; but that look remained long in my memory, and made me + feel that I was far more closely bound than I had thought. From that day + it became my fixed idea to break with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you ought to have made an end of it,” said Magloire. + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “That is easily said,” he replied. “I tried it; but I could not do it. Ten + times I went to her, determined to say, ‘Let us part;’ and ten times, at + the last moment, my courage failed me. She irritated me. I almost began to + hate her; but I could not forget how much I had loved her, and how much + she had risked for my sake. Then—why should I not confess it?—I + was afraid of her. + </p> + <p> + “This inflexible character, which I had so much admired, terrified me; and + I shuddered, seized with vague and sombre apprehensions, when I thought + what she was capable of doing. I was thus in the utmost perplexity, when + my mother spoke to me of a match which she had long hoped for. This might + be the pretext which I had so far failed to find. At all events, I asked + for time to consider; and, the first time I saw the countess again, I + gathered all my courage, and said to her,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Do you know what has happened? My mother wants me to marry.’ + </p> + <p> + “She turned as pale as death; and looking me fixedly in the eyes, as if + wanting to read my innermost thoughts, she asked,— + </p> + <p> + “‘And you, what do you want?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I,’ I replied with a forced laugh,—‘I want nothing just now. But + the thing will have to be done sooner or later. A man must have a home, + affections which the world acknowledges’— + </p> + <p> + “‘And I,’ she broke in; ‘what am I to you?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You,’ I exclaimed, ‘you, Genevieve! I love you with all the strength of + my heart. But we are separated by a gulf: you are married.’ + </p> + <p> + “She was still looking at me fixedly. + </p> + <p> + “‘In other words,’ she said, ‘you have loved me as a pastime. I have been + the amusement of your youth, the poetry of twenty years, that love-romance + which every man wants to have. But you are becoming serious; you want + sober affections, and you leave me. Well, be it so. But what is to become + of me when you are married?’ + </p> + <p> + “I was suffering terribly. + </p> + <p> + “‘You have your husband,’ I stammered, ‘your children’— + </p> + <p> + “She stopped me. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I shall go back go live at Valpinson, in that country + full of associations, where every place recalls a rendezvous. I shall live + with my husband, whom I have betrayed; with daughters, one of whom—That + cannot be, Jacques.’ + </p> + <p> + “I had a fit of courage. + </p> + <p> + “‘Still,’ I said, ‘I may have to marry. What would you do?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh! very little,’ she replied. ‘I should hand all your letters to Count + Claudieuse.’” + </p> + <p> + During the thirty years which he had spent at the bar, M. Magloire had + heard many a strange confession; but never in his life had all his ideas + been overthrown as in this case. + </p> + <p> + “That is utterly confounding,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + But Jacques went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Was this threat of the countess meant in earnest? I did not doubt it; but + affecting great composure, I said,— + </p> + <p> + “‘You would not do that.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘By all that I hold dear and sacred in this world,’ she replied, ‘I would + do it.’ + </p> + <p> + “Many months have passed by since that scene, Magloire, many events have + happened; and still I feel as if it had taken place yesterday. I see the + countess still, whiter than a ghost. I still hear her trembling voice; and + I can repeat to you her words almost literally,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! you are surprised at my determination, Jacques. I understand that. + Wives who have betrayed their husbands have not accustomed their lovers to + be held responsible by them. When they are betrayed, they dare not cry + out; when they are abandoned, they submit; when they are sacrificed, they + hide their tears, for to cry would be to avow their wrong. Who would pity + them, besides? Have they not received their well-known punishment? Hence + it is that all men agree, and there are some of them cynical enough to + confess it, that a married woman is a convenient lady-love, because she + can never be jealous, and she may be abandoned at any time. Ah! we women + are great cowards. If we had more courage, you men would look twice before + you would dare speak of love to a married woman. But what no one dares I + will dare. It shall not be said that in our common fault there are two + parts, and that you shall have had all the benefit of it, and that I must + bear all the punishment. What? You might be free to-morrow to console + yourself with a new love; and I—I should have to sink under my shame + and remorse. No, no! Such bonds as those that bind us, riveted by long + years of complicity, are not broken so easily. + </p> + <p> + “‘You belong to me; you are mine; and I shall defend you against all and + every one, with such arms as I possess. I told you that I valued my + reputation more than my life; but I never told you that I valued life. On + the eve of your wedding-day, my husband shall know all. I shall not + survive the loss of my honor; but at least I shall have my revenge. If you + escape the hatred of Count Claudieuse, your name will be bound up with + such a tragic affair that your life will be ruined forever.’ + </p> + <p> + “That was the way she spoke, Magloire, and with a passion of which I can + give you no idea. It was absurd, it was insane, I admit. But is not all + passion absurd and insane? Besides, it was by no means a sudden + inspiration of her pride, which made her threaten me with such vengeance. + The precision of her phrases, the accuracy of her words, all made me feel + that she had long meditated such a blow, and carefully calculated the + effect of every word. + </p> + <p> + “I was thunderstruck. + </p> + <p> + “And as I kept silence for some time, she asked me coldly,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Well?’ + </p> + <p> + “I had to gain time, first of all. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ I said, ‘I cannot understand your passion. This marriage which I + mentioned has never existed as yet, except in my mother’s imagination.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘True?’ she asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘I assure you.’ + </p> + <p> + “She examined me with suspicious eyes. At last she said,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, I believe you. But now you are warned: let us think no more of + such horrors.’ + </p> + <p> + “She might think no more of them, but I could not. + </p> + <p> + “I left her with fury in my heart. + </p> + <p> + “She had evidently settled it all. I had for lifetime this halter around + my neck, which held me tighter day by day and, at the slightest effort to + free myself, I must be prepared for a terrible scandal; for one of those + overwhelming adventures which destroy a man’s whole life. Could I ever + hope to make her listen to reason? No, I was quite sure I could not. + </p> + <p> + “I knew but too well that I should lose my time, if I were to recall to + her that I was not quite as guilty as she would make me out; if I were to + show her that her vengeance would fall less upon myself than upon her + husband and her children; and that, although she might blame the count for + the conditions of their marriage, her daughters, at least, were innocent. + </p> + <p> + “I looked in vain for an opening out of this horrible difficulty. Upon my + honor, Magloire, there were moments when I thought I would pretend getting + married, for the purpose of inducing the countess to act, and of bringing + upon myself these threats which were hanging over me. I fear no danger; + but I cannot bear to know it to exist, and to wait for it with folded + hands: I must go forth and meet it. + </p> + <p> + “The thought that the countess should use her husband for the purpose of + keeping me bound shocked me. It seemed to me ridiculous and ignoble that + she should make her husband the guardian of her love. Did she think I was + afraid of her? + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime, my mother had asked me what was the result of my + reflections on the subject of marriage; and I blushed with shame as I told + her that I was not disposed to marry as yet, as I felt too young to accept + the responsibility of a family. It was so; but, under other circumstances, + I should hardly have put in that plea. I was thus hesitating, and thinking + how and when I should be able to make an end of it, when the war broke + out. I felt naturally bound to offer my services. I hastened to Boiscoran. + They had just organized the volunteers of the district; and they made me + their captain. With them I joined the army of the Loire. In my state of + mind, war had nothing fearful for me: every excitement was welcome that + made me forget the past. There was, consequently, no merit in my courage. + Nevertheless, as the weeks passed, and then the months, without my hearing + a word about the Countess Claudieuse, I began secretly to hope that she + had forgotten me; and that, time and absence doing their work, she was + giving me up. + </p> + <p> + “When peace was made, I returned to Boiscoran; and the countess gave no + more signs of life now than before. I began to feel reassured, and to + recover possession of myself, when one day M. de Chandore invited me to + dinner. I went. I saw Miss Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “I had known her already for some time; and the recollection of her had, + perhaps, had its influence upon my desire to quit the countess. Still I + had always had self-control enough to avoid her lest I should draw some + fatal vengeance upon her. When I was brought in contact with her by her + grandfather, I had no longer the heart to avoid her; and, on the day on + which I thought I read in her eyes that she loved me I made up my mind, + and I resolved to risk every thing. + </p> + <p> + “But how shall I tell you what I suffered, Magloire, and with what anxiety + I asked every evening when I returned to Boiscoran,— + </p> + <p> + “‘No letter yet?’ + </p> + <p> + “None came; and still it was impossible that the Countess Claudieuse + should not have heard of my marriage. My father had called on M. de + Chandore, and asked him for the hand of his grand-daughter for me. I had + been publicly acknowledged as her betrothed; and nothing was now to be + done but to fix the wedding-day. + </p> + <p> + “This silence frightened me.” + </p> + <p> + Exhausted and out of breath, Jacque de Boiscoran paused here, pressing + both of his hands on his chest, as if to check the irregular beating of + his heart. + </p> + <p> + He was approaching the catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + And yet he looked in vain to the advocate for a word or a sign of + encouragement. M. Magloire remained impenetrable: his face remained as + impassive as an iron mask. + </p> + <p> + At last, with a great effort, Jacques resumed,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this calm frightened me more than a storm would have done. To win + Dionysia’s love was too great happiness. I expected a catastrophe, + something terrible. I expected it with such absolute certainty, that I had + actually made up my mind to confess every thing to M. de Chandore. You + know him, Magloire. The old gentleman is the purest and brightest type of + honor itself. I could intrust my secrets to him with as perfect safety as + I formerly intrusted Genevieve’s name to the night winds. + </p> + <p> + “Alas! why did I hesitate? why did I delay? + </p> + <p> + “One word might have saved me; and I should not be here, charged with an + atrocious crime, innocent, and yet condemned to see how you doubt the + truth of my words. + </p> + <p> + “But fate was against me. + </p> + <p> + “After having for a week postponed my confession every day to the next, + one evening, after Dionysia and I had been talking of presentiments, I + said to myself, ‘To-morrow it shall be done.’ + </p> + <p> + “The next morning, I went to Boiscoran much earlier than usual, and on + foot, because I wanted to give some orders to a dozen workmen whom I + employed in my vineyards. I took a short cut through the fields. Alas! not + a single detail has escaped from my memory. When I had given my orders, I + returned to the high road, and there met the priest from Brechy, who is a + friend of mine. + </p> + <p> + “‘You must,’ he said, ‘keep me company for a little distance. As you are + on your way to Sauveterre, it will not delay you much to take the + cross-road which passes by Valpinson and the forest of Rochepommier.’ + </p> + <p> + “On what trifles our fate depends! + </p> + <p> + “I accompanied the priest, and only left him at the point where the + high-road and the cross-road intersect. As soon as I was alone, I hastened + on; and I was almost through the wood, when, all of a sudden, some twenty + yards before me, I saw the Countess Claudieuse coming towards me. In spite + of my emotion, I kept on my way, determined to bow to her, but to pass her + without speaking. I did so, and had gone on a little distance, when I + heard her call me,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Jacques!’ + </p> + <p> + “I stopped; or, rather, I was nailed to the spot by that voice which for a + long time had held such entire control over my heart. She came up to me, + looking even more excited than I was. Her lips trembled, and her eyes + wandered to and fro. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ she said, ‘it is no longer a fancy: this time you marry Miss + Chandore.’ + </p> + <p> + “The time for half-measures had passed. + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ I replied. + </p> + <p> + “‘Then it is really true,’ she said again. ‘It is all over now. I suppose + it would be in vain to remind you of those vows of eternal love which you + used to repeat over and over again. Look down there under that old oak. + They are the same trees, this is the same landscape, and I am still the + same woman; but your heart has changed.’ + </p> + <p> + “I made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “‘You love her very much, do you?’ she asked me. + </p> + <p> + “I kept obstinately silent. + </p> + <p> + “‘I understand,’ she said, ‘I understand you but too well. And Dionysia? + She loves you so much she cannot keep it to herself. She stops her friends + to tell them all about her marriage, and to assure them of her happiness. + Oh, yes, indeed, very happy! That love which was my disgrace is her honor. + I was forced to conceal it like a crime: she can display it as a virtue. + Social forms are, after all, very absurd and unjust; but a fool is he who + tries to defy them.’ + </p> + <p> + “Tears, the very first tears I had ever seen her shed, glittered in her + long silky eyelashes. + </p> + <p> + “‘And to be nothing more to you,—nothing at all! Ah, I was too + cautious! Do you recollect the morning after your uncle’s death, when you, + now a rich man, proposed that we should flee? I refused; I clung to my + reputation. I wanted to be respected. I thought it possible to divide life + into two parts,—one to be devoted to pleasure; the other, to the + hypocrisy of duty. Poor fool that I was! And still I discovered long ago + that you were weary of me. I knew you so well! Your heart was like an open + book to me, in which I read your most secret thoughts. Then I might have + retained you. I ought to have been humble, obliging, submissive. Instead + of that, I tried to command. + </p> + <p> + “‘And you,’ she said after a short pause,—‘are you happy?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I cannot be completely happy as long as I know that you are unhappy. But + there is no sorrow which time does not heal. You will forget’— + </p> + <p> + “‘Never!’ she cried. + </p> + <p> + “And, lowering her voice, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Can I forget you? Alas! my crime is fearful; but the punishment is still + more so.’ + </p> + <p> + “People were coming down the road. + </p> + <p> + “‘Compose yourself,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “She made an effort to control her emotion. The people passed us, saluting + politely. And after a moment she said again,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, and when is the wedding?’ + </p> + <p> + “I trembled. She herself insisted upon an explanation. + </p> + <p> + “‘No day has as yet been fixed,’ I replied. ‘Had I not to see you first? + You uttered once grave threats.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And you were afraid?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No: I was sure I knew you too well to fear that you would punish me for + having loved you, as if that had been a crime. So many things have + happened since the day when you made those threats!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘many things indeed! My poor father is incorrigible. + Once more he has committed himself fearfully; and once more my husband has + been compelled to sacrifice a large sum to save him. Ah, Count Claudieuse + has a noble heart; and it is a great pity I should be the only one towards + whom he has failed to show generosity. Every kindness which he shows me is + a new grievance for me; but, having accepted them all, I have forfeited + the right to strike him, as I had intended to do. You may marry Dionysia, + Jacques; you have nothing to fear from me.’ + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I had not hoped for so much, Magloire. Overcome with joy, I seized + her hand, and raising it to my lips, I said,— + </p> + <p> + “‘You are the kindest of friends.’ + </p> + <p> + “But promptly, as if my lips had burnt her hand, she drew it back, and + said, turning very pale,— + </p> + <p> + “‘No, don’t do that!’ + </p> + <p> + “Then, overcoming her emotion to a certain degree, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “‘But we must meet once more. You have my letters, I dare say.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I have them all.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Well, you must bring them to me. But where? And how? I can hardly absent + myself at this time. My youngest daughter—our daughter, Jacques—is + very ill. Still, an end must be made. Let us see, on Thursday—are + you free then? Yes. Very well, then come on Thursday evening, towards nine + o’clock, to Valpinson. You will find me at the edge of the wood, near the + towers of the old castle, which my husband has repaired.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Is that quite prudent?’ I asked. + </p> + <p> + “‘Have I ever left any thing to chance?’ she replied, ‘and would I be apt, + at this time, to be imprudent? Rely on me. Come, we must part, Jacques. + Thursday, and be punctual!’ + </p> + <p> + “Was I really free? Was the chain really broken? And had I become once + more my own master? + </p> + <p> + “I thought so, and in my almost delirious joy I forgave the countess all + the anxieties of the last year. What do I say? I began to accuse myself of + injustice and cruelty. I admired her for sacrificing herself to my + happiness. I felt, in the fulness of my gratitude, like kneeling down, and + kissing the hem of her dress. + </p> + <p> + “It had become useless now to confide my secret to M. de Chandore. I might + have gone back to Boiscoran. But I was more than half-way; I kept on; and, + when I reached Sauveterre, my face bore such evident trances of my relief, + that Dionysia said to me,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Something very pleasant must have happened to you, Jacques.’ + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, very pleasant! For the first time, I breathed freely as I sat by + her side. I could love her now, without fearing that my love might be + fatal to her. + </p> + <p> + “This security did not last long. As I considered the matter, I thought it + very singular that the countess should have chosen such a place for our + meeting. + </p> + <p> + “‘Can it be a trap?’ I asked, as the day drew nearer. + </p> + <p> + “All day long on Thursday I had the most painful presentiments. If I had + known how to let the countess know, I should certainly not have gone. But + I had no means to send her word; and I knew her well enough to be sure + that breaking my word would expose me to her full vengeance. I dined at + the usual hour; and, when I had finished, I went up to my room, where I + wrote to Dionysia not to expect me that evening, as I should be detained + by a matter of the utmost importance. + </p> + <p> + “I handed the note to Michael, the son of one of my tenants, and told him + to carry it to town without losing a minute. Then I tied up all of the + countess’s letters in a parcel, put it in my pocket, took my gun, and went + out. It might have been eight o’clock; but it was still broad daylight.” + </p> + <p> + Whether M. Magloire accepted every thing that the prisoner said as truth, + or not, he was evidently deeply interested. He had drawn up his chair, and + at every statement he uttered half-loud exclamations. + </p> + <p> + “Under any other circumstances,” said Jacques, “I should have taken one of + the two public roads in going to Valpinson. But troubled, as I was, by + vague suspicions, I thought only of concealing myself and cut across the + marshes. They were partly overflowed; but I counted upon my intimate + familiarity with the ground, and my agility. I thought, moreover, that + here I should certainly not be seen, and should meet no one. In this I was + mistaken. When I reached the Seille Canal, and was just about to cross it, + I found myself face to face with young Ribot, the son of a farmer at + Brechy. He looked so very much surprised at seeing me in such a place, + that I thought to give him some explanation; and, rendered stupid by my + troubles, I told him I had business at Brechy, and was crossing the + marshes to shoot some birds. + </p> + <p> + “‘If that is so,’ he replied, laughing, ‘we are not after the same kind of + game.’ + </p> + <p> + “He went his way; but this accident annoyed me seriously. I continued on + my way, swearing, I fear, at young Ribot, and found that the path became + more and more dangerous. It was long past nine when I reached Valpinson at + last. But the night was clear, and I became more cautious than ever. + </p> + <p> + “The place which the countess had chosen for our meeting was about two + hundred yards from the house and the farm buildings, sheltered by other + buildings, and quite close to the wood. I approached it through this wood. + </p> + <p> + “Hid among the trees, I was examining the ground, when I noticed the + countess standing near one of the old towers: she wore a simple costume of + light muslin, which could be seen at a distance. Finding every thing + quiet, I went up to her; and, as soon as she saw me, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “‘I have been waiting for you nearly an hour.’ + </p> + <p> + “I explained to her the difficulties I had met with on my way there; and + then I asked her,— + </p> + <p> + “‘But where is your husband?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘He is laid up with rheumatism,’ she replied. + </p> + <p> + “‘Will he not wonder at your absence?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No: he knows I am sitting up with my youngest daughter. I left the house + through the little door of the laundry.’ + </p> + <p> + “And, without giving me time to reply, she asked,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Where are my letters?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Here they are,’ I said, handing them to her. + </p> + <p> + “She took them with feverish haste, saying in an undertone,— + </p> + <p> + “‘There ought to be twenty-four.’ + </p> + <p> + “And, without thinking of the insult, she went to work counting them. + </p> + <p> + “‘They are all here,’ she said when she had finished. + </p> + <p> + “Then, drawing a little package from her bosom, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “‘And here are yours.’ + </p> + <p> + “But she did not give them to me. + </p> + <p> + “‘We’ll burn them,’ she said. + </p> + <p> + “I started with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “‘You cannot think of it,’ I cried, ‘here, and at this hour. The fire + would certainly be seen.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘What? Are you afraid? However, we can go into the wood. Come, give me + some matches.’ + </p> + <p> + “I felt in my pockets; but I had none. + </p> + <p> + “‘I have no matches,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, come!—you who smoke all day long,—you who, even in my + presence, could never give up your cigars.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I left my match-box, yesterday, at M. de Chandore’s.’ + </p> + <p> + “She stamped her foot vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “‘Since that is so, I’ll go in and get some.’ + </p> + <p> + “This would have delayed us, and thus would have been an additional + imprudence. I saw that I must do what she wanted, and so I said,— + </p> + <p> + “‘That is not necessary. Wait!’ + </p> + <p> + “All sportsmen know that there is a way to replace matches. I employed the + usual means. I took a cartridge out of my gun, emptied it and its shot, + and put in, instead a piece of paper. Then, resting my gun on the ground, + so as to prevent a loud explosion, I made the powder flash up. + </p> + <p> + “We had fire, and put the letters to the flame. + </p> + <p> + “A few minutes later, and nothing was left of them but a few blackened + fragments, which I crumbled in my hands, and scattered to the winds. + Immovable, like a statue, the Countess Claudieuse had watched my + operations. + </p> + <p> + “‘And that is all,’ she said, ‘that remains of five years of our life, of + our love, and of your vows,—ashes.’ + </p> + <p> + “I replied by a commonplace remark. I was in a hurry to be gone. + </p> + <p> + “She felt this, and cried with great vehemence,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! I inspire you with horror.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘We have just committed a marvellous imprudence,’ I said. + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah! what does it matter?’ + </p> + <p> + “Then, in a hoarse voice, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Happiness awaits you, and a new life full of intoxicating hopes: it is + quite natural that you should tremble. I, whose life is ended, and who + have nothing to look for,—I, in whom you have killed every hope,—I + am not afraid.’ + </p> + <p> + “I saw her anger rising within her, and said very quietly,— + </p> + <p> + “‘I hope you do not repent of your generosity, Genevieve.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Perhaps I do,’ she replied, in an accent which made me tremble. ‘How you + must laugh at me! What a wretched thing a woman is who is abandoned, who + resigns, and sheds tears!’ + </p> + <p> + “Then she went on fiercely,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Confess that you have never loved me really!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Ah, you know very well the contrary!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Still you abandon me for another,—for that Dionysia!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are married: you cannot be mine.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Then if I were free—if I had been a widow’— + </p> + <p> + “‘You would be my wife you know very well.’ + </p> + <p> + “She raised her arms to heaven, like a drowning person; and, in a voice + which I thought they could hear at the house, she cried,— + </p> + <p> + “‘His wife! If I were a widow, I would be his wife! O God! Luckily, that + thought, that terrible thought, never occurred to me before.’” + </p> + <p> + All of a sudden, at these words, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre rose + from his chair, and, placing himself before Jacques de Boiscoran, he + asked, looking at him with one of those glances which seem to pierce our + innermost heart,— + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques had to summon all the energy that was left him to be able to + continue with a semblance of calmness, at least,— + </p> + <p> + “Then I tried every thing in the world to quiet the countess, to move her, + and bring her back to the generous feelings of former days. I was so + completely upset that I hardly knew what I was saying. I hated her + bitterly, and still I could not help pitying her. I am a man; and there is + no man living who would not feel deeply moved at seeing himself the object + of such bitter regrets and such terrible despair. Besides, my happiness + and Dionysia’s honor were at stake. How do I know what I said? I am not a + hero of romance. No doubt I was mean. I humbled myself, I besought her, I + told falsehoods, I vowed to her that it was my family, mainly, who made me + marry. I hoped I should be able, by great kindness and caressing words, to + soften the bitterness of the parting. She listened to me, remaining as + impassive as a block of ice; and, when I paused, she said with a sinister + laugh,— + </p> + <p> + “‘And you tell me all that! Your Dionysia! Ah! if I were a woman like + other women, I would say nothing to-day, and, before the year was over, + you would again be at my feet.’ + </p> + <p> + “She must have been thinking of our meeting at the cross-roads. Or was + this the last outburst of passion at the moment when the last ties were + broken off? I was going to speak again; but she interrupted me bruskly, + saying,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, that is enough! Spare me, at least, the insult of your pity! I’ll + see. I promise nothing. Good-by!’ + </p> + <p> + “And she escaped toward the house, while I remained rooted to the spot, + almost stupefied, and asking myself if she was not, perhaps at that + moment, telling Count Claudieuse every thing. It was at that moment that I + drew from my gun, almost mechanically, the burnt cartridge and put in a + fresh one. Then, as nothing stirred, I went off with rapid strides.” + </p> + <p> + “What time was it?” asked M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + “I could not tell you precisely. My state of mind was such, that I had + lost all idea of time. I went back through the forest of Rochepommier.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Heard nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, from your statement, you could not have been far from Valpinson + when the fire broke out.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true, and, in the open country, I should certainly have seen the + fire; but I was in a dense wood: the trees cut off all view.” + </p> + <p> + “And these same trees prevented the sound of the two shots fired at Count + Claudieuse from reaching your ear?” + </p> + <p> + “They might have helped to prevent it; but there was no need for that. I + was walking against the wind, which was very high; and it is an + established fact, that, under such circumstances, the sound of a gun is + not heard beyond fifty yards.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire once more could hardly restrain his impatience; and, utterly + unconscious that he was even harsher than the magistrate, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “And you think your statement explains every thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that my statement, which is founded upon the most exact truth, + explains the charges brought against me by M. Galpin. It explains how I + tried to keep my visit to Valpinson secret; how I was met in going and in + coming back, and at hours which correspond with the time of the fire. It + explains, finally, how I came at first to deny. It explains how one of my + cartridge-cases was found near the ruins, and why I had to wash my hands + when I reached home.” + </p> + <p> + Nothing seemed to be able to shake the lawyer’s conviction. He asked,— + </p> + <p> + “And the day after, when they came to arrest you, what was your first + impression?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought at once of Valpinson.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you were told that a crime had been committed?” + </p> + <p> + “I said to myself, ‘The countess wants to be a widow.’” + </p> + <p> + All of M. Magloire’s blood seemed to rise in his face. He cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy man! How can you dare accuse the Countess Claudieuse of such a + crime?” + </p> + <p> + Indignation gave Jacques strength to reply,— + </p> + <p> + “Whom else should I accuse? A crime has been committed, and under such + circumstances that it cannot have been committed by any one except by her + or by myself. I am innocent: consequently she is guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not say so at once?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques shrugged his shoulders, and replied in a tone of bitter irony,— + </p> + <p> + “How many times, and in how many ways, do you want me to give you my + reasons? I kept silent the first day, because I did not then know the + circumstances of the crime, and because I was reluctant to accuse a woman + who had given me her love, and who had become criminal from passion; + because, in fine, I did not think at that time that I was in danger. After + that I kept silent because I hoped justice would be able to discover the + truth, or the countess would be unable to bear the idea that I, the + innocent one, should be accused. Still later, when I saw my danger, I was + afraid.” + </p> + <p> + The advocates’ feelings seemed to be revolted. He broke in,— + </p> + <p> + “You do not tell the truth, Jacques; and I will tell you why you kept + silent. It is very difficult to make up a story which is to account for + every thing. But you are a clever man: you thought it over, and you made + out a story. There is nothing lacking in it, except probability. You might + tell me that the Countess Claudieuse has unfairly enjoyed the reputation + of a saint, and that she has given you her love; perhaps I might be + willing to believe it. But when you say she has set her own house on fire, + and taken up a gun to shoot her husband, that I can never, never admit.” + </p> + <p> + “Still it is the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “No; for the evidence of Count Claudieuse is precise. He has seen his + murderer; it was a man who fired at him.” + </p> + <p> + “And who tells you that Count Claudieuse does not know all, and wants to + save his wife, and ruin me? There would be a vengeance for him.” + </p> + <p> + The objection took the advocate by surprise; but he rejected it at once, + and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! be silent, or prove.” + </p> + <p> + “All the letters are burned.” + </p> + <p> + “When one has been a woman’s lover for five years, there are always + proofs.” + </p> + <p> + “But you see there are none.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not insist,” repeated M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + And, in a voice full of pity and emotion, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy man! Do you not feel, that, in order to escape from one crime, + you are committing another which is a thousand times worse?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques stood wringing his hand, and said— + </p> + <p> + “It is enough to drive me mad.” + </p> + <p> + “And even if I, your friend,” continued M. Magloire, “should believe you, + how would that help you? Would any one else believe it? Look here I will + tell you exactly what I think. Even if I were perfectly sure of all the + facts you mention, I should never plead them in my defence, unless I had + proofs. To plead them, understand me well, would be to ruin yourself + inevitably.” + </p> + <p> + “Still they must be pleaded; for they are the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said M. Magloire, “you must look for another advocate.” + </p> + <p> + And he went toward the door. He was on the point of leaving, when Jacques + cried out, almost in agony,— + </p> + <p> + “Great God, he forsakes me!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the advocate; “but I cannot discuss matters with you in the + state of excitement in which you now are. You will think it over, and I + will come again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He left; and Jacques de Boiscoran fell, utterly undone, on one of the + prison chairs. + </p> + <p> + “It is all over,” he stammered: “I am lost.” + </p> + <p> + XV. + </p> + <p> + During all this time, they were suffering intense anxiety at M. de + Chandore’s house. Ever since eight o’clock in the morning the two aunts, + the old gentleman, the marchioness, and M. Folgat had been assembled in + the dining-room, and were there waiting for the result of the interview. + Dionysia had only come down later; and her grandfather could not help + noticing that she had dressed more carefully than usual. + </p> + <p> + “Are we not going to see Jacques again?” she replied with a smile full of + confidence and joy. + </p> + <p> + She had actually persuaded herself that one word from Jacques would + suffice to convince the celebrated lawyer, and that he would reappear + triumphant on M. Magloire’s arm. The others did not share these + expectations. The two aunts, looking as yellow as their old laces, sat + immovable in a corner. The marchioness was trying to hide her tears; and + M. Folgat endeavored to look absorbed in a volume of engravings. M. de + Chandore, who possessed less self-control, walked up and down in the room, + repeating every ten minutes,— + </p> + <p> + “It is wonderful how long time seems when you are waiting!” + </p> + <p> + At ten o’clock no news had come. + </p> + <p> + “Could M. Magloire have forgotten his promise?” said Dionysia, becoming + anxious. + </p> + <p> + “No, he has not forgotten it,” replied a newcomer, M. Seneschal. It was + really the excellent mayor, who had met M. Magloire about an hour before, + and who now came to hear the news, for his own sake, as he said, but + especially for his wife’s sake, who was actually ill with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + Eleven o’clock, and no news. The marchioness got up, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I cannot stand this uncertainty a minute longer. I am going to the + prison.” + </p> + <p> + “And I will go with you, dear mother,” declared Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + But such a proceeding was hardly suitable. M. de Chandore opposed it, and + was supported by M. Folgat, as well as by M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “We might at least send somebody,” suggested the two aunts timidly. + </p> + <p> + “That is a good idea,” replied M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell; and old Anthony came in. He had established himself the + evening before in Sauveterre, having heard that the preliminary + investigation was finished. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had been told what they wanted him to do, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall be back in half an hour.” + </p> + <p> + He nearly ran down the steep street, hastened along National Street, and + then climbed up more slowly Castle Street. When M. Blangin, the keeper, + saw him appear, he turned very pale; for M. Blangin had not slept since + Dionysia had given him the seventeen thousand francs. He, once upon a time + the special friend of all gendarmes, now trembled when one of them entered + the jail. Not that he felt any remorse about having betrayed his duty; oh, + no! but he feared discovery. + </p> + <p> + More than ten times he had changed the hiding-place of his precious + stocking; but, wherever he put it, he always fancied that the eyes of his + visitors were riveted upon that very spot. He recovered, however, from his + fright when Anthony told him his errand, and replied in the most civil + manner,— + </p> + <p> + “M. Magloire came here at nine o’clock precisely. I took him immediately + to M. de Boiscoran’s cell; and ever since they have been talking, + talking.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am. Must I not know every thing that happens in my jail? I + went and listened. You can hear nothing from the passage: they have shut + the wicket, and the door is massive.” + </p> + <p> + “That is strange,” murmured the old servant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and a bad sign,” declared the keeper with a knowing air. “I have + noticed that the prisoners who take so long to state their case to their + advocate always catch the maximum of punishment.” + </p> + <p> + Anthony, of course, did not report to his masters the jailer’s mournful + anticipations; but what he told them about the length of the interview did + not tend to relieve their anxiety. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the color had faded from Dionysia’s cheeks; and the clear ring + of her voice was half drowned in tears, when she said, that it would have + been better, perhaps, if she had put on mourning, and that seeing the + whole family assembled thus reminded her of a funeral. + </p> + <p> + The sudden arrival of Dr. Seignebos cut short her remarks. He was in a + great passion, as usual; and as soon as he entered, he cried,— + </p> + <p> + “What a stupid town Sauveterre is! Nothing but gossip and idle reports! + The people are all of them old women. I feel like running away, and hiding + myself. On my way here, twenty curious people have stopped me to ask me + what M. de Boiscoran is going to do now. For the town is full of rumors. + They know that Magloire is at the jail now; and everybody wants to be the + first to hear Jacques’s story.” + </p> + <p> + He had put his immense broad brimmed hat on the table, and, looking around + the room at all the sad faces he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “And you have no news yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” replied M. Seneschal and M. Folgat at the same breath. + </p> + <p> + “And we are frightened by this delay,” added Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “And why?” asked the physician. + </p> + <p> + Then taking down his spectacles, and wiping them diligently, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Did you think, my dear young lady, that Jacques de Boiscoran’s affair + could be settled in five minutes? If they let you believe that, they did + wrong. I, who despise all concealment, I will tell you the truth. At the + bottom of all these occurrences at Valpinson, there lies, I am perfectly + sure, some dark intrigue. Most assuredly we shall put Jacques out of his + trouble; but I fear it will be hard work.” + </p> + <p> + “M. Magloire!” announced old Anthony. + </p> + <p> + The eminent advocate of Sauveterre entered. He looked so undone, and bore + so evidently the traces of his excitement, that all had the same terrible + thought which Dionysia expressed. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques is lost!” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire did not say no. + </p> + <p> + “I believe he is in danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques,” murmured the old marchioness,—“my son!” + </p> + <p> + “I said in danger,” repeated the advocate; “but I ought to have said, he + is in a strange, almost incredible, unnatural position.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear,” said the marchioness. + </p> + <p> + The lawyer was evidently very much embarrassed; and he looked with + unmistakable distress, first at Dionysia, and then at the two old aunts. + But nobody noticed this, and so he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I must ask to be left alone with these gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + In the most docile manner the Misses Lavarande rose, and took their niece + and Jacques’s mother with them: the latter was evidently near fainting. As + soon as the door was shut, Grandpapa Chandore, half mad with grief, + exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, M. Magloire, thanks for having given me time to prepare my poor + child for the terrible blow. I see but too well what you are going to say. + Jacques is guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” said the advocate: “I have said nothing of the kind. M. de + Boiscoran still protests energetically that he is innocent; but he states + in his defence a fact which is so entirely improbable, so utterly + inadmissible”— + </p> + <p> + “But what does he say?” asked M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “He says that the Countess Claudieuse has been his mistress.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos started, and, readjusting his spectacles, he cried + triumphantly,— + </p> + <p> + “I said so! I have guessed it!” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat had, on this occasion, very naturally, no deliberative voice. He + came from Paris, with Paris ideas; and, whatever he might have been told, + the name of the Countess Claudieuse revealed to him nothing. But, from the + effect which it produced upon the others, he could judge what Jacques’s + accusation meant. Far from being of the doctor’s opinion M. de Chandore + and M. Seneschal both seemed to be as much shocked as M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + “That is incredible,” said one. + </p> + <p> + “That is impossible,” added the other. + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “That is exactly what I told Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + But the doctor was not the man to be surprised at what public opinion + said, much less to fear it. He exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you hear what I say? Don’t you understand me? The proof that the + thing is neither so incredible nor so impossible is, that I had suspected + it. And there were signs of it, I should think. Why on earth should a man + like Jacques, young, rich, well made, in love with a charming girl, and + beloved by her, why should he amuse himself with setting houses on fire, + and killing people? You tell me he did not like Count Claudieuse. Upon my + word! If everybody who does not like Dr. Seignebos were to come and fire + at him forthwith, do you know my body would look like a sieve! Among you + all, M. Folgat is the only one who has not been struck with blindness.” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer tried modestly to protest. + </p> + <p> + “Sir”— + </p> + <p> + But the other cut him short, and went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, you saw it all; and the proof of it is, that you at once went + to work in search of the real motive, the heart,—in fine, the woman + at the bottom of the riddle. The proof of it is, that you went and asked + everybody,—Anthony, M. de Chandore, M. Seneschal, and myself,—if + M. de Boiscoran had not now, or had not had, some love-affair in the + country. They all said No, being far from suspecting the truth. I alone, + without giving you a positive answer, told you that I thought as you did, + and told you so in M. de Chandore’s presence.” + </p> + <p> + “That is so!” replied the old gentleman and M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos was triumphant. Gesticulating, and continually handling his + spectacles, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “You see I have learnt to mistrust appearances; and hence I had my + misgivings from the beginning. I watched the Countess Claudieuse the night + of the fire; and I saw that she looked embarrassed, troubled, suspicious. + I wondered at her readiness to yield to M. Galpin’s whim, and to allow + Cocoleu to be examined; for I knew that she was the only one who could + ever make that so-called idiot talk. You see I have good eyes, gentlemen, + in spite of my spectacles. Well, I swear by all I hold most sacred, on my + Republican faith, I am ready to affirm upon oath, that, when Cocoleu + uttered Jacques de Boiscoran’s name, the countess exhibited no sign of + surprise.” + </p> + <p> + Never before, in their life, had the mayor of Sauveterre and Dr. Seignebos + been able to agree on any subject. This question was not likely to produce + such an effect all of a sudden: hence M. Seneschal said,— + </p> + <p> + “I was present at Cocoleu’s examination, and I noticed, on the contrary, + the amazement of the countess.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor raised his shoulders, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Certainly she said, ‘Ah!’ But that is no proof. I, also, could very + easily say, ‘Ah!’ if anybody should come and tell me that the mayor of + Sauveterre was in the wrong; and still I should not be surprised.” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor!” said M. de Chandore, anxious to conciliate,—“doctor!” + </p> + <p> + But Dr. Seignebos had already turned to M. Magloire, whom he was anxious + to convert, and went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the face of the Countess Claudieuse, expressed amazement; but her + eyes spoke of bitter, fierce hatred, of joy, and of vengeance. And that is + not all. Will you please tell me, Mr. Mayor, when Count Claudieuse was + roused by the fire, was the countess by him? No, she was nursing her + youngest daughter, who had the measles. Hm! What do you think of measles + which make sitting up at night necessary? And when the two shots were + fired, where was the countess then? Still with her daughter, and on the + other side of the house from where the fire was.” + </p> + <p> + The mayor of Sauveterre was no less obstinate than the doctor. He at once + objected,— + </p> + <p> + “I beg you will notice, doctor, that Count Claudieuse himself deposed how, + when he ran to the fire, he found the door shut from within, just as he + had left it a few hours before.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos returned a most ironical bow, and then asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Is there really only one door in the chateau at Valpinson?” + </p> + <p> + “To my knowledge,” said M. de Chandore, “there are at least three.” + </p> + <p> + “And I must say,” added M. Magloire, “that according to M. de Boiscoran’s + statement, the countess, on that evening, had gone out by the laundry-door + when she came to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + “What did I say?” exclaimed the doctor. + </p> + <p> + And, wiping his glasses in a perfect rage, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “And the children! Does Mr. Mayor think it natural that the Countess + Claudieuse, this incomparable mother in his estimation, should forget her + children in the height of the fire?” + </p> + <p> + “What! The poor woman is called out by the discharge of fire-arms; she + sees her house on fire; she stumbles over the lifeless body of her + husband: and you blame her for not having preserved all her presence of + mind.” + </p> + <p> + “That is one view of it; but it is not the one I take. I rather think that + the countess, having been delayed out of doors, was prevented by the fire + from getting in again. I think, also, that Cocoleu came very opportunely; + and that it was very lucky Providence should inspire his mind with that + sublime idea of saving the children at the risk of his life.” + </p> + <p> + This time M. Seneschal made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Supported by all these facts,” continued the doctor, “my suspicions + became so strong that I determined to ascertain the truth, if I could. The + next day I questioned the countess, and, I must confess, rather + treacherously. Her replies and her looks were not such as to modify my + views. When I asked her, looking straight into her eyes, what she thought + of Cocoleu’s mental condition, she nearly fainted; and she could hardly + make me hear her when she said that she occasionally caught glimpses of + intelligence in him. When I asked her if Cocoleu was fond of her, she + said, in a most embarrassed manner, that his devotion was that of an + animal which is grateful for the care taken of him. What do you think of + that, gentlemen? To me it appeared that Cocoleu was at the bottom of the + whole affair; that he knew the truth; and that I should be able to save + Jacques, if I could prove Cocoleu’s imbecility to be assumed, and his + speechlessness to be an imposture. And I would have proved it, if they had + associated with me any one else but this ass and this jackanapes from + Paris.” + </p> + <p> + He paused for a few seconds; but, without giving anybody time to reply, he + went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Now, let us go back to our point of departure, and draw our conclusions. + Why do you think it so improbable and impossible that the countess + Claudieuse should have betrayed her duties? Because she has a world-wide + reputation for purity and prudence. Well. But was not Jacques de + Boiscoran’s reputation as a man of honor also above all doubt? According + to your views, it is absurd to suspect the countess of having had a lover. + According to my notions, it is absurd that Jacques should, overnight, have + become a scoundrel.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that is not the same thing,” said M. Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not!” replied the doctor; “and there you are right, for once. + If M. de Boiscoran had committed this crime, it would be one of those + absurd crimes which are revolting to us; but, if committed by the + countess, it is only the catastrophe prepared by Count Claudieuse on the + day when he married a woman thirty years younger than he was.” + </p> + <p> + The great wrath of Dr. Seignebos was not always as formidable as it + looked. Even when he appeared to be almost beside himself, he never said + more than he intended to say, possessed as he was of that admirable + southern quality, which enabled him to pour forth fire and flames, and to + remain as cold as ice within, But in this case he showed what he thought + fully. He had said quite enough, too, and had presented the whole affair + under such a new aspect, that his friends became very thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “You would have converted me, doctor,” said M. Folgat, “if I had not been + of your opinion before.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure,” added M. de Chandore, after hearing the doctor, “the thing no + longer looks impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is impossible,” said M. Seneschal, like a philosopher. + </p> + <p> + The eminent advocate of Sauveterre alone remained unmoved. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “I had rather admit one hour of utter insanity even than + five years of such monstrous hypocrisy. Jacques may have committed the + crime, and be nothing but a madman; but, if the countess is guilty, one + might despair of mankind, and renounce all faith in this world. I have + seen her, gentlemen, with her husband and her children. No one can feign + such looks of tenderness and affection.” + </p> + <p> + “He will never give her up!” growled Dr. Seignebos,— + </p> + <p> + And touching his friend on the shoulder,—for M. Magloire had been + his friend for many years, and they were quite intimate,—he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! There I recognize my friend, the strange lawyer, who judges others by + himself, and refuses to believe any thing bad. Oh, do not protest! For we + love and honor you for that very faith, and are proud to see you among us + Republicans. But I must confess you are not the man to bring light into + such a dark intrigue. At twenty-eight you married a girl whom you loved + dearly: you lost her, and ever since you have remained faithful to her + memory, and lived so far from all passions that you no longer believe in + their existence. Happy man! Your heart is still at twenty; and with your + grey hair you still believe in the smiles and looks of woman.” + </p> + <p> + There was much truth in this; but there are certain truths which we are + not overfond of hearing. + </p> + <p> + “My simplicity has nothing to do with the matter,” said M. Magloire. “I + affirm and maintain that a man who has been for five years the lover of a + woman must have some proof of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there you are mistaken, master,” said the physician, arranging his + spectacles with an air of self-conceit, which, under other circumstances, + would have been irresistibly ludicrous. + </p> + <p> + “When women determine to be prudent and suspicious,” remarked M. de + Chandore, “they never are so by halves.” + </p> + <p> + “It is evident, besides,” added M. Folgat, “that the Countess Claudieuse + would never have determined upon so bold a crime, if she had not been + quite sure, that after the burning of her letters, no proof could be + brought against her.” + </p> + <p> + “That is it!” cried the doctor. + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire did not conceal his impatience. He said dryly,— + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, gentlemen, it does not depend on you to acquit or condemn + M. de Boiscoran. I am not here to convince you, or to be convinced: I came + to discuss with M. de Boiscoran’s friends our line of conduct, and the + basis of our defence.” + </p> + <p> + And M. Magloire was evidently right in this estimate of his duty. He went + and leaned against the mantelpiece; and, when the others had taken their + seats around him, he began,— + </p> + <p> + “In the first place, I will admit the allegations made by M. de Boiscoran. + He is innocent. He has been the lover of Countess Claudieuse; but he has + no proof. This being granted, what is to be done? Shall I advise him to + send for the magistrate, and to confess it all?” + </p> + <p> + No one replied at first. It was only after a long silence that Dr. + Seignebos said,— + </p> + <p> + “That would be very serious.” + </p> + <p> + “Very serious, indeed,” repeated the famous lawyer. “Our own feelings give + us the measure of what M. Galpin will think. First of all, he, also, will + ask for proof, the evidence of a witness, any thing, in fact. And, when + Jacques tells him that he has nothing to give but his word, M. Galpin will + tell him that he does not speak the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “He might, perhaps, consent to extend the investigation,” said M. + Seneschal. “He might possibly summon the countess.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire nodded, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “He would certainly summon her. But, then, would she confess? It would be + madness to expect that. If she is guilty, she is far too strong-minded to + let the truth escape her. She would deny every thing, haughtily, + magnificently, and in such a manner as not to leave a shadow of doubt.” + </p> + <p> + “That is only too probable,” growled the doctor. “That poor Galpin is not + the strongest of men.” + </p> + <p> + “What would be the result of such a step?” asked M. Magloire. “M. de + Boiscoran’s case would be a hundred times worse; for to his crime would + now be added the odium of the meanest, vilest calumny.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was following with the utmost attention. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “I am very glad to hear my honorable colleague give utterance to that + opinion. We must give up all hope of delaying the proceedings, and let M. + de Boiscoran go into court at once.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore raised his hands to heaven, as if in sheer despair. + </p> + <p> + “But Dionysia will die of grief and shame,” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire, absorbed in his own views, went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, here we are now before the court at Sauveterre, before a jury + composed of people from this district, incapable of prevarication, I am + sure, but, unfortunately, under the influence of that public opinion which + has long since condemned M. de Boiscoran. The proceedings begin; the judge + questions the accused. Will he say what he told me,—that, after + having been the lover of the Countess Claudieuse, he had gone to Valpinson + to carry her back her letters, and to get his own, and that they are all + burnt? Suppose he says so. Immediately then there will arise a storm of + indignation; and he will be overwhelmed with curses and with contempt. + Well, thereupon, the president of the court uses his discretionary powers, + suspends the trial, and sends for the Countess Claudieuse. Since we look + upon her as guilty, we must needs endow her with supernatural energy. She + had foreseen what is coming, and has read over her part. When summoned, + she appears, pale, dressed in black; and a murmur of respectful sympathy + greets her at her entrance. You see her before you, don’t you? The + president explains to her why she has been sent for, and she does not + comprehend. She cannot possibly comprehend such an abominable calumny. But + when she has comprehended it? Do you see the lofty look by which she + crushes Jacques, and the grandeur with which she replies, ‘When this man + had failed in trying to murder my husband, he tried to disgrace his wife. + I intrust to you my honor as a mother and a wife, gentlemen. I shall not + answer the infamous charges of this abject calumniator.’” + </p> + <p> + “But that means the galleys for Jacques,” exclaimed M. de Chandore, “or + even the scaffold!” + </p> + <p> + “That would be the maximum, at all events,” replied the advocate of + Sauveterre. “But the trial goes on; the prosecuting attorney demands an + overwhelming punishment; and at last the prisoner’s council is called upon + to speak. Gentlemen, you were impatient at my persistence. I do not + credit, I confess, the statement made by M. de Boiscoran. But my young + colleague here does credit it. Well, let him tell us candidly. Would he + dare to plead this statement, and assert that the Countess Claudieuse had + been Jacques’s mistress?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat looked annoyed. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know,” he said in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know you would not,” exclaimed M. Magloire; “and you would be + right, for you would risk your reputation without the slightest chance of + saving Jacques. Yes, no chance whatever! For after all, let us suppose, + what can hardly be even supposed, you should prove that Jacques has told + the truth, that he has been the lover of the countess. What would happen + then? They arrest the countess. Do they release M. de Boiscoran on that + account? Certainly not! They keep him in prison, and say to him. ‘This + woman has attempted her husband’s life; but she had been your mistress, + and you are her accomplice.’ + </p> + <p> + “That is the situation, gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire had stripped it of all unnecessary comments, of idle + conjecture, and all sentimental phraseology, and placed it before them as + it had to be looked at, in all its fearful simplicity. + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore was terrified. He rose, and said in an almost inaudible + voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, all is over indeed! Innocent, or guilty, Jacques de Boiscoran will be + condemned.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “And that is,” continued the old gentleman, “what you call justice!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” sighed M. Seneschal, “it is useless to deny it: trials by jury are + a lottery.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore, driven nearly to madness by his despair, interrupted him,— + </p> + <p> + “In other words, Jacques’s honor and life depend at this hour on a chance,—on + the weather on the day of the trial, or the health of a juror. And if + Jacques was the only one! But there is Dionysia’s life, gentlemen, my + child’s life, also at stake. If you strike Jacques, you strike Dionysia!” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat could hardly restrain a tear. M. Seneschal, and even the doctor, + shuddered at such grief in an old man, who was threatened in all that was + dearest to him,—in his one great love upon earth. He had taken the + hand of the great advocate of Sauveterre, and, pressing it convulsively, + he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “You will save him, Magloire, won’t you? What does it matter whether he be + innocent or guilty, since Dionysia loves him? You have saved so many in + your life! It is well known the judges cannot resist the weight of your + words. You will find means to save a poor, unhappy man who once was your + friend.” + </p> + <p> + The eminent lawyer looked cast-down, as if he had been guilty himself. + When Dr. Seignebos saw this, he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, friend Magloire? Are you no longer the man whose + marvellous eloquence is the pride of our country? Hold your head up: for + shame! Never was a nobler cause intrusted to you.” + </p> + <p> + But he shook his head, and murmured,— + </p> + <p> + “I have no faith in it; and I cannot plead when my conscience does not + furnish the arguments.” + </p> + <p> + And becoming more and more embarrassed, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Seignebos was right in saying just now, I am not the man for such a + cause. Here all my experience would be of no use. It will be better to + intrust it to my young brother here.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time in his life, M. Folgat came here upon a case such as + enables a man to rise to eminence, and to open a great future before him. + For the first time, he came upon a case in which were united all the + elements of supreme interest,—greatness of crime, eminence of + victim, character of the accused, mystery, variety of opinions, difficulty + of defence, and uncertainty of issue,—one of those causes for which + an advocate is filled with enthusiasm, which he seizes upon with all his + energies, and in which he shares all the anxiety and all the hopes with + his client. + </p> + <p> + He would readily have given five years’ income to be offered the + management of this case; but he was, above all, an honest man. He said, + therefore,— + </p> + <p> + “You would not think of abandoning M. de Boiscoran, M. Magloire?” + </p> + <p> + “You will be more useful to him than I can be,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps M. Folgat was inwardly of the same opinion. Still he said,— + </p> + <p> + “You have not considered what an effect this would have.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “What would the public think if they heard all of a sudden that you had + withdrawn? ‘This affair of M. de Boiscoran must be a very bad one indeed,’ + they would say, ‘that M. Magloire should refuse to plead in it.’ And that + would be an additional burden laid upon the unfortunate man.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor gave his friend no time to reply. + </p> + <p> + “Magloire is not at liberty to withdraw,” he said, “but he has the right + to associate a brother-lawyer with himself. He must remain the advocate + and counsel of M. de Boiscoran; but M. Folgat can lend him the assistance + of his advice, the support of his youth and his activity, and even of his + eloquence.” + </p> + <p> + A passing blush colored the cheeks of the young lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “I am entirely at M. Magloire’s service,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The famous advocate of Sauveterre considered a while. After a few moments + he turned to his young colleague, and asked him,— + </p> + <p> + “Have you any plan? Any idea? What would you do?” + </p> + <p> + To the astonishment of all, M. Folgat now revealed his true character to + some extent. He looked taller, his face brightened up, his eyes shone + brightly, and he said in a full, sonorous voice,—a voice which by + its metallic ring made all hearts vibrate,— + </p> + <p> + “First of all, I should go and see M. de Boiscoran. He alone should + determine my final decision. But my plan is formed now. I, gentlemen, I + have faith, as I told you before. The man whom Miss Dionysia loves cannot + be a criminal. What would I do? I would prove the truth of M. de + Boiscoran’s statement. Can that be done? I hope so. He tells us that there + are no proofs or witnesses of his intimacy with the Countess Claudieuse. I + am sure he is mistaken. She has shown, he says, extraordinary care and + prudence. That may be. But mistrust challenges suspicion; and, when you + take the greatest precautions, you are most likely to be watched. You want + to hide, and you are discovered. You see nobody; but they see you. + </p> + <p> + “If I were charged with the defence, I should commence to-morrow a + counter-investigation. We have money, the Marquis de Boiscoran has + influential connections; and we should have help everywhere. Before + forty-eight hours are gone, I should have experienced agents at work. I + know Vine Street in Passy: it is a lonely street; but it has eyes, as all + streets have. Why should not some of these eyes have noticed the + mysterious visits of the countess? My agents would inquire from house to + house. Nor would it be necessary to mention names. They would not be + charged with a search after the Countess Claudieuse, but after an unknown + lady, dressed so and so; and, if they should discover any one who had seen + her, and who could identify her, that man would be our first witness. + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime, I should go in search of this friend of M. de + Boiscoran’s, this Englishman, whose name he assumed; and the London police + would aid me in my efforts. If that Englishman is dead, we would hear of + it, and it would be a misfortune. If he is only at the other end of the + world, the transatlantic cable enables us to question him, and to be + answered in a week. + </p> + <p> + “I should, at the same time, have sent detectives after that English + maid-servant who attended to the house in Vine Street. M. de Boiscoran + declares that she has never even caught a glimpse of the countess. I do + not believe it. It is out of question that a servant should not wish for + the means, and find them, of seeing the face of the woman who comes to see + her master. + </p> + <p> + “And that is not all. There were other people who came to the house in + Vine Street. I should examine them one by one,—the gardener and his + help, the water-carrier, the upholsterer, the errand-boys of all the + merchants. Who can say whether one of them is not in possession of this + truth which we are seeking? + </p> + <p> + “Finally, when a woman has spent so many days in a house, it is almost + impossible that she should not have left some traces of her passage behind + her. Since then, you will say, there has been the war, and then the + commune. Nevertheless, I should examine the ruins, every tree in the + garden, every pane in the windows: I should compel the very mirrors that + have escaped destruction to give me back the image which they have so + often reflected.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I call that speaking!” cried the doctor, full of enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + The others trembled with excitement. They felt that the struggle was + commencing. But, unmindful of the impression he had produced, M. Folgat + went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Here in Sauveterre, the task would be more difficult; but, in case of + success, the result, also, would be more decided. I should bring down from + Paris one of those keen, subtle detectives who have made an art of their + profession, and I should know how to stimulate his vanity. He, of course, + would have to know every thing, even the names; but there would be no + danger in that. His desire to succeed, the splendor of the reward, even + his professional habits, would be our security. He would come down + secretly, concealed under whatever disguise would appear to him most + useful for his purpose; and he would begin once more, for the benefit of + the defence, the investigation carried on by M. Galpin for the benefit of + the prosecution. Would he find out any thing? We can but hope so. I know + detectives, who, by the aid of smaller material, have unravelled far + deeper mysteries.” + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore, excellent M. Seneschal, Dr. Seignebos, and even M. + Magloire, were literally drinking in the words of the Paris lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all, gentlemen?” he continued. “By no means! Thanks to his great + experience, Dr. Seignebos had, on the very first day, instinctively + guessed who was the most important personage of this mysterious drama.” + </p> + <p> + “Cocoleu!” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, Cocoleu. Whether he be actor, confident, or eye-witness, Cocoleu + has evidently the key to this mystery. This key we must make every effort + to obtain from him. Medical experts have just declared him idiotic; + nevertheless, we protest. We claim that the imbecility of this wretch is + partly assumed. We maintain that his obstinate silence is a vile + imposture. What! he should have intelligence enough to testify against us, + and yet not have left enough of it now to explain, or even to repeat his + evidence? That is inadmissible. We maintain that he keeps silent now just + as he spoke that night,—by order. If his silence was less profitable + for the prosecution, they would soon find means to break it. We demand + that such means should be employed. We demand that the person who has + before been able to loosen his tongue should be sent for, and ordered to + try the experiment over again. We call for a new examination by experts: + we cannot judge all of a sudden, and in forty-eight hours, what is the + true mental condition of a man, especially when that man is suspected of + being an impostor. And we require, above all, that these new experts + should be qualified by knowledge and experience.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos was quivering with excitement. He heard all his own ideas + repeated in a concise, energetic manner. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he cried, “that is the way to do it! Let me have full power, and in + less than a fortnight Cocoleu is unmasked.” + </p> + <p> + Less expansive, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre simply shook hands with + M. Folgat, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You see, M. de Boiscoran’s case ought to be put in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer made no effort to protest. When he began to speak, his + determination was already formed. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever can humanly be done,” he replied, “I will do. If I accept the + task, I shall devote myself body and soul to it. But I insist upon it, it + is understood, and must be publicly announced, that M. Magloire does not + withdraw from the case, and that I act only as his junior.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed,” said the old advocate. + </p> + <p> + “Well. When shall we go and see M. de Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I can, of course, take no steps till I have seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you cannot be admitted, except by a special permission from M. + Galpin; and I doubt if we can procure that to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “That is provoking.” + </p> + <p> + “No, since we have our work all cut out for to-day. We have to go over all + the papers of the proceedings, which the magistrate has placed in my + hands.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos was boiling over with impatience. He broke in,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what words! Go to work, Mr. Advocate, to work, I say. Come, shall we + go?” + </p> + <p> + They were leaving the room when M. de Chandore called them back by a + gesture. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “So far, gentlemen, we have thought of Jacques alone. And Dionysia?” + </p> + <p> + The others looked at him, full of surprise. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to say if she asks me what the result of M. Magloire’s + interview with Jacques has been, and why you would say nothing in her + presence?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos had confessed it more than once: he was no friend of + concealment. + </p> + <p> + “You will tell her the truth,” was his advice. + </p> + <p> + “What? How can I tell her that Jacques has been the lover of the Countess + Claudieuse?” + </p> + <p> + “She will hear of it sooner or later. Miss Dionysia is a sensible, + energetic girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but Miss Dionysia is as ignorant as a holy angel,” broke in M. + Folgat eagerly, “and she loves M. de Boiscoran. Why should we trouble the + purity of her thoughts and her happiness? Is she not unhappy enough? M. de + Boiscoran is no longer kept in close confinement. He will see his + betrothed, and, if he thinks proper, he can tell her. He alone has the + right to do so. I shall, however, dissuade him. From what I know of Miss + Chandore’s character, it would be impossible for her to control herself, + if she should meet the Countess Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + “M. de Chandore ought not to say any thing,” said M. Magloire decisively. + “It is too much already, to have to intrust the marchioness with the + secret; for you must not forget, gentlemen, that the slightest + indiscretion would certainly ruin all of M. Folgat’s delicate plans.” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon all went out; and M. de Chandore, left alone, said to himself,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they are right; but what am I to say?” + </p> + <p> + He was thinking it over almost painfully, when a maid came in, and told + him that Miss Dionysia wanted to see him. + </p> + <p> + “I am coming,” he said. + </p> + <p> + And he followed her with heavy steps, and trying to compose his features + so as to efface all traces of the terrible emotions through which he had + passed. The two aunts had taken Dionysia and the marchioness to the parlor + in the upper story. Here M. de Chandore found them all assembled,—the + marchioness, pale and overcome, extended in an easy-chair; but Dionysia, + walking up and down with burning cheeks and blazing eyes. As soon as he + entered, she asked him in a sharp, sad voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Well? There is no hope, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “More hope than ever, on the contrary,” he replied, trying to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Then why did M. De Magloire send us all out?” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman had had time to prepare a fib. + </p> + <p> + “Because M. Magloire had to tell us a piece of bad news. There is no + chance of no true bill being found. Jacques will have to appear in court.” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness jumped up like a piece of mechanism, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “What! Jacques before the assizes? My son? A Boiscoran?” And she fell back + into her chair. Not a muscle in Dionysia’s face had moved. She said in a + strange tone of voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I was prepared for something worse. One may avoid the court.” + </p> + <p> + With these words she left the room, shutting the door so violently, that + both the Misses Lavarande hastened after her. Now M. de Chandore thought + he might speak freely. He stood up before the marchioness, and gave vent + to that fearful wrath which had been rising within him for a long time. + </p> + <p> + “Your son,” he cried, “your Jacques, I wish he were dead a thousand times! + The wretch who is killing my child, for you see he is killing her.” + </p> + <p> + And, without pity, he told her the whole story of Jacques and the Countess + Claudieuse. The marchioness was overcome. She had even ceased to sob, and + had not strength enough left to ask him to have pity on her. And, when he + had ended, she whispered to herself with an expression of unspeakable + suffering,— + </p> + <p> + “Adultery! Oh, my God! what punishment!” + </p> + <p> + XVI. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat and M. Magloire went to the courthouse; and, as they descended + the steep street from M. de Chandore’s house, the Paris lawyer said,— + </p> + <p> + “M. Galpin must fancy himself wonderfully safe in his position, that he + should grant the defence permission to see all the papers of the + prosecution.” + </p> + <p> + Ordinarily such leave is given only after the court has begun proceedings + against the accused, and the presiding judge has questioned him. This + looks like crying injustice to the prisoner; and hence arrangements can be + made by which the rigor of the law is somewhat mitigated. With the consent + of the commonwealth attorney, and upon his responsibility, the magistrate + who had carried on the preliminary investigation may inform the accused, + or his counsel, by word of mouth, or by a copy of all or of part, of what + has happened during the first inquiry. That is what M. Galpin had done. + </p> + <p> + And on the part of a man who was ever ready to interpret the law in its + strictest meaning, and who no more dared proceed without authority for + every step than a blind man without his staff,—or on the part of + such a man, an enemy, too, of M. de Boiscoran, this permission granted to + the defence was full of meaning. But did it really mean what M. Folgat + thought it did? + </p> + <p> + “I am almost sure you are mistaken,” said M. Magloire. “I know the good + man, having practiced with him for many years. If he were sure of himself, + he would be pitiless. If he is kind, he is afraid. This concession is a + door which he keeps open, in case of defeat.” + </p> + <p> + The eminent counsel was right. However well convinced M. Galpin might be + of Jacques’s guilt, he was still very much troubled about his means of + defence. Twenty examinations had elicited nothing from his prisoner but + protestations of innocence. When he was driven to the wall, he would + reply,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall explain when I have seen my counsel.” + </p> + <p> + This is often the reply of the most stupid scamp, who only wants to gain + time. But M. Galpin knew his former friend, and had too high an opinion of + his mind, not to fear that there was something serious beneath his + obstinate silence. + </p> + <p> + What was it? A clever falsehood? a cunningly-devised <i>alibi</i>? Or + witnesses bribed long beforehand? + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin would have given much to know. And it was for the purpose of + finding it out sooner, that he had given the permission. Before he granted + it, however, he had conferred with the commonwealth attorney. Excellent M. + Daubigeon, whom he found, as usual, admiring the beautiful gilt edging of + his beloved books, had treated him badly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you come for any more signatures?” he had exclaimed. “You shall have + them. If you want any thing else, your servant. + </p> + <p> + “‘When the blunder is made, It is too late, I tell thee, to come for + advice.’” + </p> + <p> + However discouraging such a welcome might be, M. Galpin did not give up + his purpose. He said in his bitterest tone,— + </p> + <p> + “You still insist that it is a blunder to do one’s duty. Has not a crime + been committed? Is it not my duty to find out the author, and to have him + punished? Well? Is it my fault if the author of this crime is an old + friend of mine, and if I was once upon a time on the point of marrying a + relation of his? There is no one in court who doubts M. de Boiscoran’s + guilt; there is no one who dares blame me: and yet they are all as cold as + ice towards me.” + </p> + <p> + “Such is the world,” said M. Daubigeon with a face full of irony. “They + praise virtue; but they hate it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, yes! that is so,” cried M. Galpin in his turn. “Yes, they blame + people who have done what they had not the courage to do. The attorney + general has congratulated me, because he judges things from on high and + impartially. Here cliques are all-powerful. Even those who ought to + encourage and support me, cry out against me. My natural ally, the + commonwealth attorney, forsakes me and laughs at me. The president of the + court, my immediate superior, said to me this morning with intolerable + irony, ‘I hardly know any magistrate who would be able as you are to + sacrifice his relations and his friends to the interests of truth and + justice. You are one of the ancients: you will rise high.’” + </p> + <p> + His friend could not listen any further. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us break off there: we shall never understand each other. Is Jacques + de Boiscoran innocent, or guilty? I do not know. But I do know that he was + the pleasantest man in the world, an admirable host, a good talker, a + scholar, and that he owned the finest editions of Horace and Juvenal that + I have ever seen. I liked him. I like him still; and it distresses me to + think of him in prison. I know that we had the most pleasant relations + with each other, and that now they are broken off. And you, you complain! + Am I the ambitious man? Do I want to have my name connected with a + world-famous trial? M. de Boiscoran will in all probability be condemned. + You ought to be delighted. And still you complain? Why, one cannot have + everything. Who ever undertook a great enterprise, and never repented of + it?” + </p> + <p> + After that there was nothing left for M. Galpin but to go away. He did go + in a fury, but at the same time determined to profit by the rude truths + which M. Daubigeon had told him; for he knew very well that his friend + represented in his views nearly the whole community. He was fully prepared + to carry out his plan. Immediately after his return, he communicated the + papers of the prosecution to the defence, and directed his clerk to show + himself as obliging as he could. M. Mechinet was not a little surprised at + these orders. He knew his master thoroughly,—this magistrate, whose + shadow he had been now for so many years. + </p> + <p> + “You are afraid, dear sir,” he had said to himself. + </p> + <p> + And as M. Galpin repeated the injunction, adding that the honor of justice + required the utmost courtesy when rigor was not to be employed, the old + clerk replied very gravely,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh! be reassured, sir. I shall not be wanting in courtesy.” + </p> + <p> + But, as soon as the magistrate turned his back, Mechinet laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “He would not recommend me to be obliging,” he thought, “if he suspected + the truth, and knew how far I am devoted to the defence. What a fury he + would be in, if he should ever find out that I have betrayed all the + secrets of the investigation, that I have carried letters to and from the + prisoner, that I have made of Trumence an accomplice, and of Blangin the + jailer an agent, that I have helped Miss Dionysia to visit her betrothed + in jail!” + </p> + <p> + For he had done all this four times more than enough to be dismissed from + his place, and even to become, at least for some months, one of Blangin’s + boarders. He shivered all down his back when he thought of this; and he + had been furiously angry, when, one evening, his sisters, the devout + seamstresses, had taken it into their heads to say to him,— + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Mechinet, you are a different man ever since that visit of + Miss Chandore.” + </p> + <p> + “Abominable talkers!” he had exclaimed, in a tone of voice which + frightened them out of their wits. “Do you want to see me hanged?” + </p> + <p> + But, if he had these attacks of rage, he felt not a moment’s remorse. Miss + Dionysia had completely bewitched him; and he judged M. Galpin’s conduct + as severely as she did. + </p> + <p> + To be sure, M. Galpin had done nothing contrary to law; but he had + violated the spirit of the law. Having once summoned courage to begin + proceedings against his friend, he had not been able to remain impartial. + Afraid of being charged with timidity, he had exaggerated his severity. + And, above all, he had carried on the inquiry solely in the interests of a + conviction, as if the crime had been proved, and the prisoner had not + protested his innocence. + </p> + <p> + Now, Mechinet firmly believed in this innocence; and he was fully + persuaded that the day on which Jacques de Boiscoran saw his counsel would + be the day of his justification. This will show with what eagerness he + went to the court-house to wait for M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + But at noon the great lawyer had not yet come. He was still consulting + with M. de Chandore. + </p> + <p> + “Could any thing amiss have happened?” thought the clerk. + </p> + <p> + And his restlessness was so great, that, instead of going home to + breakfast with his sisters, he sent an office-boy for a roll and a glass + of water. At last, as three o’clock struck, M. Magloire and M. Folgat + arrived; and Mechinet saw at once in their faces, that he had been + mistaken, and that Jacques had not explained. Still, before M. Magloire, + he did not dare inquire. + </p> + <p> + “Here are the papers,” he said simply, putting upon the table an immense + box. + </p> + <p> + Then, drawing M. Folgat aside, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, pray?” + </p> + <p> + The clerk had certainly acted so well, that they could have no secret from + him; and he so was fully committed, that there was no danger in relying + upon his discretion. Still M. Folgat did not dare to mention the name of + the Countess Claudieuse; and he replied evasively,— + </p> + <p> + “This is the matter: M. de Boiscoran explains fully; but he had no proofs + for his statement, and we are busy collecting proofs.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went and sat down by M. Magloire, who was already deep in the + papers. With the help of those documents, it was easy to follow step by + step M. Galpin’s work, to see the efforts he had made, and to comprehend + his strategy. + </p> + <p> + First of all, the two lawyers looked for the papers concerning Cocoleu. + They found none. Of the statement of the idiot on the night of the fire, + of the efforts made since to obtain from him a repetition of this + evidence, of the report of the experts,—of all this there was not a + trace to be found. + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin dropped Cocoleu. He had a right to do so. The prosecution, of + course, only keeps those witnesses which it thinks useful, and drops all + the others. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the scamp is clever!” growled M. Magloire in his disappointment. + </p> + <p> + It was really very well done. M. Galpin deprived by this step the defence + of one of their surest means, of one of those incidents in a trial which + are apt to affect the mind of the jury so powerfully. + </p> + <p> + “We can, however, summon him at any time,” said M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + They might do so, it is true; but what a difference it would make! If + Cocoleu appeared for M. Galpin, he was a witness for the prosecution, and + the defence could exclaim with indignation,— + </p> + <p> + “What! You suspect the prisoner upon the evidence of such a creature?” + </p> + <p> + But, if he had to be summoned by the defence, he became prisoner’s + evidence, that is to say, one of those witnesses whom the jury always + suspect; and then the prosecution would exclaim,— + </p> + <p> + “What do you hope for from a poor idiot, whose mental condition is such, + that we refused his evidence when it might have been most useful to us?” + </p> + <p> + “If we have to go into court,” murmured M. Folgat, “here is certainly a + considerable chance of which we are deprived. The whole character of the + case is changed. But, then, how can M. Galpin prove the guilt?” + </p> + <p> + Oh! in the simplest possible manner. He started from the fact that Count + Claudieuse was able to give the precise hour at which the crime was + committed. Thence he passed on immediately to the deposition of young + Ribot, who had met M. de Boiscoran on his way to Valpinson, crossing the + marshes, before the crime, and to that of Gaudry, who had seen him come + back from Valpinson through the woods, after the crime. Three other + witnesses who had turned up during the investigation confirmed this + evidence; and by these means alone, and by comparing the hours, M. Galpin + succeeded in proving, almost beyond doubt, that the accused had gone to + Valpinson, and nowhere else, and that he had been there at the time the + crime was committed. + </p> + <p> + What was he doing there? + </p> + <p> + To this question the prosecution replied by the evidence taken on the + first day of the inquiry, by the water in which Jacques had washed his + hands, the cartridge-case found near the house, and the identity of the + shot extracted from the count’s wounds with those seized with the gun at + Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + Every thing was plain, precise, and formidable, admitting of no + discussion, no doubt, no suggestion. It looked like a mathematical + deduction. + </p> + <p> + “Whether he be innocent or guilty,” said M. Magloire to his young + colleague, “Jacques is lost, if we cannot get hold of some evidence + against the Countess Claudieuse. And even in that case, even if it should + be established that she is guilty, Jacques will always be looked upon as + her accomplice.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, they spent a part of the night in going over all the papers + carefully, and in studying every point made by the prosecution. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, about nine o’clock, having had only a few hours’ sleep, they + went together to the prison. + </p> + <p> + XVII. + </p> + <p> + The night before, the jailer of Sauveterre had said to his wife, at + supper,— + </p> + <p> + “I am tired of the life I am leading here. They have paid me for my place, + have not they? Well, I mean to go.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool!” his wife had replied. “As long as M. de Boiscoran is a + prisoner there is a chance of profit. You don’t know how rich those + Chandores are. You ought to stay.” + </p> + <p> + Like many other husbands, Blangin fancied he was master in his own house. + </p> + <p> + He remonstrated. He swore to make the ceiling fall down upon him. He + demonstrated by the strength of his arm that he was master. But— + </p> + <p> + But, notwithstanding all this, Mrs. Blangin having decided that he should + stay, he did stay. Sitting in front of his jail, and given up to the most + dismal presentiments, he was smoking his pipe, when M. Magloire and M. + Folgat appeared at the prison, and handed him M. Galpin’s permit. He rose + as they came in. He was afraid of them, not knowing whether they were in + Miss Dionysia’s secret or not. He therefore politely doffed his worsted + cap, took his pipe from his mouth, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You come to see M. de Boiscoran, gentlemen? I will show you in: just + give me time to go for my keys.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire held him back. + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” he said, “how is M. de Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + “Only so-so,” replied the jailer. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is the matter with all prisoners when they see that things are + likely to turn out badly for them?” + </p> + <p> + The two lawyers looked at each other sadly. + </p> + <p> + It was clear that Blangin thought Jacques guilty, and that was a bad omen. + The persons who stand guard over prisoners have generally a very keen + scent; and not unfrequently lawyers consult them, very much as an author + consults the actors of the theatre on which his piece is to appear. + </p> + <p> + “Has he told you any thing?” asked M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “Me personally, nothing,” replied the jailer. + </p> + <p> + And shaking his head, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “But you know we have our experience. When a prisoner has been with his + counsel, I almost always go up to see him, and to offer him something,—a + little trifle to set him up again. So yesterday, after M. Magloire had + been here, I climbed up”— + </p> + <p> + “And you found M. de Boiscoran sick?” + </p> + <p> + “I found him in a pitiful condition, gentlemen. He lay on his stomach on + his bed, his head in the pillow, and stiff as a corpse. I was some time in + his cell before he heard me. I shook my keys, I stamped, I coughed. No + use. I became frightened. I went up to him, and took him by the shoulder. + ‘Eh, sir!’ Great God! he leaped up as if shot and, sitting up, he said, + ‘What to you want?’ Of course, I tried to console him, to explain to him + that he ought to speak out; that it is rather unpleasant to appear in + court, but that people don’t die of it; that they even come out of it as + white as snow, if they have a good advocate. I might just as well have + been singing, ‘O sensible woman.’ The more I said, the fiercer he looked; + and at last he cried, without letting me finish, ‘Get out from here! Leave + me!’” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment to take a whiff at his pipe; but it had gone out: he + put it in his pocket, and went on,— + </p> + <p> + “I might have told him that I had a right to come into the cells whenever + I liked, and to stay there as long as it pleases me. But prisoners are + like children: you must not worry them. But I opened the wicket, and I + remained there, watching him. Ah, gentlemen, I have been here twenty + years, and I have seen many desperate men; but I never saw any despair + like this young man’s. He had jumped up as soon as I turned my back, and + he was walking up and down, sobbing aloud. He looked as pale as death; and + the big tears were running down his cheeks in torrents.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire felt each one of these details like a stab at his heart. His + opinion had not materially changed since the day before; but he had had + time to reflect, and to reproach himself for his harshness. + </p> + <p> + “I was at my post for an hour at least,” continued the jailer, “when all + of a sudden M. de Boiscoran throws himself upon the door, and begins to + knock at it with his feet, and to call as loud as he can. I keep him + waiting a little while, so he should not know I was so near by, and then I + open, pretending to have hurried up ever so fast. As soon as I show myself + he says, ‘I have the right to receive visitors, have I not? And nobody has + been to see me?’—‘No one.’—‘Are you sure?’—‘Quite sure.’ + I thought I had killed him. He put his hands to his forehead this way; and + then he said, ‘No one!—no mother, no betrothed, no friend! Well, it + is all over. I am no longer in existence. I am forgotten, abandoned, + disowned.’ He said this in a voice that would have drawn tears from + stones; and I, I suggested to him to write a letter, which I would send to + M. de Chandore. But he became furious at once, and cried, ‘No, never! + Leave me. There is nothing left for me but death.’” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat had not uttered a word; but his pallor betrayed his emotions. + </p> + <p> + “You will understand, gentlemen,” Blangin went on, “that I did not feel + quite reassured. It is a bad cell that in which M. de Boiscoran is + staying. Since I have been at Sauveterre, one man has killed himself in + it, and one man has tried to commit suicide. So I called Trumence, a poor + vagrant who assists me in the jail; and we arranged it that one of us + would always be on guard, never losing the prisoner out of sight for a + moment. But it was a useless precaution. At night, when they carried M. de + Boiscoran his supper, he was perfectly calm; and he even said he would try + to eat something to keep his strength. Poor man! If he has no other + strength than what his meal would give him, he won’t go far. He had not + swallowed four mouthfuls, when he was almost smothered; and Trumence and I + at one time thought he would die on our hands: I almost thought it might + be fortunate. However, about nine o’clock he was a little better; and he + remained all night long at his window.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire could stand it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go up,” he said to his colleague. + </p> + <p> + They went up. But, as they entered the passage, they noticed Trumence, who + was making signs to them to step lightly. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” they asked in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “I believe he is asleep,” replied the prisoner. “Poor man! Who knows but + he dreams he is free, and in his beautiful chateau?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat went on tiptoe to the wicket. But Jacques had waked up. He had + heard steps and voices, and he had just risen. Blangin, therefore, opened + the door; and at once M. Magloire said the prisoner,— + </p> + <p> + “I bring you reenforcements,—M. Folgat, my colleague, who has come + down from Paris, with your mother.” + </p> + <p> + Coolly, and without saying a word, M. de Boiscoran bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I see you are angry with me,” continued M. Magloire. “I was too quick + yesterday, much too quick.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques shook his head, and said in an icy tone,— + </p> + <p> + “I was angry; but I have reflected since, and now I thank you for your + candor. At least, I know my fate. Innocent though I be, if I go into + court, I shall be condemned as an incendiary and a murderer. I shall + prefer not going into court at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man! But all hope is not lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Who would believe me, if you, my friend, cannot believe me?” + </p> + <p> + “I would,” said M. Folgat promptly, “I, who, without knowing you, from the + beginning believed in your innocence,—I who, now that I have seen + you, adhere to my conviction.” + </p> + <p> + Quicker than thought, M. de Boiscoran had seized the young advocate’s + hand, and, pressing it convulsively, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, oh, thanks for that word alone! I bless you, sir, for the faith + you have in me!” + </p> + <p> + This was the first time that the unfortunate man, since his arrest, felt a + ray of hope. Alas! it passed in a second. His eye became dim again; his + brow clouded over; and he said in a hoarse voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, nothing can be done for me now. No doubt M. Magloire has + told you my sad history and my statement. I have no proof; or at least, to + furnish proof, I would have to enter into details which the court would + refuse to admit; or if by a miracle they were admitted, I should be ruined + forever by them. They are confidences which cannot be spoken of, secrets + which are never betrayed, veils which must not be lifted. It is better to + be condemned innocent than to be acquitted infamous and dishonored. + Gentlemen, I decline being defended.” + </p> + <p> + What was his desperate purpose that he should have come to such a + decision? + </p> + <p> + His counsel trembled as they thought they guessed it. + </p> + <p> + “You have no right,” said M. Folgat, “to give yourself up thus.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are not alone in your trouble, sir. Because you have + relations, friends, and”— + </p> + <p> + A bitter, ironical smile appeared on the lips of Jacques de Boiscoran as + he broke in,— + </p> + <p> + “What do I owe to them, if they have not even the courage to wait for the + sentence to be pronounced before they condemn me? Their merciless verdict + has actually anticipated that of the jury. It was to an unknown person, to + you, M. Folgat, that I had to be indebted for the first expression of + sympathy.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is not so,” exclaimed M. Magloire, “you know very well.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques did not seem to hear him. He went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Friends? Oh, yes! I had friends in my days of prosperity. There was M. + Galpin and M. Daubigeon: they were my friends. One has become my judge, + the most cruel and pitiless of judges; and the other, who is commonwealth + attorney, has not even made an effort to come to my assistance. M. + Magloire also used to be a friend of mine, and told me a hundred times, + that I could count upon him as I count upon myself, and that was my reason + to choose him as my counsel; and, when I endeavored to convince him of my + innocence, he told me I lied.” + </p> + <p> + Once more the eminent advocate of Sauveterre tried to protest; but it was + in vain. + </p> + <p> + “Relations!” continued Jacques with a voice trembling with indignation—“oh, + yes! I have relations, a father and a mother. Where are they when their + son, victimized by unheard-of fatality, is struggling in the meshes of a + most odious and infamous plot? + </p> + <p> + “My father stays quietly in Paris, devoted to his pursuits and usual + pleasures. My mother has come down to Sauveterre. She is here now; and she + has been told that I am at liberty to receive visitors: but in vain. I was + hoping for her yesterday; but the wretch who is accused of a crime is no + longer her son! She never came. No one came. Henceforth I stand alone in + the world; and now you see why I have a right to dispose of myself.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat did not think for a moment of discussing the point. It would + have been useless. Despair never reasons. He only said,— + </p> + <p> + “You forget Miss Chandore, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques turned crimson all over, and he murmured, trembling in all his + limbs,— + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dionysia,” said the young advocate. “You forget her courage, her + devotion, and all she has done for you. Can you say that she abandons and + denies you,—she who set aside all her reserve and her timidity for + your sake, and came and spent a whole night in this prison? She was + risking nothing less than her maidenly honor; for she might have been + discovered or betrayed. She knew that very well, nevertheless she did not + hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you are cruel, sir,” broke in Jacques. + </p> + <p> + And pressing the lawyer’s arm hard, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “And do you not understand that her memory kills me, and that my misery is + all the greater as I know but too well what bliss I am losing? Do you not + see that I love Dionysia as woman never was loved before? Ah, if my life + alone was at stake! I, at least, I have to make amends for a great wrong; + but she—Great God, why did I ever come across her path?” + </p> + <p> + He remained for a moment buried in thought; then he added,— + </p> + <p> + “And yet she, also, did not come yesterday. Why? Oh! no doubt they have + told her all. They have told her how I came to be at Valpinson the night + of the crime.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Jacques,” said M. Magloire. “Miss Chandore knows + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Magloire did not speak in her presence,” added M. Folgat; “and we have + bound over M. de Chandore to secrecy. I insisted upon it that you alone + had the right to tell the truth to Miss Dionysia.” + </p> + <p> + “Then how does she explain it to herself that I am not set free?” + </p> + <p> + “She cannot explain it.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God! she does not also think I am guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “If you were to tell her so yourself, she would not believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “And still she never came here yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “She could not. Although they told her nothing, your mother had to be + told. The marchioness was literally thunderstruck. She remained for more + than an hour unconscious in Miss Dionysia’s arms. When she recovered her + consciousness, her first words were for you; but it was then too late to + be admitted here.” + </p> + <p> + When M. Folgat mentioned Miss Dionysia’s name, he had found the surest, + and perhaps the only means to break Jacques’s purpose. + </p> + <p> + “How can I ever sufficiently thank you, sir?” asked the latter. + </p> + <p> + “By promising me that you will forever abandon that fatal resolve which + you had formed,” replied the young advocate. “If you were guilty, I should + be the first to say, ‘Be it so!’ and I would furnish you with the means. + Suicide would be an expiation. But, as you are innocent, you have no right + to kill yourself: suicide would be a confession.” + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Defend yourself. Fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Without hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, even without hope. When you faced the Prussians, did you ever think + of blowing out your brains? No! and yet you knew that they were superior + in numbers, and would conquer, in all probability. Well, you are once more + in face of the enemy; and even if you were certain of being conquered, + that is to say, of being condemned, and it was the day before you should + have to mount the scaffold, I should still say, ‘Fight. You must live on; + for up to that hour something may happen which will enable us to discover + the guilty one.’ And, if no such event should happen, I should repeat, + nevertheless, ‘You must wait for the executioner in order to protest from + the scaffold against the judicial murder, and once more to affirm your + innocence.’” + </p> + <p> + As M. Folgat uttered these words, Jacques had gradually recovered his + bearing; and now he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honor, sir, I promise you I will hold out to the bitter end.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” said M. Magloire,—“very well!” + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” replied M. Folgat, “I mean to recommence, for our benefit + the investigation which M. Galpin has left incomplete. To-night your + mother and I will leave for Paris. I have come to ask you for the + necessary information, and for the means to explore your house in Vine + Street, to discover the friend whose name you assumed, and the servant who + waited upon you.” + </p> + <p> + The bolts were drawn as he said this; and at the open wicket appeared + Blangin’s rubicund face. + </p> + <p> + “The Marchioness de Boiscoran,” he said, “is in the parlor, and begs you + will come down as soon as you have done with these gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques turned very pale. + </p> + <p> + “My mother,” he murmured. Then he added, speaking to the jailer,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not go yet. We have nearly done.” + </p> + <p> + His agitation was too great: he could not master it. He said to the two + lawyers,— + </p> + <p> + “We must stop here for to-day. I cannot think now.” + </p> + <p> + But M. Folgat had declared he would leave for Paris that very night; and + he was determined to do so. He said, therefore,— + </p> + <p> + “Our success depends on the rapidity of our movements. I beg you will let + me insist upon your giving me at once the few items of information which I + need for my purposes.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques shook his head sadly. He began,— + </p> + <p> + “The task is out of your power, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, do what my colleague asks you,” urged M. Magloire. Without + any further opposition, and, who knows? Perhaps with a secret hope which + he would not confess to himself, Jacques informed the young advocate of + the most minute details about his relations to the Countess Claudieuse. He + told him at what hour she used to come to the house, what roads she took, + and how she was most commonly dressed. The keys of the house were at + Boiscoran, in a drawer which Jacques described. He had only to ask Anthony + for them. Then he mentioned how they might find out what had become of + that Englishman whose name he had borrowed. Sir Francis Burnett had a + brother in London. Jacques did not know his precise address; but he knew + he had important business-relations with India, and had, once upon a time, + been cashier in the great house of Gilmour and Benson. + </p> + <p> + As to the English servant-girl who had for three years attended to his + house in Vine Street, Jacques had taken her blindly, upon the + recommendation of an agency in the suburbs; and he had had nothing to do + with her, except to pay her her wages, and, occasionally, some little + gratuity besides. All he could say, and even that he had learned by mere + chance, was, that the girl’s name was Suky Wood; that she was a native of + Folkstone, where her parents kept a sailor’s tavern; and that, before + coming to France, she had been a chambermaid at the Adelphi in Liverpool. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat took careful notes of all he could learn. Then he said,— + </p> + <p> + “This is more than enough to begin the campaign. Now you must give me the + name and address of your tradesmen in Passy.” + </p> + <p> + “You will find a list in a small pocket-book which is in the same drawer + with the keys. In the same drawer are also all the deeds and other papers + concerning the house. Finally, you might take Anthony with you: he is + devoted to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall certainly take him, if you permit me,” replied the lawyer. Then + putting up his notes, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall not be absent more than three or four days; and, as soon as I + return, we will draw up our plan of defence. Till then, my dear client, + keep up your courage.” + </p> + <p> + They called Blangin to open the door for them; and, after having shaken + hands with Jacques de Boiscoran, M. Folgat and M. Magloire went away. + </p> + <p> + “Well, are we going down now?” asked the jailer. + </p> + <p> + But Jacques made no reply. + </p> + <p> + He had most ardently hoped for his mother’s visit; and now, when he was + about to see her, he felt assailed by all kinds of vague and sombre + apprehensions. The last time he had kissed her was in Paris, in the + beautiful parlor of their family mansion. He had left her, his heart + swelling with hopes and joy, to go to his Dionysia; and his mother, he + remembered distinctly, had said to him, “I shall not see you again till + the day before the wedding.” + </p> + <p> + And now she was to see him again, in the parlor of a jail, accused of an + abominable crime. And perhaps she was doubtful of his innocence. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, the marchioness is waiting for you,” said the jailer once more. At + the man’s voice, Jacques trembled. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready,” he replied: “let us go!” And, while descending the stairs, + he tried his best to compose his features, and to arm himself with courage + and calmness. + </p> + <p> + “For,” he said, “She must not become aware of it, how horrible my position + is.” + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the steps, Blangin pointed at a door, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “That is the parlor. When the marchioness wants to go, please call me.” + </p> + <p> + On the threshold, Jacques paused once more. + </p> + <p> + The parlor of the jail at Sauveterre is an immense vaulted hall, lighted + up by two narrow windows with close, heavy iron gratings. There is no + furniture save a coarse bench fastened to the damp, untidy wall; and on + this bench, in the full light of the sun, sat, or rather lay, apparently + bereft of all strength, the Marchioness of Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + When Jacques saw her, he could hardly suppress a cry of horror and grief. + Was that really his mother,—that thin old lady with the sallow + complexion, the red eyes, and trembling hands? + </p> + <p> + “O God, O God!” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + She heard him, for she raised her head; and, when she recognized him, she + wanted to rise; but her strength forsook her, and she sank back upon the + bench, crying,— + </p> + <p> + “O Jacques, my child!” + </p> + <p> + She, also, was terrified when she saw what two months of anguish and + sleeplessness had done for Jacques. But he was kneeling at her feet upon + the muddy pavement, and said in a barely intelligible voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Can you pardon me the great grief I cause you?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a moment with a bewildered air; and then, all of a + sudden, she took his head in her two hands, kissed him with passionate + vehemence, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Will I pardon you? Alas, what have I to pardon? If you were guilty, I + should love you still; and you are innocent.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques breathed more freely. In his mother’s voice he felt that she, at + least, was sure of him. + </p> + <p> + “And father?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + There was a faint blush on the pale cheeks of the marchioness. + </p> + <p> + “I shall see him to-morrow,” she replied; “for I leave to-night with M. + Folgat.” + </p> + <p> + “What! In this state of weakness?” + </p> + <p> + “I must.” + </p> + <p> + “Could not father leave his collections for a few days? Why did he not + come down? Does he think I am guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it is just because he is so sure of your innocence, that he remains + in Paris. He does not believe you in danger. He insists upon it that + justice cannot err.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” said Jacques with a forced smile. + </p> + <p> + Then changing his tone,— + </p> + <p> + “And Dionysia? Why did she not come with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I would not have it. She knows nothing. It has been agreed upon + that the name of the Countess Claudieuse is not to be mentioned in her + presence; and I wanted to speak to you about that abominable woman. + Jacques, my poor child, where has that unlucky passion brought you!” + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Did you love her?” asked the marchioness. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I did.” + </p> + <p> + “And she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she! God alone knows the secret of that strange heart.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to hope from her, then, no pity, no remorse?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. I have given her up. She has had her revenge. She had forewarned + me.” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” she said. “Last Sunday, when I knew as yet of nothing, I + happened to be close to her at church, and unconsciously admired her + profound devotion, the purity of her eye, and the nobility of her manner. + Yesterday, when I heard the truth, I shuddered. I felt how formidable a + woman must be who can affect such calmness at a time when her lover lies + in prison accused of the crime which she has committed.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing in the world would trouble her, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Still she ought to tremble; for she must know that you have told us every + thing. How can we unmask her?” + </p> + <p> + But time was passing; and Blangin came to tell the marchioness that she + had to withdraw. She went, after having kissed her son once more. + </p> + <p> + That same evening, according to their arrangement, she left for Paris, + accompanied by M. Folgat and old Anthony. + </p> + <p> + XVIII. + </p> + <p> + At Sauveterre, everybody, M. de Chandore as much as Jacques himself, + blamed the Marquis de Boiscoran. He persisted in remaining in Paris, it is + true: but it was certainly not from indifference; for he was dying with + anxiety. He had shut himself up, and refused to see even his oldest + friends, even his beloved dealers in curiosities. He never went out; the + dust accumulated on his collections; and nothing could arouse him from + this state of prostration, except a letter from Sauveterre. + </p> + <p> + Every morning he received three or four,—from the marchioness or M. + Folgat, from M. Seneschal or M. Magloire, from M. de Chandore, Dionysia, + or even from Dr. Seignebos. Thus he could follow at a distance all the + phases, and even the smallest changes, in the proceedings. Only one thing + he would not do: he would not come down, however important his coming + might be for his son. He did not move. + </p> + <p> + Once only he had received, through Dionysia’s agency, a letter from + Jacques himself; and then he ordered his servant to get ready his trunks + for the same evening. But at the last moment he had given counter-orders, + saying that he had reconsidered, and would not go. + </p> + <p> + “There is something extraordinary going on in the mind of the marquis,” + said the servants to each other. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, he spent his days, and a part of his nights, in his cabinet, + half-buried in an arm-chair, resting little, and sleeping still less, + insensible to all that went on around him. On his table he had arranged + all his letters from Sauveterre in order; and he read and re-read them + incessantly, examining the phrases, and trying, ever in vain, to disengage + the truth from this mass of details and statements. He was no longer as + sure of his son as at first: far from it! Every day had brought him a new + doubt; every letter, additional uncertainty. Hence he was all the time a + prey to most harassing apprehensions. He put them aside; but they + returned, stronger and more irresistible than before like the waves of the + rising tide. + </p> + <p> + He was thus one morning in his cabinet. It was very early yet; but he was + more than ever suffering from anxiety, for M. Folgat had written, + “To-morrow all uncertainty will end. To-morrow the close confinement will + be raised, and M. Jacques will see M. Magloire, the counsel whom he has + chosen. We will write immediately.” + </p> + <p> + It was for this news the marquis was waiting now. Twice already he had + rung to inquire if the mail had not come yet, when all of a sudden his + valet appeared and with a frightened air said,— + </p> + <p> + “The marchioness. She has just come with Anthony, M. Jacques’s own man.” + </p> + <p> + He hardly said so, when the marchioness herself entered, looking even + worse than she had done in the prison parlor; for she was overcome by the + fatigue of a night spent on the road. + </p> + <p> + The marquis had started up suddenly. As soon as the servant had left the + room, and shut the door again, he said with trembling voice, as if wishing + for an answer, and still fearing to hear it,— + </p> + <p> + “Has any thing unusual happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Good or bad?” + </p> + <p> + “Sad.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God! Jacques has not confessed?” + </p> + <p> + “How could he confess when he is innocent?” + </p> + <p> + “Then he has explained?” + </p> + <p> + “As far as I am concerned, and M. Folgat, Dr. Seignebos, and all who know + him and love him, yes, but not for the public, for his enemies, or the + law. He has explained every thing; but he has no proof.” + </p> + <p> + The mournful features of the marquis settled into still deeper gloom. + </p> + <p> + “In other words, he has to be believed on his own word?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you believe him?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not the judge of that, but the jury.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for the jury he will find proof. M. Folgat, who has come in the + same train with me, and whom you will see to-day, hopes to discover + proof.” + </p> + <p> + “Proof of what?” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the marchioness was not unprepared for such a reception. She + expected it, and still she was disconcerted. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques,” she began, “has been the lover of the Countess Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ah!” broke in the marquis. + </p> + <p> + And, in a tone of offensive irony, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “No doubt another story of adultery; eh?” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness did not answer. She quietly went on,— + </p> + <p> + “When the countess heard of Jacques’s marriage, and that he abandoned her, + she became exasperated, and determined to be avenged.” + </p> + <p> + “And, in order to be avenged, she attempted to murder her husband; eh?” + </p> + <p> + “She wished to be free.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis de Boiscoran interrupted his wife with a formidable oath. Then + he cried,— + </p> + <p> + “And that is all Jacques could invent! And to come to such an abortive + story—was that the reason of his obstinate silence?” + </p> + <p> + “You do not let me finish. Our son is the victim of unparalleled + coincidences.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! Unparalleled coincidences! That is what every one of the + thousand or two thousand rascals say who are sentenced every year. Do you + think they confess? Not they! Ask them, and they will prove to you that + they are the victims of fate, of some dark plot, and, finally, of an error + of judgment. As if justice could err in these days of ours, after all + these preliminary examinations, long inquiries, and careful + investigations.” + </p> + <p> + “You will see M. Folgat. He will tell you what hope there is.” + </p> + <p> + “And if all hope fails?” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness hung her head. + </p> + <p> + “All would not be lost yet. But then we should have to endure the pain of + seeing our son brought up in court.” + </p> + <p> + The tall figure of the old gentleman had once more risen to its full + height; his face grew red; and the most appalling wrath flashed from his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Jacques brought up in court?” he cried, with a formidable voice. “And you + come and tell me that coolly, as if it were a very simple and quite + natural matter! And what will happen then, if he is in court? He will be + condemned; and a Boiscoran will go to the galleys. But no, that cannot be! + I do not say that a Boiscoran may not commit a crime, passion makes us do + strange things; but a Boiscoran, when he regains his senses, knows what + becomes him to do. Blood washes out all stains. Jacques prefers the + executioner; he waits; he is cunning; he means to plead. If he but save + his head, he is quite content. A few years at hard labor, I suppose, will + be a trifle to him. And that coward should be a Boiscoran: my blood should + flow in his veins! Come, come, madam, Jacques is no son of mine.” + </p> + <p> + Crushed as the marchioness had seemed to be till now, she rose under this + atrocious insult. + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + But M. de Boiscoran was not in a state to listen to her. + </p> + <p> + “I know what I am saying,” he went on. “I remember every thing, if you + have forgotten every thing. Come, let us go back to your past. Remember + the time when Jacques was born, and tell me what year it was when M. de + Margeril refused to meet me.” + </p> + <p> + Indignation restored to the marchioness her strength. She cried,— + </p> + <p> + “And you come and tell me this to-day, after thirty years, and God knows + under what circumstances!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, after thirty years. Eternity might pass over these recollections, + and it would not efface them. And, but for these circumstances to which + you refer, I should never have said any thing. At the time to which I + allude, I had to choose between two evils,—either to be ridiculous, + or to be hated. I preferred to keep silence, and not to inquire too far. + My happiness was gone; but I wished to save my peace. We have lived + together on excellent terms; but there has always been between us this + high wall, this suspicion. As long as I was doubtful, I kept silent. But + now, when the facts confirm my doubts, I say again, ‘Jacques is no son of + mine!’” + </p> + <p> + Overcome with grief, shame, and indignation, the Marchioness de Boiscoran + was wringing her hands; then she cried,— + </p> + <p> + “What a humiliation! What you are saying is too horrible. It is unworthy + of you to add this terrible suffering to the martyrdom which I am + enduring.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran laughed convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Have I brought about this catastrophe?” + </p> + <p> + “Well then yes! One day I was imprudent and indiscreet. I was young; I + knew nothing of life; the world worshipped me; and you, my husband, my + guide, gave yourself up to your ambition, and left me to myself. I could + not foresee the consequences of a very inoffensive piece of coquetry.” + </p> + <p> + “You see, then, now these consequences. After thirty years, I disown the + child that bears my name; and I say, that, if he is innocent, he suffers + for his mother’s sins. Fate would have it that your son should covet his + neighbor’s wife, and, having taken her, it is but justice that he should + die the death of the adulterer.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know very well that I have never forgotten my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “You have acknowledged it, because you refused to hear the explanation + which would have justified me.” + </p> + <p> + “True, I did shrink from an explanation, which, with your unbearable + pride, would necessarily have led to a rupture, and thus to a fearful + scandal.” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness might have told her husband, that, by refusing to hear her + explanation, he had forfeited all right to utter a reproach; but she felt + it would be useless, and thus he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “All I do know is, that there is somewhere in this world a man whom I + wanted to kill. Gossiping people betrayed his name to me. I went to him, + and told him that I demanded satisfaction, and that I hoped he would + conceal the real reason for our encounter even from our seconds. He + refused to give me satisfaction, on the ground that he did not owe me any, + that you had been calumniated, and that he would meet me only if I should + insult him publicly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “What could I do after that? Investigate the matter? You had no doubt + taken your precautions, and it would have amounted to nothing. Watch you? + I should only have demeaned myself uselessly; for you were no doubt on + your guard. Should I ask for a divorce? The law afforded me that remedy. I + might have dragged you into court, held you up to the sarcasms of my + counsel, and exposed you to the jests of your own. I had a right to humble + you, to dishonor my name, to proclaim your disgrace, to publish it in the + newspapers. Ah, I would have died rather!” + </p> + <p> + The marchioness seemed to be puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “That was the explanation of your conduct?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was my reason for giving up public life, ambitious as I was. + That was the reason why I withdrew from the world; for I thought everybody + smiled as I passed. That is why I gave up to you the management of our + house and the education of your son, why I became a passionate collector, + a half-mad original. And you find out only to-day that you have ruined my + life?” + </p> + <p> + There was more compassion than resentment in the manner in which the + marchioness looked at her husband. + </p> + <p> + “You had mentioned to me your unjust suspicions,” she replied; “but I felt + strong in my innocence, and I was in hope that time and my conduct would + efface them.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith once lost never comes back again.” + </p> + <p> + “The fearful idea that you could doubt of your paternity had never even + occurred to me.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Still it was so,” he replied. “I have suffered terribly. I loved Jacques. + Yes, in spite of all, in spite of myself, I loved him. Had he not all the + qualities which are the pride and the joy of a family? Was he not generous + and noble-hearted, open to all lofty sentiments, affectionate, and always + anxious to please me? I never had to complain of him. And even lately, + during this abominable war, has he not again shown his courage, and + valiantly earned the cross which they gave him? At all times, and from all + sides, I have been congratulated on his account. They praised his talents + and his assiduity. Alas! at the very moment when they told me what a happy + father I was, I was the most wretched of men. How many times would I have + drawn him to my heart! But immediately that terrible doubt rose within me, + if he should not be my son; and I pushed him back, and looked in his + features for a trace of another man’s features.” + </p> + <p> + His wrath had cooled down, perhaps by its very excess. + </p> + <p> + He felt a certain tenderness in his heart, and sinking into his chair, and + hiding his face in his hands, he murmured,— + </p> + <p> + “If he should be my son, however; if he should be innocent! Ah, this doubt + is intolerable! And I who would not move from here,—I who have done + nothing for him,—I might have done every thing at first. It would + have been easy for me to obtain a change of venue to free him from this + Galpin, formerly his friend, and now his enemy.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran was right when he said that his wife’s pride was + unmanageable. And still, as cruelly wounded as woman well could be, she + now suppressed her pride, and, thinking only of her son, remained quite + humble. Drawing from her bosom the letter which Jacques had sent to her + the day before she left Sauveterre, she handed it to her husband, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Will you read what our son says?” + </p> + <p> + The marquis’s hand trembled as he took the letter; and, when he had torn + it open, he read,— + </p> + <p> + “Do you forsake me too, father, when everybody forsakes me? And yet I have + never needed your love as much as now. The peril is imminent. Every thing + is against me. Never has such a combination of fatal circumstances been + seen before. I may not be able to prove my innocence; but you,—you + surely cannot think your son guilty of such an absurd and heinous crime! + Oh, no! surely not. My mind is made up. I shall fight to the bitter end. + To my last breath I shall defend, not my life, but my honor. Ah, if you + but knew! But there are things which cannot be written, and which only a + father can be told. I beseech you come to me, let me see you, let me hold + your hand in mine. Do not refuse this last and greatest comfort to your + unhappy son.” + </p> + <p> + The marquis had started up. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, very unhappy indeed!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + And, bowing to his wife, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I interrupted you. Now, pray tell me all.” + </p> + <p> + Maternal love conquered womanly resentment. Without a shadow of + hesitation, and as if nothing had taken place, the marchioness gave her + husband the whole of Jacques’s statement as he had made it to M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + The marquis seemed to be amazed. + </p> + <p> + “That is unheard of!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And, when his wife had finished, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “That was the reason why Jacques was so very angry when you spoke of + inviting the Countess Claudieuse, and why he told you, that, if he saw her + enter at one door, he would walk out of the other. We did not understand + his aversion.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! it was not aversion. Jacques only obeyed at that time the cunning + lessons given him by the countess.” + </p> + <p> + In less than one minute the most contradictory resolutions seemed to flit + across the marquis’s face. He hesitated, and at last he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Whatever can be done to make up for my inaction, I will do. I will go to + Sauveterre. Jacques must be saved. M. de Margeril is all-powerful. Go to + him. I permit it. I beg you will do it.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the marchioness filled with tears, hot tears, the first she + had shed since the beginning of this scene. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not see,” she asked, “that what you wish me to do is now + impossible? Every thing, yes, every thing in the world but that. But + Jacques and I—we are innocent. God will have pity on us. M. Folgat + will save us.” + </p> + <p> + XIX. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was already at work. He had confidence in his cause, a firm + conviction of the innocence of his client, a desire to solve the mystery, + a love of battle, and an intense thirst for success: all these motives + combined to stimulate the talents of the young advocate, and to increase + his activity. + </p> + <p> + And, above all this, there was a mysterious and indefinable sentiment with + which Dionysia had inspired him; for he had succumbed to her charms, like + everybody else. It was not love, for he who says love says hope; and he + knew perfectly well that altogether and forever Dionysia belonged to + Jacques. It was a sweet and all-powerful sentiment, which made him wish to + devote himself to her, and to count for something in her life and in her + happiness. + </p> + <p> + It was for her sake that he had sacrificed all his business, and forgotten + his clients, in order to stay at Sauveterre. It was for her sake, above + all, that he wished to save Jacques. + </p> + <p> + He had no sooner arrived at the station, and left the Marchioness de + Boiscoran in old Anthony’s care, than he jumped into a cab, and had + himself driven to his house. He had sent a telegram the day before; and + his servant was waiting for him. In less than no time he had changed his + clothes. Immediately he went back to his carriage, and went in search of + the man, who, he thought, was most likely to be able to fathom this + mystery. + </p> + <p> + This was a certain Goudar, who was connected with the police department in + some capacity or other, and at all events received an income large enough + to make him very comfortable. He was one of those agents for every thing + whom the police keep employed for specially delicate operations, which + require both tact and keen scent, an intrepidity beyond all doubt, and + imperturbable self-possession. M. Folgat had had opportunities of knowing + and appreciating him in the famous case of the Mutual Discount Society. + </p> + <p> + He was instructed to track the cashier who had fled, having a deficit of + several millions. Goudar had caught him in Canada, after pursuing him for + three months all over America; but, on the day of his arrest, this cashier + had in his pocket-book and his trunk only some forty thousand francs. + </p> + <p> + What had become of the millions? + </p> + <p> + When he was questioned, he said he had spent them. He had gambled in + stocks, he had become unfortunate, etc. + </p> + <p> + Everybody believed him except Goudar. + </p> + <p> + Stimulated by the promise of a magnificent reward, he began his campaign + once more; and, in less than six weeks, he had gotten hold of sixteen + hundred thousand francs which the cashier had deposited in London with a + woman of bad character. + </p> + <p> + The story is well known; but what is not known is the genius, the + fertility of resources, and the ingenuity of expedients, which Goudar + displayed in obtaining such a success. M. Folgat, however, was fully aware + of it; for he had been the counsel of the stockholders of the Mutual + Discount Society; and he had vowed, that, if ever the opportunity should + come, he would employ this marvellously able man. + </p> + <p> + Goudar, who was married, and had a child, lived out of the world on the + road to Versailles, not far from the fortifications. He occupied with his + family a small house which he owned,—a veritable philosopher’s home, + with a little garden in front, and a vast garden behind, in which he + raised vegetables and admirable fruit, and where he kept all kinds of + animals. + </p> + <p> + When M. Folgat stepped out of his carriage before this pleasant home, a + young woman of twenty-five or twenty-six, of surpassing beauty, young and + fresh, was playing in the front garden with a little girl of three or four + years, all milk and roses. + </p> + <p> + “M. Goudar, madam?” asked M. Folgat, raising his hat. + </p> + <p> + The young woman blushed slightly, and answered modestly, but without + embarrassment, and in a most pleasing voice,— + </p> + <p> + “My husband is in the garden; and you will find him, if you will walk down + this path around the house.” + </p> + <p> + The young man followed the direction, and soon saw his man at a distance. + His head covered with an old straw hat, without a coat, and in slippers, + with a huge blue apron such as gardeners wear, Goudar had climbed up a + ladder, and was busy dropping into a horsehair bag the magnificent + Chasselas grapes of his trellises. When he heard the sand grate under the + footsteps of the newcomer, he turned his head, and at once said,— + </p> + <p> + “Why, M. Folgat? Good morning, sir!” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate was not a little surprised to see himself recognized so + instantaneously. He should certainly never have recognized the detective. + It was more than three years since they had seen each other; and how often + had they seen each other then? Twice, and not an hour each time. + </p> + <p> + It is true that Goudar was one of those men whom nobody remembers. Of + middle height, he was neither stout nor thin, neither dark nor light + haired, neither young nor old. A clerk in a passport office would + certainly have written him down thus: Forehead, ordinary; nose, ordinary; + mouth, ordinary, eyes, neutral color; special marks, none. + </p> + <p> + It could not be said that he looked stupid; but neither did he look + intelligent. Every thing in him was ordinary, indifferent, and undecided. + Not one marked feature. He would necessarily pass unobserved, and be + forgotten as soon as he had passed. + </p> + <p> + “You find me busy securing my crops for the winter,” he said to M. Folgat. + “A pleasant job. However, I am at your service. Let me put these three + bunches into their three bags, and I’ll come down.” + </p> + <p> + This was the work of an instant; and, as soon as he had reached the + ground, he turned round, and asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what do you think of my garden?” + </p> + <p> + And at once he begged M. Folgat to visit his domain, and, with all the + enthusiasm of the land-owner, he praised the flavor of his duchess pears, + the bright colors of his dahlias, the new arrangements in his + poultry-yard, which was full of rabbit-houses, and the beauty of his pond, + with its ducks of all colors and all possible varieties. + </p> + <p> + In his heart, M. Folgat swore at this enthusiasm. What time he was losing! + But, when you expect a service from a man, you must, at least, flatter his + weak side. He did not spare praise, therefore. He even pulled out his + cigar-case, and, still with a view to win the great man’s good graces, he + offered it to him, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Can I offer you one?” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks! I never smoke,” replied Goudar. + </p> + <p> + And, when he saw the astonishment of the advocate, he explained,— + </p> + <p> + “At least not at home. I am disposed to think the odor is unpleasant to my + wife.” + </p> + <p> + Positively, if M. Folgat had not known the man, he would have taken him + for some good and simple retired grocer, inoffensive, and any thing but + bright, and, bowing to him politely, he would have taken his leave. But he + had seen him at work; and so he followed him obediently to his greenhouse, + his melon-house, and his marvellous asparagus-beds. + </p> + <p> + At last Goudar took his guest to the end of the garden, to a bower in + which were some chairs and a table, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Now let us sit down, and tell me your business; for I know you did not + come solely for the pleasure of seeing my domain.” + </p> + <p> + Goudar was one of those men who have heard in their lives more confessions + than ten priests, ten lawyers, and ten doctors all together. You could + tell him every thing. Without a moment’s hesitation, therefore, and + without a break, M. Folgat told him the whole story of Jacques and the + Countess Claudieuse. He listened, without saying a word, without moving a + muscle in his face. When the lawyer had finished, he simply said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “First of all,” replied M. Folgat, “I should like to hear your opinion. Do + you believe the statement made by M. de Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I have seen much stranger cases than that.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think, that, in spite of the charges brought against him, we + must believe in his innocence?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, I think nothing at all. Why, you must study a matter before + you can have an opinion.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled; and, looking at the young advocate, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “But why all these preliminaries? What do you want of me?” + </p> + <p> + “Your assistance to get at the truth.” + </p> + <p> + The detective evidently expected something of the kind. After a minute’s + reflection, he looked fixedly at M. Folgat, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “If I understand you correctly, you would like to begin a + counter-investigation for the benefit of the defence?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “And unknown to the prosecution?” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I cannot possibly serve you.” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate knew too well how such things work not to be prepared + for a certain amount of resistance; and he had thought of means to + overcome it. + </p> + <p> + “That is not your final decision, my dear Goudar?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me. I am not my own master. I have my duty to fulfil, and my daily + occupation.” + </p> + <p> + “You can at any time obtain leave of absence for a month.” + </p> + <p> + “So I might; but they would certainly wonder at such a furlough at + headquarters. They would probably have me watched; and, if they found out + that I was doing police work for private individuals, they would scold me + grievously, and deprive themselves henceforth of my services.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “There is no ‘oh!’ about it. They would do what I tell you, and they would + be right; for, after all, what would become of us, and what would become + of the safety and liberty of us all, if any one could come and use the + agents of the police for his private purposes? And what would become of me + if I should lose my place?” + </p> + <p> + “M. de Boiscoran’s family is very rich, and they would prove their + gratitude magnificently to the man who would save him.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I did not save him? And if, instead of gathering proof of his + innocence, I should only meet with more evidence of his guilt?” + </p> + <p> + The objection was so well founded, that M. Folgat preferred not to discuss + it. + </p> + <p> + “I might,” he said, “hand you at once, and as a retainer, a considerable + sum, which you could keep, whatever the result might be.” + </p> + <p> + “What sum? A hundred Napoleons? Certainly a hundred Napoleons are not to + be despised; but what would they do for me if I were turned out? I have to + think of somebody else besides myself. I have a wife and a child; and my + whole fortune consists in this little cottage, which is not even entirely + paid for. My place is not a gold-mine; but, with the special rewards which + I receive, it brings me, good years and bad years, seven or eight thousand + francs, and I can lay by two or three thousand.” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer stopped him by a friendly gesture, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “If I were to offer you ten thousand francs?” + </p> + <p> + “A year’s income.” + </p> + <p> + “If I offered you fifteen thousand!” + </p> + <p> + Goudar made no reply; but his eyes spoke. + </p> + <p> + “It is a most interesting case, this case of M. de Boiscoran,” continued + M. Folgat, “and such as does not occur often. The man who should expose + the emptiness of the accusation would make a great reputation for + himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Would he make friends also at the bar?” + </p> + <p> + “I admit he would not.” + </p> + <p> + The detective shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I confess,” he said, “I do not work for glory, nor from love of my + art. I know very well that vanity is the great motive-power with some of + my colleagues; but I am more practical. I have never liked my profession; + and, if I continue to practise it, it is because I have not the money to + go into any other. It drives my wife to despair, besides: she is only half + alive as long as I am away; and she trembles every morning for fear I may + be brought home with a knife between my shoulders.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat had listened attentively; but at the same time he had pulled out + a pocket-book, which looked decidedly plethoric, and placed it on the + table. + </p> + <p> + “With fifteen thousand francs,” he said, “a man may do something.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true. There is a piece of land for sale adjoining my garden, + which would suit me exactly. Flowers bring a good price in Paris, and that + business would please my wife. Fruit, also yields a good profit.” + </p> + <p> + The advocate knew now that he had caught his man. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, too, my dear Goudar, that, if you succeed, these fifteen + thousand francs would only be a part payment. They might, perhaps, double + the sum. M. de Boiscoran is the most liberal of men, and he would take + pleasure in royally rewarding the man who should have saved him.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he opened the pocket-book, and drew from it fifteen + thousand-franc notes, which he spread out on the table. + </p> + <p> + “To any one but to you,” he went on, “I should hesitate to pay such a sum + in advance. Another man might take the money, and never trouble himself + about the affair. But I know your uprightness; and, if you give me your + word in return for the notes, I shall be satisfied. Come, shall it be so?” + </p> + <p> + The detective was evidently not a little excited; for, self-possessed as + he was, he had turned somewhat pale. He hesitated, handled the bank-notes, + and then, all of a sudden, said,— + </p> + <p> + “Wait two minutes.” + </p> + <p> + He got up instantly, and ran towards the house. + </p> + <p> + “Is he going to consult his wife?” M. Folgat asked himself. + </p> + <p> + He did so; for the next moment they appeared at the other end of the walk, + engaged in a lively discussion. However, the discussion did not last long. + Goudar came back to the bower, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Agreed! I am your man!” + </p> + <p> + The advocate was delighted, and shook his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you!” he cried; “for, with your assistance, I am almost sure of + success. Unfortunately, we have no time to lose. When can you go to work?” + </p> + <p> + “This moment. Give me time to change my costume; and I am at your service. + You will have to give me the keys of the house in Passy.” + </p> + <p> + “I have them here in my pocket.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then let us go there at once; for I must, first of all, reconnoitre + the ground. And you shall see if it takes me long to dress.” + </p> + <p> + In less than fifteen minutes he reappeared in a long overcoat, with gloves + on, looking, for all the world, like one of those retired grocers who have + made a fortune, and settled somewhere outside of the corporation of Paris, + displaying their idleness in broad daylight, and repenting forever that + they have given up their occupation. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go,” he said to the lawyer. + </p> + <p> + After having bowed to Mrs. Goudar, who accompanied them with a radiant + smile, they got into the carriage, calling out to the driver,— + </p> + <p> + “Vine Street, Passy, No. 23.” + </p> + <p> + This Vine Street is a curious street, leading nowhere, little known, and + so deserted, that the grass grows everywhere. It stretches out long and + dreary, is hilly, muddy, scarcely paved, and full of holes, and looks much + more like a wretched village lane than like a street belonging to Paris. + No shops, only a few homes, but on the right and the left interminable + walls, overtopped by lofty trees. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! the place is well chosen for mysterious rendezvouses,” growled + Goudar. “Too well chosen, I dare say; for we shall pick up no information + here.” + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped before a small door, in a thick wall, which bore the + traces of the two sieges in a number of places. + </p> + <p> + “Here is No. 23,” said the driver; “but I see no house.” + </p> + <p> + It could not be seen from the street; but, when they got in, Mr. Folgat + and Goudar saw it, rising in the centre of an immense garden, simple and + pretty, with a double porch, a slate roof, and newly-painted blinds. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” exclaimed the detective, “what a place for a gardener!” + </p> + <p> + And M. Folgat felt so keenly the man’s ill-concealed desire, that he at + once said,— + </p> + <p> + “If we save M. de Boiscoran, I am sure he will not keep this house.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go in,” cried the detective, in a voice which revealed all his + intense desire to succeed. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, Jacques de Boiscoran had spoken but too truly, when he said + that no trace was left of former days. Furniture, carpets, all was new; + and Goudar and M. Folgat in vain explored the four rooms down stairs, and + the four rooms up stairs, the basement, where the kitchen was, and finally + the garret. + </p> + <p> + “We shall find nothing here,” declared the detective. “To satisfy my + conscience, I shall come and spend an afternoon here; but now we have more + important business. Let us go and see the neighbors!” + </p> + <p> + There are not many neighbors in Vine Street. + </p> + <p> + A teacher and a nurseryman, a locksmith and a liveryman, five or six + owners of houses, and the inevitable keeper of a wine-shop and restaurant, + these were the whole population. + </p> + <p> + “We shall soon make the rounds,” said Goudar, after having ordered the + coachman to wait for them at the end of the street. + </p> + <p> + Neither the head master nor his assistants knew any thing. The nurseryman + had heard it said that No. 23 belonged to an Englishman; but he had never + seen him, and did not even know his name. + </p> + <p> + The locksmith knew that he was called Francis Burnett. He had done some + work for him, for which he had been well paid, and thus he had frequently + seen him; but it was so long since, that he did not think he would + recognize him. + </p> + <p> + “We are unlucky,” said M. Folgat, after this visit. + </p> + <p> + The memory of the liveryman was more trustworthy. He said he knew the + Englishman of No. 23 very well, having driven him three or four times; and + the description he gave of him answered fully to Jacques de Boiscoran. He + also remembered that one evening, when the weather was wretched, Sir + Burnett had come himself to order a carriage. It was for a lady, who had + got in alone, and who had been driven to the Place de la Madeleine. But it + was a dark night; the lady wore a thick veil; he had not been able to + distinguish her features, and all he could say was that she looked above + medium height. + </p> + <p> + “It is always the same story,” said Goudar. “But the wine-merchant ought + to be best informed. If I were alone I would breakfast there.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall breakfast with you,” said M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + They did so, and they did wisely. + </p> + <p> + The wine-merchant did not know much; but his waiter, who had been with him + five or six years, knew Sir Burnett, as everybody called the Englishman, + by sight, and was quite well acquainted with the servant-girl, Suky Wood. + While he was bringing in breakfast, he told them all he knew. + </p> + <p> + Suky, he said, was a tall, strapping girl, with hair red enough to set her + bonnets on fire, and graceful enough to be mistaken for a heavy dragoon in + female disguise. He had often had long talks with her when she came to + fetch some ready-made dish, or to buy some beer, of which she was very + fond. She told him she was very pleased with her place, as she got plenty + of money, and had, so to say, nothing to do, being left alone in the house + for nine months in the year. From her the waiter had also learned that Sir + Burnett must have another house, and that he came to Vine Street only to + receive visits from a lady. + </p> + <p> + This lady troubled Suky very much. She declared she had never been able to + see the end of her nose even, so very cautious was she in all her + movements; but she intended to see her in spite of all. + </p> + <p> + “And you may be sure she managed to do it some time or other,” Goudar + whispered into M. Folgat’s ear. + </p> + <p> + Finally they learned from this waiter, that Suky had been very intimate + with the servant of an old gentleman who lived quite alone in No. 27. + </p> + <p> + “We must see her,” said Goudar. + </p> + <p> + Luckily the girl’s master had just gone out, and she was alone in the + house. At first she was a little frightened at being called upon and + questioned by two unknown men; but the detective knew how to reassure her + very quickly, and, as she was a great talker, she confirmed all the waiter + at the restaurant had told them, and added some details. + </p> + <p> + Suky had been very intimate with her; she had never hesitated to tell her + that Burnett was not an Englishman; that his name was not Burnett, and + that he was concealing himself in Vine Street under a false name, for the + purpose of meeting there his lady-love, who was a grand, fine lady, and + marvellously beautiful. Finally, at the outbreak of the war, Suky had told + her that she was going back to England to her relations. When they left + the old bachelor’s house, Goudar said to the young advocate,— + </p> + <p> + “We have obtained but little information, and the jurymen would pay little + attention to it; but there is enough of it to confirm, at least in part, + M. de Boiscoran’s statement. We can prove that he met a lady here who had + the greatest interest in remaining unknown. Was this, as he says, the + Countess Claudieuse? We might find this out from Suky; for she has seen + her, beyond all doubt. Hence we must hunt up Suky. And now, let us take + our carriage, and go to headquarters. You can wait for me at the café near + the Palais de Justice. I shall not be away more than a quarter of an + hour.” + </p> + <p> + It took him, however, a good hour and a half; M. Folgat was beginning to + be troubled, when he at last reappeared, looking very well pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Waiter, a glass of beer!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And, sitting down so as to face the advocate, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I stayed away rather long; but I did not lose any time. In the first + place, I procured a month’s leave of absence; then I put my hand upon the + very man whom I wanted to send after Sir Burnett and Miss Suky. He is a + good fellow, called Barousse, fine like a needle, and speaks English like + a native. He demands twenty-five francs a day, his travelling-expenses, + and a gratuity of fifteen hundred francs if he succeeds. I have agreed to + meet him at six to give him a definite answer. If you accept the + conditions, he will leave for England to-night, well drilled by me.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of any answer, M. Folgat drew from his pocket-book a + thousand-franc note, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Here is something to begin with.” + </p> + <p> + Goudar had finished his beer, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I must leave you. I am going to hang abut M. de Tassar’s + house, and make my inquiries. Perhaps I may pick up something there. + To-morrow I shall spend my day in searching the house in Vine Street and + in questioning all the tradesmen on your list. The day after to-morrow I + shall probably have finished here. So that in four or five days there will + arrive in Sauveterre a somebody, who will be myself.” And as he got up, he + added,— + </p> + <p> + “For I must save M. de Boiscoran. I will and I must do it. He has too nice + a house. Well, we shall see each other at Sauveterre.” + </p> + <p> + It struck four o’clock. M. Folgat left the café immediately after Goudar, + and went down the river to University Street. He was anxious to see the + marquis and the marchioness. + </p> + <p> + “The marchioness is resting,” said the valet; “but the marquis is in his + cabinet.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was shown in, and found him still under the effects of the + terrible scene he had undergone in the morning. He had said nothing to his + wife that he did not really think; but he was distressed at having said it + under such circumstances. And yet he felt a kind of relief; for, to tell + the truth, he felt as if the horrible doubts which he had kept secret so + many years had vanished as soon as they were spoken out. When he saw M. + Folgat, he asked in a sadly-changed voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate repeated in detail the account given by the + marchioness; but he added what the latter had not been able to mention, + because she did not know it, the desperate resolution which Jacques had + formed. At this revelation the marquis looked utterly overcome. + </p> + <p> + “The unhappy man!” he cried. “And I accused him of—He thought of + killing himself!” + </p> + <p> + “And we had a great trouble, M. Magloire, and myself,” added M. Folgat, + “to overcome his resolution, great trouble to make him understand, that + never, under any circumstances, ought an innocent man to think of + committing suicide.” + </p> + <p> + A big tear rolled down the furrowed cheek of the old gentleman; and he + murmured,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I have been cruelly unjust. Poor, unhappy child!” + </p> + <p> + Then he added aloud,— + </p> + <p> + “But I shall see him. I have determined to accompany the marchioness to + Sauveterre. When will you leave?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing keeps me here in Paris. I have done all that could be done, and I + might return this evening. But I am really too tired. I think I shall + to-morrow take the train at 10.45.” + </p> + <p> + “If you do so, we shall travel in company; you understand? To-morrow at + ten o’clock at the Orleans station. We shall reach Sauveterre by + midnight.” + </p> + <p> + XX. + </p> + <p> + When the Marchioness de Boiscoran, on the day of her departure for Paris, + had gone to see her son, Dionysia had asked her to let her go with her. + She resisted, and the young girl did not insist. + </p> + <p> + “I see they are trying to conceal something from me,” she said simply; + “but it does not matter.” + </p> + <p> + And she had taken refuge in the sitting-room; and there, taking her usual + seat, as in the happy days when Jacques spent all his evenings by her + side, she had remained long hours immovable, looking as if, with her + mind’s eye, she was following invisible scenes far away. + </p> + <p> + Grandpapa Chandore and the two aunts were indescribably anxious. They knew + their Dionysia, their darling child, better than she knew herself, having + nursed and watched her for twenty years. They knew every expression of her + face, every gesture, every intonation of voice, and could almost read her + thoughts in her features. + </p> + <p> + “Most assuredly Dionysia is meditating upon something very serious,” they + said. “She is evidently calculating and preparing for a great resolution.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman thought so too, and asked her repeatedly,— + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking of, dear child?” + </p> + <p> + “Of nothing, dear papa,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “You are sadder than usual: why are you so?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! How do I know? Does anybody know why one day we have sunshine in + our hearts, and another day dismal clouds?” + </p> + <p> + But the next day she insisted upon being taken to her seamstresses, and + finding Mechinet, the clerk, there, she remained a full half-hour in + conference with him. Then, in the evening, when Dr. Seignebos, after a + short visit, was leaving the room, she lay in wait for him, and kept him + talking a long time at the door. Finally, the day after, she asked once + more to be allowed to go and see Jacques. They could no longer refuse her + this sad satisfaction; and it was agreed that the older of the two Misses + Lavarande, Miss Adelaide, should accompany her. + </p> + <p> + About two o’clock on that day they knocked at the prison-door, and asked + the jailer, who had come to open the door, to let them see Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go for him at once, madam,” replied Blangin. “In the meantime pray + step in here: the parlor is rather damp, and the less you stay in it, the + better it will be.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia did so, or rather, she did a great deal more; for, leaving her + aunt down stairs, she drew Mrs. Blangin to the upper room, having + something to say to her, as she pretended. + </p> + <p> + When they came down again, Blangin told them that M. de Boiscoran was + waiting for them. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” said the young girl to her aunt. + </p> + <p> + But she had not taken ten steps in the long narrow passage which led to + the parlor, when she stopped. The damp which fell from the vaulted ceiling + like a pall upon her, and the emotions which were agitating her heart, + combined to overwhelm her. She tottered, and had to lean against the wall, + reeking as it was with wet and with saltpetre. + </p> + <p> + “O Lord, you are ill!” cried Miss Adelaide. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia beckoned to her to be silent. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is nothing!” she said. “Be quiet!” + </p> + <p> + And gathering up all her strength, and putting her little hand upon the + old lady’s shoulder, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “My darling aunty, you must render us an immense service. It is all + important that I should speak to Jacques alone. It would be very dangerous + for us to be overheard. I know they often set spies to listen to + prisoners’ talk. Do please, dear aunt, remain here in the passage, and + give us warning, if anybody should come.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not think of it, dear child. Would it be proper?” + </p> + <p> + The young girl stopped her again. + </p> + <p> + “Was it proper when I came and spent a night here? Alas! in our position, + every thing is proper that may be useful.” + </p> + <p> + And, as Aunt Lavarande made no reply, she felt sure of her perfect + submission, and went on towards the parlor. + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia!” cried Jacques as soon as she entered,—“Dionysia!” + </p> + <p> + He was standing in the centre of this mournful hall, looking whiter than + the whitewash on the wall, but apparently calm, and almost smiling. The + violence with which he controlled himself was horrible. But how could he + allow his betrothed to see his despair? Ought he not, on the contrary, do + every thing to reassure her? + </p> + <p> + He came up to her, took her hands in his, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is so kind in you to come! and yet I have looked for you ever + since the morning. I have been watching and waiting, and trembling at + every noise. But will you ever forgive me for having made you come to a + place like this, untidy and ugly, without the fatal poetry of horror + even?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with such obstinate fixedness, that the words expired on + his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Why will you tell me a falsehood?” she said sadly. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you a falsehood!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why do you affect this gayety and tranquillity, which are so far + from your heart? Have you no longer confidence in me? Do you think I am a + child, from whom the truth must be concealed, or so feeble and good for + nothing, that I cannot bear my share of your troubles? Do not smile, + Jacques; for I know you have no hope.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Dionysia, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Jacques. They are concealing something from me, I know, and I do not + ask you to tell me what it is. I know quite enough. You will have to + appear in court.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon. That question has not yet been decided.” + </p> + <p> + “But it will be decided, and against you.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques knew very well it would be so, and dreaded it; but he still + insisted upon playing his part. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “if I appear in court, I shall be acquitted.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I have ninety-nine chances out of a hundred for me.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one, however, against you,” cried the young girl. And seizing + Jacques’s hands, and pressing them with a force of which he would never + have suspected her, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “You have no right to run that one chance.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques trembled in all his limbs. Was it possible? Did he understand her? + Did Dionysia herself come and suggest to him that act of supreme despair, + from which his counsel had so strongly dissuaded him? + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he said with trembling voice. + </p> + <p> + “You must escape.” + </p> + <p> + “Escape?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing so easy. I have considered the whole matter thoroughly. The + jailers are in our pay. I have just come to an understanding with + Blangin’s wife. One evening, as soon as night falls, they will open the + doors to you. A horse will be ready for you outside of town, and relays + have been prepared. In four hours you can reach Rochelle. There, one of + those pilot-boats which can stand any storm takes you on board, and + carries you to England.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “That cannot be,” he replied. “I am innocent. I cannot abandon all I hold + dear,—you, Dionysia.” + </p> + <p> + A deep flush covered the young girl’s cheeks. She stammered,— + </p> + <p> + “I have expressed myself badly. You shall not go alone.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his hands to heaven, as if in utter despair. + </p> + <p> + “Great God! Thou grantest me this consolation!” + </p> + <p> + But Dionysia went on speaking in a firmer voice. + </p> + <p> + “Did you think I would be mean enough to forsake the friend who is + betrayed by everybody else? No, no! Grandpapa and my aunts will accompany + me, and we will meet you in England. You will change your name, and go + across to America; and we will look out, far in the West, for some new + country where we can establish ourselves. It won’t be France, to be sure. + But our country, Jacques, is the country where we are free, where we are + beloved, where we are happy.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran was moved to the last fibre of his innermost heart, + and in a kind of ecstasy which did not allow him to keep up any longer his + mask of impassive indifference. Was there a man upon earth who could + receive a more glorious proof of love and devotion? And from what a woman! + From a young girl, who united in herself all the qualities of which a + single one makes others proud,—intelligence and grace, high rank and + fortune, beauty and angelic purity. + </p> + <p> + Ah! she did not hesitate like that other one; she did not think of asking + for securities before she granted the first favor; she did not make a + science of duplicity, nor hypocrisy her only virtue. She gave herself up + entirely, and without the slightest reserve. + </p> + <p> + And all this at the moment when Jacques saw every thing else around him + crumbled to pieces, when he was on the very brink of utter despair, just + then this happiness came to him, this great and unexpected happiness, + which well-nigh broke his heart. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he could not move, he could not think. + </p> + <p> + Then all of a sudden, drawing his betrothed to him, pressing her + convulsively to his bosom, and covering her hair with a thousand kisses, + he cried,— + </p> + <p> + “I bless you, oh, my darling! I bless you, my well beloved! I shall mourn + no longer. Whatever may happen, I have had my share of heavenly bliss.” + </p> + <p> + She thought he consented. Palpitating like the bird in the hand of a + child, she drew back, and looking at Jacques with ineffable love and + tenderness, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us fix the day!” + </p> + <p> + “What day?” + </p> + <p> + “The day for your flight.” + </p> + <p> + This word alone recalled Jacques to a sense of his fearful position. He + was soaring in the supreme heights of the ether, and he was plunged down + into the vile mud of reality. His face, radiant with celestial joy, grew + dark in an instant, and he said hoarsely,— + </p> + <p> + “That dream is too beautiful to be realized.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” she stammered. + </p> + <p> + “I can not, I must not, escape!” + </p> + <p> + “You refuse me, Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “You refuse me, when I swear to you that I will join you, and share your + exile? Do you doubt my word? Do you fear that my grandfather or my aunts + might keep me here in spite of myself?” + </p> + <p> + As this suppliant voice fell upon his ears, Jacques felt as if all his + energy abandoned him, and his will was shaken. + </p> + <p> + “I beseech you, Dionysia,” he said, “do not insist, do not deprive me of + my courage.” + </p> + <p> + She was evidently suffering agonies. Her eyes shone with unbearable fire. + Her dry lips were trembling. + </p> + <p> + “You will submit to being brought up in court?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + “And if you are condemned?” + </p> + <p> + “I may be, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “This is madness!” cried the young girl. + </p> + <p> + In her despair she was wringing her hands; and then the words escaped from + her lips, almost unconsciously,— + </p> + <p> + “Great God,” she said, “inspire me! How can I bend him? What must I say? + Jacques, do you love me no longer? For my sake, if not for your own, I + beseech you, let us flee! You escape disgrace; you secure liberty. Can + nothing touch you? What do you want? Must I throw myself at your feet?” + </p> + <p> + And she really let herself fall at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Flee!” she repeated again and again. “Oh, flee!” + </p> + <p> + Like all truly energetic men, Jacques recovered in the very excess of his + emotion all his self-possession. Gathering his bewildered thoughts by a + great effort of mind, he raised Dionysia, and carried her, almost + fainting, to the rough prison bench; then, kneeling down by her side, and + taking her hands he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia, for pity’s sake, come to yourself and listen to me. I am + innocent; and to flee would be to confess that I am guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! what does that matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that my escape would stop the trial? No. Although absent, I + should still be tried, and found guilty without any opposition: I should + be condemned, disgraced, irrevocably dishonored.” + </p> + <p> + “What does it matter?” + </p> + <p> + Then he felt that such arguments would never bring her back to reason. He + rose, therefore, and said in a firm voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you what you do not know. To flee would be easy, I agree. I + think, as you do, we could reach England readily enough, and we might even + take ship there without trouble. But what then? The cable is faster than + the fastest steamer; and, upon landing on American soil, I should, no + doubt, be met by agents with orders to arrest me. But suppose even I + should escape this first danger. Do you think there is in all this world + an asylum for incendiaries and murderers? There is none. At the extreme + confines of civilization I should still meet with police-agents and + soldiers, who, an extradition treaty in hand, would give me up to the + government of my country. If I were alone, I might possibly escape all + these dangers. But I should never succeed if I had you near me, and + Grandpapa Chandore, and your two aunts.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was forcibly struck by these objections, of which she had had no + idea. She said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Still, suppose we might possibly escape all such dangers. What would our + life be! Do you know what it would mean to have to hide and to run + incessantly, to have to avoid the looks of every stranger, and to tremble, + day by day, at the thought of discovery? With me, Dionysia, your existence + would be that of the wife of one of those banditti whom the police are + hunting down in his dens. And you ought to know that such a life is so + intolerable, that hardened criminals have been unable to endure it, and + have given up their life for the boon of a night’s quiet sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Big tears were silently rolling down the poor girl’s cheeks. She murmured,— + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you are right, Jacques. But, O Jacques, if they should condemn + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should at least have done my duty. I should have met fate, and + defended my honor. And, whatever the sentence may be, it will not + overthrow me; for, as long as my heart beats within me, I mean to defend + myself. And, if I die before I succeed in proving my innocence, I shall + leave it to you, Dionysia, to your kindred, and to my friends, to continue + the struggle, and to restore my honor.” + </p> + <p> + She was worthy of comprehending and of appreciating such sentiments. + </p> + <p> + “I was wrong, Jacques,” she said, offering him her hand: “you must forgive + me.” + </p> + <p> + She had risen, and, after a few moments’ hesitation, was about to leave + the room, when Jacques retained her, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “I do not mean to escape; but would not the people who have agreed to + favor my evasion be willing to furnish me the means for passing a few + hours outside of my prison?” + </p> + <p> + “I think they would,” replied the young girl; “And, if you wish it, I will + make sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That might be a last resort.” + </p> + <p> + With these words they parted, exhorting each other to keep up their + courage, and promising each other to meet again during the next days. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia found her poor aunt Lavarande very tired of the long watch; and + they hastened home. + </p> + <p> + “How pale you are!” exclaimed M. de Chandore, when he saw his + grand-daughter; “and how red your eyes are! What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + She told him every thing; and the old gentleman felt chilled to the marrow + of his bones, when he found that it had depended on Jacques alone to carry + off his grandchild. But he had not done so. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he is an honest man!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And, pressing his lips on Dionysia’s brow, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “And you love him more than ever?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” she replied, “is he not more unhappy than ever?” + </p> + <p> + XXI. + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard the news?” + </p> + <p> + “No: what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia de Chandore has been to see M. de Boiscoran in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed! Twenty people have seen her come back from there, leaning on + the arm of the older Miss Lavarande. She went in at ten minutes past ten, + and she did not come out till a quarter-past three.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the young woman mad?” + </p> + <p> + “And the aunt—what do you think of the aunt?” + </p> + <p> + “She must be as mad as the niece.” + </p> + <p> + “And M. de Chandore?” + </p> + <p> + “He must have lost his senses to allow such a scandal. But you know very + well, grandfather and aunts never had any will but Dionysia’s.” + </p> + <p> + “A nice training!” + </p> + <p> + “And nice fruits of such an education! After such a scandal, no man will + be bold enough to marry her.” + </p> + <p> + Such were the comments on Dionysia’s visit to Jacques, when the news + became known. It flew at once all over town. The ladies “in society” could + not recover from it; for people are exceedingly virtuous at Sauveterre, + and hence they claim the right of being exceedingly strict in their + judgment. There is no trifling permitted on the score of propriety. + </p> + <p> + The person who defies public opinion is lost. Now, public opinion was + decidedly against Jacques de Boiscoran. He was down, and everybody was + ready to kick him. + </p> + <p> + “Will he get out of it?” + </p> + <p> + This problem, which was day by day discussed at the “Literary Club,” had + called forth torrents of eloquence, terrible discussions, and even one or + two serious quarrels, one of which had ended in a duel. But nobody asked + any longer,— + </p> + <p> + “Is he innocent?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos’s eloquence, the influence of M. Seneschal, and the cunning + plots of Mechinet, had all failed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what an interesting trial it will be!” said many people, who were all + eagerness to know who would be the presiding judge, in order to ask him + for tickets of admission. Day by day the interest in the trial became + deeper; and all who were in any way connected with it were watched with + great curiosity. Everybody wanted to know what they were doing, what they + thought, and what they had said. + </p> + <p> + They saw in the absence of the Marquis de Boiscoran an additional proof of + Jacques’s guilt. The continued presence of M. Folgat also created no small + wonder. His extreme reserve, which they ascribed to his excessive and + ill-placed pride, had made him generally disliked. And now they said,— + </p> + <p> + “He must have hardly any thing to do in Paris, that he can spend so many + months in Sauveterre.” + </p> + <p> + The editor of “The Sauveterre Independent” naturally found the affair a + veritable gold-mine for his paper. He forgot his old quarrel with the + editor of “The Impartial Journal,” whom he accused of Bonapartism, and who + retaliated by calling him a Communist. Each day brought, in addition to + the usual mention under the “local” head, some article on the “Boiscoran + Case.” He wrote,— + </p> + <p> + “The health of Count C., instead of improving, is declining visibly. He + used to get up occasionally when he first came to Sauveterre; and now he + rarely leaves his bed. The wound in the shoulder, which at first seemed to + be the least dangerous, has suddenly become much inflamed, owing to the + tropical heat of the last days. At one time gangrene was apprehended, and + it was feared that amputation would become necessary. Yesterday Dr. S. + seemed to be much disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “And, as misfortunes never come singly, the youngest daughter of Count C. + is very ill. She had the measles at the time of the fire; and the fright, + the cold, and the removal, have brought on a relapse, which may be + dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “Amid all these cruel trials, the Countess C. is admirable in her + devotion, her courage, and her resignation. Whenever she leaves the + bedside of her dear patients to pray at church for them, she is received + with the most touching sympathy and the most sincere admiration by the + whole population.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that wretch Boiscoran!” cried the good people of Sauveterre when they + read such an article. + </p> + <p> + The next day, they found this,— + </p> + <p> + “We have sent to the hospital to inquire from the lady superior how the + poor idiot is, who has taken such a prominent part in the bloody drama at + Valpinson. His mental condition remains unchanged since he has been + examined by experts. The spark of intelligence which the crime had + elicited seems to be extinguished entirely and forever. It is impossible + to obtain a word from him. He is, however, not locked up. Inoffensive and + gentle, like a poor animal that has lost its master, he wanders mournfully + through the courts and gardens of the hospital. Dr. S., who used to take a + lively interest in him, hardly ever sees him now. + </p> + <p> + “It was thought at one time, that C. would be summoned to give evidence in + the approaching trial. We are informed by high authority, that such a + dramatic scene must not be expected to take place. C. will not appear + before the jury.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Cocoleu’s deposition must have been an interposition of + Providence,” said people who were not far from believing that it was a + genuine miracle. + </p> + <p> + The next day the editor took M. Galpin in hand. + </p> + <p> + “M. G., the eminent magistrate, is very unwell just now, and very + naturally so after an investigation of such length and importance as that + which preceded the Boiscoran trial. We are told that he only awaits the + decree of the court, to ask for a furlough and to go to one of the rural + stations of the Pyrenees.” + </p> + <p> + Then came Jacques’s turn,— + </p> + <p> + “M. J. de B. stands his imprisonment better than could be expected. + According to direct information, his health is excellent, and his spirits + do not seem to have suffered. He reads much, and spends part of the night + in preparing his defence, and making notes for his counsel.” + </p> + <p> + Then came, from day to day, smaller items,— + </p> + <p> + “M. J. de B. is no longer in close confinement.” + </p> + <p> + Or,— + </p> + <p> + “M. de B. had this morning an interview with his counsel, M. M., the most + eminent member of our bar, and M. F., a young but distinguished advocate + from Paris. The conference lasted several hours. We abstain from giving + details; but our readers will understand the reserve required in the case + of an accused who insists upon protesting energetically that he is + innocent.” + </p> + <p> + And, again,— + </p> + <p> + “M. de B. was yesterday visited by his mother.” + </p> + <p> + Or, finally,— + </p> + <p> + “We hear at the last moment that the Marchioness de B. and M. Folgat have + left for Paris. Our correspondent in P. writes us that the decree of the + court will not be delayed much longer.” + </p> + <p> + Never had “The Sauveterre Independent” been read with so much interest. + And, as everybody endeavored to be better informed than his neighbor, + quite a number of idle men had assumed the duty of watching Jacques’s + friends, and spent their days in trying to find out what was going on at + M. de Chandore’s house. Thus it came about, that, on the evening of + Dionysia’s visit to Jacques, the street was full of curious people. + Towards half-past ten, they saw M. de Chandore’s carriage come out of the + courtyard, and draw up at the door. At eleven o’clock M. de Chandore and + Dr. Seignebos got in, the coachman whipped the horse, and they drove off. + </p> + <p> + “Where can they be going?” asked they. + </p> + <p> + They followed the carriage. The two gentlemen drove to the station. They + had received a telegram, and were expecting the return of the marchioness + and M. Folgat, accompanied, this time, by the old marquis. + </p> + <p> + They reached there much too soon. The local branch railway which goes to + Sauveterre is not famous for regularity, and still reminds its patrons + occasionally of the old habits of stage-coaches, when the driver or the + conductor had, at the last moment, to stop to pick up something they had + forgotten. At a quarter-past midnight the train, which ought to have been + there twenty minutes before, had not yet been signalled. Every thing + around was silent and deserted. Through the windows the station-master + might be seen fast asleep in his huge leather chair. Clerks and porters + all were asleep, stretched out on the benches of the waiting-room. But + people are accustomed to such delays at Sauveterre; they are prepared for + being kept waiting: and the doctor and M. de Chandore were walking up and + down the platform, being neither astonished nor impatient at the + irregularity. Nor would they have been much surprised if they had been + told that they were closely watched all the time: they knew their good + town. Still it was so. Two curious men, more obstinate than the others, + had jumped into the omnibus which runs between the station and the town; + and now, standing a little aside, they said to each other,— + </p> + <p> + “I say, what can they be waiting for?” + </p> + <p> + At last towards one o’clock, a bell rang, and the station seemed to start + into life. The station-master opened his door, the porters stretched + themselves and rubbed their eyes, oaths were heard, doors slammed, and the + large hand-barrows came in sight. + </p> + <p> + Then a low thunder-like noise came nearer and nearer; and almost instantly + a fierce red light at the far end of the track shone out in the dark night + like a ball of fire. M. de Chandore and the doctor hastened to the + waiting-room. + </p> + <p> + The train stopped. A door opened, and the marchioness appeared, leaning on + M. Folgat’s arm. The marquis, a travelling-bag in hand, followed next. + </p> + <p> + “That was it!” said the volunteer spies, who had flattened their noses + against the window-panes. + </p> + <p> + And, as the train brought no other passengers, they succeeded in making + the omnibus conductor start at once, eager as they were to proclaim the + arrival of the prisoner’s father. + </p> + <p> + The hour was unfavorable: everybody was asleep; but they did not give up + the hope of finding somebody yet at the club. People stay up very late at + the club, for there is play going on there, and at times pretty heavy + play: you can lose your five hundred francs quite readily there. Thus the + indefatigable news-hunters had a fair chance of finding open ears for + their great piece of news. And yet, if they had been less eager to spread + it, they might have witnessed, perhaps not entirely unmoved, this first + interview between M. de Chandore and the Marquis de Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + By a natural impulse they had both hastened forward, and shook hands in + the most energetic manner. Tears stood in their eyes. They opened their + lips to speak; but they said nothing. Besides, there was no need of words + between them. That close embrace had told Jacques’s father clearly enough + what Dionysia’s grandfather must have suffered. They remained thus + standing motionless, looking at each other, when Dr. Seignebos, who could + not be still for any length of time, came up, and asked,— + </p> + <p> + “The trunks are on the carriage: shall we go?” + </p> + <p> + They left the station. The night was clear; and on the horizon, above the + dark mass of the sleeping town, there rose against the pale-blue sky the + two towers of the old castle, which now served as prison to Sauveterre. + </p> + <p> + “That is the place where my Jacques is kept,” murmured the marquis. “There + my son is imprisoned, accused of horrible crimes.” + </p> + <p> + “We will get him out of it,” said the doctor cheerfully, as he helped the + old gentleman into the carriage. + </p> + <p> + But in vain did he try, during the drive, to rouse, as he called it, the + spirits of his companions. His hopes found no echo in their distressed + hearts. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat inquired after Dionysia, whom he had been surprised not to see + at the station. M. de Chandore replied that she had staid at home with the + Misses Lavarande, to keep M. Magloire company; and that was all. + </p> + <p> + There are situations in which it is painful to talk. The marquis had + enough to do to suppress the spasmodic sobs which now and then would rise + in his throat. He was upset by the thought that he was at Sauveterre. + Whatever may be said to the contrary, distance does not weaken our + emotions. Shaking hands with M. de Chandore in person had moved him more + deeply than all the letters he had received for a month. And when he saw + Jacques’s prison from afar, he had the first clear notion of the horrible + tortures endured by his son. The marchioness was utterly exhausted: she + felt as if all the springs in her system were broken. + </p> + <p> + M. de Chandore trembled when he looked at them, and saw how they all were + on the point of succumbing. If they despaired, what could he hope for,—he, + who knew how indissolubly Dionysia’s fate in life was connected with + Jacques? + </p> + <p> + At length the carriage stopped before his house. The door opened + instantly, and the marchioness found herself in Dionysia’s arms, and soon + after comfortably seated in an easy-chair. The others had followed her. It + was past two o’clock; but every minute now was valuable. Arranging his + spectacles, Dr. Seignebos said,— + </p> + <p> + “I propose that we exchange our information. I, for my part, I am still at + the same point. But you know my views. I do not give them up. Cocoleu is + an impostor, and it shall be proved. I appear to notice him no longer; + but, in reality, I watch him more closely than ever.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia interrupted him, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Before any thing is decided, there is one fact which you all ought to + know. Listen.” + </p> + <p> + Pale like death, for it cost her a great struggle to reveal thus the + secret of her heart, but with a voice full of energy, and an eye full of + fire, she told them what she had already confessed to her grandfather; + viz., the propositions she had made to Jacques, and his obstinate refusal + to accede to them. + </p> + <p> + “Well done, madame!” said Dr. Seignebos, full of enthusiasm. “Well done! + Jacques is very unfortunate, and still he is to be envied.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia finished her recital. Then, turning with a triumphant air to M. + Magloire, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “After that, is there any one yet who could believe that Jacques is a vile + assassin?” + </p> + <p> + The eminent advocate of Sauveterre was not one of those men who prize + their opinions more highly than truth itself. + </p> + <p> + “I confess,” he said, “that, if I were to go and see Jacques to-morrow for + the first time, I should not speak to him as I did before.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” exclaimed the Marquis de Boiscoran,—“I declare that I + answer for my son as for myself, and I mean to tell him so to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning towards his wife, and speaking so low, that she alone could + hear him, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “And I hope you will forgive me those suspicions which now fill me with + horror.” + </p> + <p> + But the marchioness had no strength left: she fainted, and had to be + removed, accompanied by Dionysia and the Misses Lavarande. As soon as they + were out of the room, Dr. Seignebos locked the door, rested his elbow on + the chimney, and, taking off his spectacles to wipe them, said to M. + Folgat,— + </p> + <p> + “Now we can speak freely. What news do you bring us?” + </p> + <p> + XXII. + </p> + <p> + It had just struck eleven o’clock, when the jailer, Blangin, entered + Jacques’s cell in great excitement, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, your father is down stairs.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner jumped up, thunderstruck. + </p> + <p> + The night before he had received a note from M. de Chandore, informing him + of the marquis’s arrival; and his whole time had since been spent in + preparing himself for the interview. How would it be? He had nothing by + which to judge. He had therefore determined to be quite reserved. And, + whilst he was following Blangin along the dismal passage and down the + interminable steps, he was busily composing respectful phrases, and trying + to look self-possessed. + </p> + <p> + But, before he could utter a single word, he was in his father’s arms. He + felt himself pressed against his heart, and heard him stammer,— + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, my dear son, my unfortunate child!” + </p> + <p> + In all his life, long and stormy as it had been, the marquis had not been + tried so severely. Drawing Jacques to one of the parlor-windows, and + leaning back a little, so as to see him better, he was amazed how he could + ever have doubted his son. It seemed to him that he was standing there + himself. He recognized his own feature and carriage, his own frank but + rather haughty expression, his own clear, bright eye. + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly noticing details, he was shocked to see Jacques so much + reduced. He found him looking painfully pale, and he actually discovered + at the temples more than one silvery hair amid his thick black curls. + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” he said. “How you must have suffered!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought I should lose my senses,” replied Jacques simply. + </p> + <p> + And with a tremor in his voice, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “But, dear father, why did you give me no sign of life? Why did you stay + away so long?” + </p> + <p> + The marquis was not unprepared for such a question. But how could he + answer it? Could he ever tell Jacques the true secret of his hesitation? + Turning his eyes aside, he answered,— + </p> + <p> + “I hoped I should be able to serve you better by remaining in Paris.” But + his embarrassment was too evident to escape Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “You did not doubt your own child, father?” he asked sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” cried the marquis, “I never doubted a moment. Ask your mother, + and she will tell you that it was this proud assurance I felt which kept + me from coming down with her. When I heard of what they accused you, I + said ‘It is absurd!’” + </p> + <p> + Jacques shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “The accusation was absurd; and yet you see what it has brought me to.” + </p> + <p> + Two big tears, which he could no longer retain, burnt in the eyes of the + old gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “You blame me, Jacques,” he said. “You blame your father.” + </p> + <p> + There is not a man alive who could see his father shed tears, and not feel + his heart melt within him. All the resolutions Jacques had formed vanished + in an instant. Pressing his father’s hand in his own, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not blame you, father. And still I have no words to tell you how + much your absence has added to my sufferings. I thought I was abandoned, + disowned.” + </p> + <p> + For the first time since his imprisonment, the unfortunate man found a + heart to whom he could confide all the bitterness that overflowed in his + own heart. With his mother and with Dionysia, honor forbade him to show + despair. The incredulity of M. Magloire had made all confidence + impossible; and M. Folgat, although as sympathetic as man could be was, + after all, a perfect stranger. + </p> + <p> + But now he had near him a friend, the dearest and most precious friend + that a man can ever have,—his father: now he had nothing to fear. + </p> + <p> + “Is there a human being in this world,” he said, “whose misfortunes equal + mine? To be innocent, and not to be able to prove it! To know the guilty + one, and not to dare mention the name. Ah! at first I did not take in the + whole horror of my situation. I was frightened, to be sure; but I had + recovered, thinking that surely justice would not be slow in discovering + the truth. Justice! It was my friend Galpin who represented it, and he + cared little enough for truth: his only aim was to prove that the man whom + he accused was the guilty man. Read the papers, father, and you will see + how I have been victimized by the most unheard-of combination of + circumstances. Every thing is against me. Never has that mysterious, + blind, and absurd power manifested itself so clearly,—that awful + power which we call fate. + </p> + <p> + “First I was kept by a sense of honor from mentioning the name of the + Countess Claudieuse, and then by prudence. The first time I mentioned it + to M. Magloire, he told me I lied. Then I thought every thing lost. I saw + no other end but the court, and, after the trial, the galleys or the + scaffold. I wanted to kill myself. My friends made me understand that I + did not belong to myself, and that, as long as I had a spark of energy and + a ray of intelligence left me, I had no right to dispose of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor, poor child!” said the marquis. “No, you have no such right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday,” continued Jacques, “Dionysia came to see me. Do you know what + brought her here? She offered to flee with me. Father, that temptation was + terrible. Once free, and Dionysia by my side, what cared I for the world? + She insisted, like the matchless girl that she is; and look there, there, + on the spot where you now stand, she threw herself at my feet, imploring + me to flee. I doubt whether I can save my life; but I remain here.” + </p> + <p> + He felt deeply moved, and sank upon the rough bench, hiding his face in + his hands, perhaps to conceal his tears. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, however, he was seized with one of those attacks of rage which + had come to him but too often during his imprisonment, and he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “But what have I done to deserve such fearful punishment?” + </p> + <p> + The brow of the marquis suddenly darkened; and he replied solemnly,— + </p> + <p> + “You have coveted your neighbor’s wife, my son.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques shrugged his shoulders. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “I loved the Countess Claudieuse, and she loved me.” + </p> + <p> + “Adultery is a crime, Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + “A crime? Magloire said the same thing. But, father, do you really think + so? Then it is a crime which has nothing appalling about it, to which + every thing invites and encourages, of which everybody boasts, and at + which the world smiles. The law, it is true, gives the husband the right + of life and death; but, if you appeal to the law, it gives the guilty man + six months’ imprisonment, or makes him pay a few thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + Ah, if he had known, the unfortunate man! + </p> + <p> + “Jacques,” said the marquis, “the Countess Claudieuse hints, as you say, + that one of her daughters, the youngest, is your child?” + </p> + <p> + “That may be so.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis de Boiscoran shuddered. Then he exclaimed bitterly,— + </p> + <p> + “That may be so! You say that carelessly, indifferently, madman! Did you + never think of the grief Count Claudieuse would feel if he should learn + the truth? And even if he merely suspected it! Can you not comprehend that + such a suspicion is quite sufficient to embitter a whole life, to ruin the + life of that girl? Have you never told yourself that such a doubt inflicts + a more atrocious punishment than any thing you have yet suffered?” + </p> + <p> + He paused. A few words more, and he would have betrayed his secret. + Checking his excitement by an heroic effort, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “But I did not come here to discuss this question; I came to tell you, + that, whatever may happen, your father will stand by you, and that, if you + must undergo the disgrace of appearing in court, I will take a seat by + your side.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of his own great trouble, Jacques had not been able to avoid + seeing his father’s unusual excitement and his sudden vehemence. For a + second, he had a vague perception of the truth; but, before the suspicion + could assume any shape, it had vanished before this promise which his + father made, to face by his side the overwhelming humiliation of a + judgment in court,—a promise full of divine self-abnegation and + paternal love. His gratitude burst forth in the words,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, father! I ought to ask your pardon for ever having doubted your heart + for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + M. de Boiscoran tried his best to recover his self-possession. At last he + said in an earnest voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I love you, my son; and still you must not make me out more of a + hero than I am. I still hope we may be spared the appearance in court.” + </p> + <p> + “Has any thing new been discovered?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Folgat has found some traces which justify legitimate hopes, although, + as yet, no real success has been achieved.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques looked rather discouraged. + </p> + <p> + “Traces?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Be patient. They are feeble traces, I admit, and such as could not be + produced in court; but from day to day they may become decisive. And + already they have had one good effect: they have brought us back M. + Magloire.” + </p> + <p> + “O God! Could I really be saved?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall leave to M. Folgat,” continued the marquis, “the satisfaction of + telling you the result of his efforts. He can explain their bearing better + than I could. And you will not have long to wait; for last night, or + rather this morning, when we separated, he and M. Magloire agreed to meet + here at the prison, before two o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later a rapid step approached in the passage; and Trumence + appeared, the prisoner of whom Blangin had made an assistant, and whom + Mechinet had employed to carry Jacques’s letters to Dionysia. He was a + tall well-made man of twenty-five or six years, whose large mouth and + small eyes were perpetually laughing. A vagabond without hearth or home, + Trumence had once been a land-owner. At the death of his parents, when he + was only eighteen years old, Trumence had come into possession of a house + surrounded by a yard, a garden, several acres of land, and a salt meadow; + all worth about fifteen thousand francs. Unfortunately the time for the + conscription was near. Like many young men of that district, Trumence + believed in witchcraft, and had gone to buy a charm, which cost him fifty + francs. It consisted of three tamarind-branches gathered on Christmas Eve, + and tied together by a magic number of hairs drawn from a dead man’s head. + Having sewed this charm into his waistcoat, Trumence had gone to town, + and, plunging his hand boldly into the urn, had drawn number three. This + was unexpected. But as he had a great horror of military service, and, + well-made as he was, felt quite sure that he would not be rejected, he + determined to employ a chance much more certain to succeed; namely, to + borrow money in order to buy a substitute. + </p> + <p> + As he was a land-owner, he found no difficulty in meeting with an obliging + person, who consented to lend him for two years thirty-five hundred + francs, in return for a first mortgage on his property. When the papers + were signed, and Trumence had the money in his pocket, he set out for + Rochefort, where dealers in substitutes abounded; and for the sum of two + thousand francs, exclusive of some smaller items, they furnished him a + substitute of the best quality. + </p> + <p> + Delighted with the operation, Trumence was about to return home, when his + evil star led him to sup at his inn with a countryman, a former + schoolmate, who was now a sailor on board a coal-barge. Of course, + countrymen when they meet must drink. They did drink; and, as the sailor + very soon scented the twelve hundred francs which remained in Trumence’s + pockets, he swore that he was going to have a jolly time, and would not + return on board his barge as long as there remained a cent in his friend’s + pocket. So it happened, that, after a fortnight’s carouse, the sailor was + arrested and put in jail; and Trumence was compelled to borrow five francs + from the stage-driver to enable him to get home. + </p> + <p> + This fortnight was decisive for his life. During these days he had lost + all taste for work, and acquired a real passion for taverns where they + played with greasy cards. After his return he tried to continue this jolly + life; and, to do so, he made more debts. He sold, piece after piece, all + he possessed that was salable, down to his mattress and his tools. This + was not the way to repay the thirty-five hundred francs which he owed. + When pay-day came, the creditor, seeing that his security was diminishing + every day, lost no time. Before Trumence was well aware of what was going + on, an execution was in the house; his lands were sold; and one fine day + he found himself in the street, possessing literally nothing in the world + but the wretched clothes on his back. + </p> + <p> + He might easily have found employment; for he was a good workman, and + people were fond of him in spite of all. But he was even more afraid of + work than he was fond of drink. Whenever want pressed too hard, he worked + a few days; but, as soon as he had earned ten francs, good-by! Off he + went, lounging by the road-side, talking with the wagoners, or loafing + about the villages, and watching for one of those kind topers, who, rather + than drink alone, invite the first-comer. Trumence boasted of being well + known all along the coast, and even far into the department. And what was + most surprising was that people did not blame him much for his idleness. + Good housewives in the country would, it is true, greet him with a “Well, + what do you want here, good-for-nothing?” But they would rarely refuse him + a bowl of soup or a glass of white wine. His unchanging good-humor, and + his obliging disposition, explained this forbearance. This man, who would + refuse a well-paid job, was ever ready to lend a hand for nothing. And he + was handy at every thing, by land and by water, he called it, so that the + farmer whose business was pressing, and the fisherman in his boat who + wanted help, appealed alike to Trumence. + </p> + <p> + The mischief, however, is, that this life of rural beggary, if it has its + good days, also has its evil times. On certain days, Trumence could not + find either kind-hearted topers or hospitable housewives. Hunger, however, + was ever on hand; then he had to become a marauder; dig some potatoes, and + cook them in a corner of a wood, or pilfer the orchards. And if he found + neither potatoes in the fields, nor apples in the orchards, what could he + do but climb a fence, or scale a wall? + </p> + <p> + Relatively speaking, Trumence was an honest man, and incapable of stealing + a piece of money; but vegetables, fruits, chickens— + </p> + <p> + Thus it had come about that he had been arrested twice, and condemned to + several days’ imprisonment; and each time he had vowed solemnly that he + would never be caught at it again, and that he was going to work hard. And + yet he had been caught again. + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow had told his misfortunes to Jacques; and Jacques, who owed + it to him that he could, when still in close confinement, correspond with + Dionysia, felt very kindly towards him. Hence, when he saw him come up + very respectful, and cap in hand, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Trumence?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied the vagrant, “M. Blangin sends you word that the two + advocates are coming up to your room.” + </p> + <p> + Once more the marquis embraced his son, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not keep them waiting, and keep up your courage.” + </p> + <p> + XXIII. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis de Boiscoran had not been mistaken about M. Magloire. Much + shaken by Dionysia’s statement, he had been completely overcome by M. + Folgat’s explanations; and, when he now came to the jail, it was with a + determination to prove Jacques’s innocence. + </p> + <p> + “But I doubt very much whether he will ever forgive me for my + incredulity,” he said to M. Folgat while they were waiting for the + prisoner in his cell. + </p> + <p> + Jacques came in, still deeply moved by the scene with his father. M. + Magloire went up to him, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I have never been able to conceal my thoughts, Jacques. When I thought + you guilty, and felt sure that you accused the Countess Claudieuse + falsely, I told you so with almost brutal candor. I have since found out + my error, and am now convinced of the truth of your statement: so I come + and tell you as frankly, Jacques, I was wrong to have had more faith in + the reputation of a woman than in the words of a friend. Will you give me + your hand?” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner grasped his hand with a profusion of joy, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Since you believe in my innocence, others may believe in me too, and my + salvation is drawing near.” + </p> + <p> + The melancholy faces of the two advocates told him that he was rejoicing + too soon. His features expressed his grief; but he said with a firm voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I see that the struggle will be a hard one, and that the result is + still uncertain. Never mind. You may be sure I will not give way.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime M. Folgat had spread out on the table all the papers he + had brought with him,—copies furnished by Mechinet, and notes taken + during his rapid journey. + </p> + <p> + “First of all, my dear client,” he said, “I must inform you of what has + been done.” + </p> + <p> + And when he had stated every thing, down to the minutest details of what + Goudar and he had done, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us sum up. We are able to prove three things: 1. That the house in + Vine Street belongs to you, and that Sir Francis Burnett, who is known + there, and you are one; 2. That you were visited in this house by a lady, + who, from all the precautions she took, had powerful reasons to remain + unknown; 3. That the visits of this lady took place at certain epochs + every year, which coincided precisely with the journeys which the Countess + Claudieuse yearly made to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + The great advocate of Sauveterre expressed his assent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “all this is fully established.” + </p> + <p> + “For ourselves, we have another certainty,—that Suky Wood, the + servant of the false Sir Francis Burnett, has watched the mysterious lady; + that she has seen her, and consequently would know her again.” + </p> + <p> + “True, that appears from the deposition of the girl’s friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Consequently, if we discover Suky Wood, the Countess Claudieuse is + unmasked.” + </p> + <p> + “If we discover her,” said M. Magloire. “And here, unfortunately, we enter + into the region of suppositions.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppositions!” said M. Folgat. “Well, call them so; but they are based + upon positive facts, and supported by a hundred precedents. Why should we + not find this Suky Wood, whose birthplace and family we know, and who has + no reason for concealment? Goudar has found very different people; and + Goudar is on our side. And you may be sure he will not be asleep. I have + held out to him a certain hope which will make him do miracles,—the + hope of receiving as a reward, if he succeeds, the house in Vine Street. + The stakes are too magnificent: he must win the game,—he who has won + so many already. Who knows what he may not have discovered since we left + him? Has he not done wonders already?” + </p> + <p> + “It is marvellous!” cried Jacques, amazed at these results. + </p> + <p> + Older than M. Folgat and Jacques, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre was + less ready to feel such enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “it is marvellous; and, if we had time, I would say as you + do, ‘We shall carry the day!’ But there is no time for Goudar’s + investigations: the sessions are on hand, and it seems to me it would be + very difficult to obtain a postponement.” + </p> + <p> + “Besides, I do not wish it to be postponed,” said Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “But”— + </p> + <p> + “On no account, Magloire, never! What? I should endure three months more + of this anguish which tortures me? I could not do it: my strength is + exhausted. This uncertainty has been too much for me. I could bear no more + suspense.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat interrupted him, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not trouble yourself about that: a postponement is out of the + question. On what pretext could we ask for it? The only way would be to + introduce an entirely new element in the case. We should have to summon + the Countess Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + The greatest surprise appeared on Jacques’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Will we not summon her anyhow?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That depends.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very simple, however. If Goudar should succeed, before the trial, + in collecting sufficient evidence against her, I should summon her + certainly; and then the case would naturally change entirely; the whole + proceeding would begin anew; and you would probably appear only as a + witness. If, on the contrary, we obtain, before the trial begins, no other + proof but what we have now, I shall not mention her name even; for that + would, in my opinion, and in M. Magloire’s opinion, ruin your cause + irrevocably.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the great advocate, “that is my opinion.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques’s amazement was boundless. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” he said, “in self-defence, I must, if I am brought up in court, + speak of my relations to the Countess Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is my only explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “If it were credited.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think you can defend me, you think you can save me, without + telling the truth?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “In court the truth is the last thing to be thought of.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think the jury would credit allegations which M. Magloire did not + credit? No. Well, then, we had better not speak of them any more, and try + to find some explanation which will meet the charges brought against you. + Do you think we should be the first to act thus? By no means. There are + very few cases in which the prosecution says all it knows, and still fewer + in which the defence calls for every thing it might call for. Out of ten + criminal trials, there are at least three in which side-issues are raised. + What will be the charge in court against you? The substance of the romance + which the magistrate has invented in order to prove your guilt. You must + meet him with another romance which proves your innocence.” + </p> + <p> + “But the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Is dependent on probability, my dear client. Ask M. Magloire. The + prosecution only asks for probability: hence probability is all the + defence has to care for. Human justice is feeble, and limited in its + means; it cannot go down to the very bottom of things; it cannot judge of + motives, and fathom consciences. It can only judge from appearances, and + decide by plausibility; there is hardly a case which has not some + unexplored mystery, some undiscovered secret. The truth! Ah! do you think + M. Galpin has looked for it? If he did, why did he not summon Cocoleu? But + no, as long as he can produce a criminal, who may be responsible for the + crime, he is quite content. The truth! Which of us knows the real truth? + Your case, M. de Boiscoran, is one of those in which neither the + prosecution, nor the defence, nor the accused himself, knows the truth of + the matter.” + </p> + <p> + There followed a long silence, so deep a silence, that the step of the + sentinel could be heard, who was walking up and down under the + prison-windows. M. Folgat had said all he thought proper to say: he + feared, in saying more, to assume too great a responsibility. It was, + after all, Jacques’s life and Jacques’s honor which were at stake. He + alone, therefore, ought to decide the nature of his defence. If his + judgment was too forcibly controlled by his counsel, he would have had a + right hereafter to say, “Why did you not leave me free to choose? I should + not have been condemned.” + </p> + <p> + To show this very clearly, M. Folgat went on,— + </p> + <p> + “The advice I give you, my dear client, is, in my eyes, the best; it is + the advice I would give my own brother. But, unfortunately, I cannot say + it is infallible. You must decide yourself. Whatever you may resolve, I am + still at your service.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques made no reply. His elbows resting on the table, his face in his + hands, he remained motionless, like a statue, absorbed in his thoughts. + What should he do? Should he follow his first impulse, tear the veil + aside, and proclaim the truth? That was a doubtful policy, but also, what + a triumph if he succeeded! + </p> + <p> + Should he adopt the views of his counsel, employ subterfuges and + falsehoods? That was more certain of success; but to be successful in this + way—was that a real victory? + </p> + <p> + Jacques was in a terrible perplexity. He felt it but too clearly. The + decision he must form now would decide his fate. Suddenly he raised his + head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “What is your advice, M. Magloire?” + </p> + <p> + The great advocate of Sauveterre frowned angrily; and said, in a somewhat + rough tone of voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I have had the honor to place before your mother all that my young + colleague has just told you. M. Folgat has but one fault,—he is too + cautious. The physician must not ask what his patient thinks of his + remedies: he must prescribe them. It may be that our prescriptions do not + meet with success; but, if you do not follow them, you are most assuredly + lost.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques hesitated for some minutes longer. These prescriptions, as M. + Magloire called them, were painfully repugnant to his chivalrous and open + character. + </p> + <p> + “Would it be worth while,” he murmured, “to be acquitted on such terms? + Would I really be exculpated by such proceedings? Would not my whole life + thereafter be disgraced by suspicions? I should not come out from the + trial with a clear acquittal: I should have escaped by a mere chance.” + </p> + <p> + “That would still better than to go, by a clear judgment, to the galleys,” + said M. Magloire brutally. + </p> + <p> + This word, “the galleys,” made Jacques bound. He rose, walked up and down + a few times in his room, and then, placing himself in front of his + counsel, said,— + </p> + <p> + “I put myself in your hands, gentlemen. Tell me what I must do.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques had at least this merit, if he once formed a resolution, he was + sure to adhere to it. Calm now, and self-possessed, he sat down, and said, + with a melancholy smile,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear the plan of battle.” + </p> + <p> + This plan had been for a month now the one great thought of M. Folgat. All + his intelligence, all his sagacity and knowledge of the world, had been + brought to bear upon this case, which he had made his own, so to say, by + his almost passionate interest. He knew the tactics of the prosecution as + well as M. Galpin himself, and he knew its weak and its strong side even + better than M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + “We shall go on, therefore,” he began, “as if there was no such person as + the Countess Claudieuse. We know nothing of her. We shall say nothing of + the meeting at Valpinson, nor of the burned letters.” + </p> + <p> + “That is settled.” + </p> + <p> + “That being so, we must next look, not for the manner in which we spent + our time, but for our purpose in going out the evening of the crime. Ah! + If we could suggest a plausible, a very probable purpose, I should almost + guarantee our success; for we need not hesitate to say there is the + turning-point of the whole case, on which all the discussions will turn.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques did not seem to be fully convinced of this view. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “You think that possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, it is but too certain; and, if I say unfortunately, it is + because here we have to meet a terrible charge, the most decisive, by all + means, that has been raised, one on which M. Galpin has not insisted (he + is much too clever for that), but one which, in the hands of the + prosecution, may become a terrible weapon.” + </p> + <p> + “I must confess,” said Jacques, “I do not very well see”— + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten the letter you wrote to Miss Dionysia the evening of + the crime?” broke in M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + Jacques looked first at one, and then at the other of his counsel. + </p> + <p> + “What,” he said, “that letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Overwhelms us, my dear client,” said M. Folgat. “Don’t you remember it? + You told your betrothed in that note, that you would be prevented from + enjoying the evening with her by some business of the greatest importance, + and which could not be delayed? Thus, you see, you had determined + beforehand, and after mature consideration, to spend that evening in doing + a certain thing. What was it? ‘The murder of Count Claudieuse,’ says the + prosecution. What can we say?” + </p> + <p> + “But, I beg your pardon—that letter. Miss Dionysia surely has not + handed it over to them?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but the prosecution is aware of its existence. M. de Chandore and M. + Seneschal have spoken of it in the hope of exculpating you, and have even + mentioned the contents. And M. Galpin knows it so well, that he had + repeatedly mentioned it to you, and you have confessed all that he could + desire.” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate looked among his papers; and soon he had found what he + wanted. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, “in your third examination, I find this,—” + </p> + <p> + “‘QUESTION.—You were shortly to marry Miss Chandore? + </p> + <p> + ANSWER.—Yes. + </p> + <p> + Q—For some time you had been spending your evenings with her? + </p> + <p> + A.—Yes, all. + </p> + <p> + Q.—Except the one of the crime? + </p> + <p> + A.—Unfortunately. + </p> + <p> + Q.—Then your betrothed must have wondered at your absence? + </p> + <p> + A.—No: I had written to her.’” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear, Jacques?” cried M. Magloire. “Notice that M. Galpin takes + care not to insist. He does not wish to rouse your suspicions. He has got + you to confess, and that is enough for him.” + </p> + <p> + But, in the meantime, M. Folgat had found another paper. + </p> + <p> + “In your sixth examination,” he went on, “I have noticed this,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Q.—You left your house with your gun on your shoulder, without any + definite aim? + </p> + <p> + A.—I shall explain that when I have consulted with counsel. + </p> + <p> + Q.—You need no consultation to tell the truth. + </p> + <p> + A.—I shall not change my resolution. + </p> + <p> + Q.—Then you will not tell me where you were between eight and + midnight? + </p> + <p> + A.—I shall answer that question at the same time with the other. + </p> + <p> + Q.—You must have had very strong reasons to keep you out, as you + were expected by your betrothed, Miss Chandore? + </p> + <p> + A.—I had written to her not to expect me.’” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! M. Galpin is a clever fellow,” growled M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + “Finally,” said M. Folgat, “here is a passage from your last but one + examination,— + </p> + <p> + “‘Q.—When you wanted to send anybody to Sauveterre, whom did you + usually employ? + </p> + <p> + A.—The son of one of my tenants, Michael. + </p> + <p> + Q.—It was he, I suppose, who, on the evening of the crime, carried + the letter to Miss Chandore, in which you told her not to expect you? + </p> + <p> + A.—Yes. + </p> + <p> + Q.—You pretended you would be kept by some important business? + </p> + <p> + A.—That is the usual pretext. + </p> + <p> + Q.—But in your case it was no pretext. Where had you to go? and + where did you go? + </p> + <p> + A.—As long as I have not seen counsel I shall say nothing. + </p> + <p> + Q.—Have a care: the system of negation and concealment is dangerous. + </p> + <p> + A.—I know it, and I accept the consequences.’” + </p> + <p> + Jacques was dumfounded. And necessarily every accused person is equally + surprised when he hears what he has stated in the examination. There is + not one who does not exclaim,— + </p> + <p> + “What, I said that? Never!” + </p> + <p> + He has said it, and there is no denying it; for there it is written, and + signed by himself. How could he ever say so? + </p> + <p> + Ah! that is the point. However clever a man may be, he cannot for many + months keep all his faculties on the stretch, and all his energy up to its + full power. He has his hours of prostration and his hours of hope, his + attacks of despair and his moments of courage; and the impassive + magistrate takes advantage of them all. Innocent or guilty, no prisoner + can cope with him. However powerful his memory may be, how can he recall + an answer which he may have given weeks and weeks before? The magistrate, + however, remembers it; and twenty times, if need be, he brings it up + again. And as the small snowflake may become an irresistible avalanche, so + an insignificant word, uttered at haphazard, forgotten, then recalled, + commented upon, and enlarged may become crushing evidence. + </p> + <p> + Jacques now experienced this. These questions had been put to him so + skilfully, and at such long intervals of time, that he had totally + forgotten them; and yet now, when he recalled his answers, he had to + acknowledge that he had confessed his purpose to devote that evening to + some business of great importance. + </p> + <p> + “That is fearful!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + And, overcome by the terrible reality of M. Folgat’s apprehension, he + added,— + </p> + <p> + “How can we get out of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” replied M. Folgat, “we must find some plausible + explanation.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure I am incapable of that.” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer seemed to reflect a moment, and then he said,— + </p> + <p> + “You have been a prisoner while I have been free. For a month now I have + thought this matter over.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” + </p> + <p> + “Where was your wedding to be?” + </p> + <p> + “At my house at Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was the religious ceremony to take place?” + </p> + <p> + “At the church at Brechy.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever spoken of that to the priest?” + </p> + <p> + “Several times. One day especially, when we discussed it in a pleasant + way, he said jestingly to me, ‘I shall have you, after all in my + confessional.’” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat almost trembled with satisfaction, and Jacques saw it. + </p> + <p> + “Then the priest at Brechy was your friend?” + </p> + <p> + “An intimate friend. He sometimes came to dine with me quite + unceremoniously, and I never passed him without shaking hands with him.” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer’s joy was growing perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “my explanation is becoming quite plausible. Just hear + what I have positively ascertained to be the fact. In the time from nine + to eleven o’clock, on the night of the crime, there was not a soul at the + parsonage in Brechy. The priest was dining with M. Besson, at his house; + and his servant had gone out to meet him with a lantern.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you not have gone to see the priest at Brechy, my dear client? + In the first place, you had to arrange the details of the ceremony with + him; then, as he is your friend, and a man of experience, and a priest, + you wanted to ask him for his advice before taking so grave a step, and, + finally, you intended to fulfil that religious duty of which he spoke, and + which you were rather reluctant to comply with.” + </p> + <p> + “Well said!” approved the eminent lawyer of Sauveterre,—“very well + said!” + </p> + <p> + “So, you see, my dear client, it was for the purpose of consulting the + priest at Brechy that you deprived yourself of the pleasure of spending + the evening with your betrothed. Now let us see how that answers the + allegations of the prosecution. They ask you why you took to the marshes. + Why? Because it was the shortest way, and you were afraid of finding the + priest in bed. Nothing more natural; for it is well known that the + excellent man is in the habit of going to bed at nine o’clock. Still you + had put yourself out in vain; for, when you knocked at the door of the + parsonage, nobody came to open.” + </p> + <p> + Here M. Magloire interrupted his colleague, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “So far, all is very well. But now there comes a very great improbability. + No one would think of going through the forest of Rochepommier in order to + return from Brechy to Boiscoran. If you knew the country”— + </p> + <p> + “I know it; for I have carefully explored it. And the proof of it is, + that, having foreseen the objection, I have found an answer. While M. de + Boiscoran knocked at the door, a little peasant-girl passed by, and told + him that she had just met the priest at a place called the Marshalls’ + Cross-roads. As the parsonage stands quite isolated, at the end of the + village, such an incident is very probable. As for the priest, chance led + me to learn this: precisely at the hour at which M. de Boiscoran would + have been at Brechy, a priest passed the Marshalls’ Cross-roads; and this + priest, whom I have seen, belongs to the next parish. He also dined at M. + Besson’s, and had just been sent for to attend a dying woman. The little + girl, therefore, did not tell a story; she only made a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” said M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” continued M. Folgat, “after this information, what did M. de + Boiscoran do? He went on; and, hoping every moment to meet the priest, he + walked as far as the forest of Rochepommier. Finding, at last, that the + peasant-girl had—purposely or not—led him astray, he + determined to return to Boiscoran through the woods. But he was in very + bad humor at having thus lost an evening which he might have spent with + his betrothed; and this made him swear and curse, as the witness Gaudry + has testified.” + </p> + <p> + The famous lawyer of Sauveterre shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “That is ingenious, I admit; and I confess, in all humility, that I could + not have suggested any thing as good. But—for there is a but—your + story sins by its very simplicity. The prosecution will say, ‘If that is + the truth, why did not M. de Boiscoran say so at once? And what need was + there to consult his counsel?’” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat showed in his face that he was making a great effort to meet the + objection. After a while, he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I know but too well that that is the weak spot in our armor,—a very + weak spot, too; for it is quite clear, that, if M. de Boiscoran had given + this explanation on the day of his arrest, he would have been released + instantly. But what better can be found? What else can be found? However, + this is only a rough sketch of my plan, and I have never put it into words + yet till now. With your assistance, M. Magloire, with the aid of Mechinet, + to whom I am already indebted for very valuable information, with the aid + of all our friends, in fine, I cannot help hoping that I may be able to + improve my plan by adding some mysterious secret which may help to explain + M. de Boiscoran’s reticence. I thought, at one time, of calling in + politics, and to pretend, that, on account of the peculiar views of which + he is suspected, M. de Boiscoran preferred keeping his relations with the + priest at Brechy a secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that would have been most unfortunate!” broke in M. Magloire. “We are + not only religious at Sauveterre, we are devout, my good colleague,—excessively + devout.” + </p> + <p> + “And I have given up that idea.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques, who had till now kept silent and motionless, now raised himself + suddenly to his full height, and cried, in a voice of concentrated rage,— + </p> + <p> + “Is it not too bad, is it not atrocious, that we should be compelled to + concoct a falsehood? And I am innocent! What more could be done if I were + a murderer?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques was perfectly right: it was monstrous that he should be absolutely + forced to conceal the truth. But his counsel took no notice of his + indignation: they were too deeply absorbed in examining minutely their + system of defence. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on to the other points of the accusation,” said M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + “If my version is accepted,” replied M. Folgat, “the rest follows as a + matter of course. But will they accept it? On the day on which he was + arrested, M. de Boiscoran, trying to find an excuse for having been out + that night, has said that he had gone to see his wood-merchant at Brechy. + That was a disastrous imprudence. And here is the real danger. As to the + rest, that amounts to nothing. There is the water in which M. de Boiscoran + washed his hands when he came home, and in which they have found traces of + burnt paper. We have only to modify the facts very slightly to explain + that. We have only to state that M. de Boiscoran is a passionate smoker: + that is well known. He had taken with him a goodly supply of cigarettes + when he set out for Brechy; but he had taken no matches. And that is a + fact. We can furnish proof, we can produce witnesses, we had no matches; + for we had forgotten our match-box, the day before, at M. de Chandore’s,—the + box which we always carry about on our person, which everybody knows, and + which is still lying on the mantelpiece in Miss Dionysia’s little boudoir. + Well, having no matches, we found that we could go no farther without a + smoke. We had gone quite far already; and the question was, Shall we go on + without smoking, or return? No need of either! There was our gun; and we + knew very well what sportsmen do under such circumstances. We took the + shot out of one of our cartridges, and, in setting the powder on fire, we + lighted a piece of paper. This is an operation in which you cannot help + blackening your fingers. As we had to repeat it several times, our hands + were very much soiled and very black, and the nails full of little + fragments of burnt paper.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! now you are right,” exclaimed M. Magloire. “Well done!” + </p> + <p> + His young colleague became more and more animated; and always employing + the profession “we,” which his brethren affect, he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “This water, which you dwell upon so much, is the clearest evidence of our + innocence. If we had been an incendiary, we should certainly have poured + it out as hurriedly as the murderer tries to wash out the blood-stains on + his clothes, which betray him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said M. Magloire again approvingly. + </p> + <p> + “And your other charges,” continued M. Folgat, as if he were standing in + court, and addressing the jury,—“your other charges have all the + same weight. Our letter to Miss Dionysia—why do you refer to that? + Because, you say, it proves our premeditation. Ah! there I hold you. Are + we really so stupid and bereft of common sense? That is not our + reputation. What! we premeditate a crime, and we do not say to ourselves + that we shall certainly be convicted unless we prepare an <i>alibi</i>! + What! we leave home with the fixed purpose of killing a man, and we load + our gun with small-shot! Really, you make the defence too easy; for your + charges do not stand being examined.” + </p> + <p> + It was Jacques’s turn, this time, to testify his approbation. + </p> + <p> + “That is,” he said, “what I have told Galpin over and over again; and he + never had any thing to say in reply. We must insist on that point.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was consulting his notes. + </p> + <p> + “I now come to a very important circumstance, and one which I should, at + the trial, make a decisive question, if it should be favorable to our + side. Your valet, my dear client,—your old Anthony,—told me + that he had cleaned and washed your breech-loader the night before the + crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” exclaimed Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I see you appreciate the importance of the fact. Between that + cleaning and the time when you set a cartridge on fire, in order to burn + the letters of the Countess Claudieuse, did you fire your gun? If you did, + we must say nothing more about it. If you did not, one of the barrels of + the breech-loader must be clean, and then you are safe.” + </p> + <p> + For more than a minute, Jacques remained silent, trying to recall the + facts; at last he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, I am sure, I fired at a rabbit on the morning of the + fatal day.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire looked disappointed. + </p> + <p> + “Fate again!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wait!” cried Jacques. “I am quite sure, at all events, that I killed + that rabbit at the first shot. Consequently, I can have fouled only one + barrel of the gun. If I have used the same barrel at Valpinson, to get a + light, I am safe. With a double gun, one almost instinctively first uses + the right-hand barrel.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire’s face grew darker. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” he said, “we cannot possibly make an argument upon such an + uncertain chance,—a chance which, in case of error, would almost + fatally turn against us. But at the trial, when they show you the gun, + examine it, so that you can tell me how that matter stands.” + </p> + <p> + Thus they had sketched the outlines of their plan of defence. There + remained nothing now but to perfect the details; and to this task the two + lawyers were devoting themselves still, when Blangin, the jailer, called + to them through the wicket, that the doors of the prison were about to be + closed. + </p> + <p> + “Five minutes more, my good Blangin!” cried Jacques. + </p> + <p> + And drawing his two friends aside, as far from the wicket as he could, he + said to them in a low and distressed voice,— + </p> + <p> + “A thought has occurred to me, gentlemen, which I think I ought to mention + to you. It cannot be but that the Countess Claudieuse must be suffering + terribly since I am in prison. However, sure she may be of having left no + trace behind her that could betray her, she must tremble at the idea that + I may, after all, tell the truth in self-defence. She would deny, I know, + and she is so sure of her prestige, that she knows my accusation would not + injure her marvellous reputation. Nevertheless, she cannot but shrink from + the scandal. Who knows if she might not give us the means to escape from + the trial, to avoid such exposure? Why might not one of you gentleman make + the attempt?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was a man of quick resolution. + </p> + <p> + “I will try, if you will give me a line of introduction.” + </p> + <p> + Jacque immediately sat down, and wrote,— + </p> + <p> + “I have told my counsel, M. Folgat, every thing. Save me, and I swear to + you eternal silence. Will you let me perish, Genevieve, when you know I am + innocent? + </p> + <p> + “JACQUES.” “Is that enough?” he asked, handing the lawyer the note. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and I promise you I will see the Countess Claudieuse within the next + forty-eight hours.” + </p> + <p> + Blangin was becoming impatient; and the two advocates had to leave the + prison. As they crossed the New-Market Square, they noticed, not far from + them, a wandering musician, who was followed by a number of boys and + girls. + </p> + <p> + It was a kind of minstrel, dressed in a sort of garment which was no + longer an overcoat and had not yet assumed the shape of a shortcoat. He + was strumming on a wretched fiddle; but his voice was good, and the ballad + he sang had the full flavor of the local accent:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “In the spring, mother Redbreast + Made her nest in the bushes, + The good lady! + Made her nest in the bushes, + The good lady!” + </pre> + <p> + Instinctively M. Folgat was fumbling in his pocket for a few cents, when + the musician came up to him, held out his hat as if to ask alms, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “You do not recognize me?” + </p> + <p> + The advocate started. + </p> + <p> + “You here!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I myself. I came this morning. I was watching for you; for I must + see you this evening at nine o’clock. Come and open the little garden-gate + at M. de Chandore’s for me.” + </p> + <p> + And, taking up his fiddle again, he wandered off listlessly, singing with + his clear voice,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And a few, a few weeks later, + She had a wee, a wee bit birdy.” + </pre> + <p> + XXIV. + </p> + <p> + The great lawyer of Sauveterre had been far more astonished at the + unexpected and extraordinary meeting than M. Folgat. As soon as the + wandering minstrel had left them, he asked his young colleague,— + </p> + <p> + “You know that individual?” + </p> + <p> + “That individual,” replied M. Folgat, “is none other than the agent whose + services I have engaged, and whom I mentioned to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Goudar?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Goudar.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you not recognize him?” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Not until he spoke,” he replied. “The Goudar whom I know is tall, thin, + beardless, and wears his hair cut like a brush. This street-musician is + low, bearded, and has long, smooth hair falling down his back. How could I + recognize my man in that vagabond costume, with a violin in his hand, and + a provincial song set to music?” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire smiled too, as he said,— + </p> + <p> + “What are, after all, professional actors in comparison with these men! + Here is one who pretends having reached Sauveterre only this morning, and + who knows the country as well as Trumence himself. He has not been here + twelve hours, and he speaks already of M. de Chandore’s little + garden-gate.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I can explain that circumstance now, although, at first, it surprised + me very much. When I told Goudar the whole story, I no doubt mentioned the + little gate in connection with Mechinet.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst they were chatting thus, they had reached the upper end of National + Street. Here they stopped; and M. Magloire said,— + </p> + <p> + “One word before we part. Are you quite resolved to see the Countess + Claudieuse?” + </p> + <p> + “I have promised.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you propose telling her?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. That depends upon how she receives me.” + </p> + <p> + “As far as I know her, she will, upon looking at the note, merely order + you out.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows! At all events, I shall not have to reproach myself for having + shrunk from a step which in my heart I thought it my duty to take.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever may happen, be prudent, and do not allow yourself to get angry. + Remember that a scene with her would compel us to change our whole line of + defence, and that that is the only one which promises any success.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not fear!” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, shaking hands once more, they parted, M. Magloire returning to + his house, and M. Folgat going up the street. It struck half-past five, + and the young advocate hurried on for fear of being too late. He found + them waiting for him to go to dinner; but, as he entered the room, he + forgot all his excuses in his painful surprise at the mournful and + dejected appearance of the prisoner’s friends and relatives. + </p> + <p> + “Have we any bad news?” he asked with a hesitating voice. + </p> + <p> + “The worst we had to fear,” replied the Marquis de Boiscoran. “We had all + foreseen it; and still, as you see, it has surprised us all, like a clap + of thunder.” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer beat his forehead, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “The court has ordered the trial!” + </p> + <p> + The marquis only bent his head, as if his voice, had failed him to answer + the question. + </p> + <p> + “It is still a great secret,” said Dionysia; “and we only know it, thanks + to the indiscretion of our kind, our devoted Mechinet. Jacques will have + to appear before the Assizes.” + </p> + <p> + She was interrupted by a servant, who entered to announce that dinner was + on the table. + </p> + <p> + They all went into the dining-room; but the last event made it well-nigh + impossible for them to eat. Dionysia alone, deriving from feverish + excitement an amazing energy, aided M. Folgat in keeping up the + conversation. From her the young advocate learned that Count Claudieuse + was decidedly worse, and that he would have received, in the day, the last + sacrament, but for the decided opposition of Dr. Seignebos, who had + declared that the slightest excitement might kill his patient. + </p> + <p> + “And if he dies,” said M. de Chandore, “that is the finishing stroke. + Public opinion, already incensed against Jacques, will become implacable.” + </p> + <p> + However, the meal came to an end; and M. Folgat went up to Dionysia, + saying,— + </p> + <p> + “I must beg of you, madam, to trust me with the key to the little + garden-gate.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him quite astonished. + </p> + <p> + “I have to see a detective secretly, who has promised me his assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he here?” + </p> + <p> + “He came this morning.” + </p> + <p> + When Dionysia had handed him the key, M. Folgat hastened to reach the end + of the garden; and, at the third stroke of nine o’clock, the minstrel of + the New-Market Square, Goudar, pushed the little gate, and, his violin + under his arm, slipped into the garden. + </p> + <p> + “A day lost!” he exclaimed, without thinking of saluting the young lawyer,—“a + whole day; for I could do nothing till I had seen you.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be so angry, that M. Folgat tried to soothe him. + </p> + <p> + “Let me first of all compliment you on your disguise,” he said. But Goudar + did not seem to be open to praise. + </p> + <p> + “What would a detective be worth if he could not disguise himself! A great + merit, forsooth! And I tell you, I hate it! But I could not think of + coming to Sauveterre in my own person, a detective. Ugh! Everybody would + have run away; and what a pack of lies they would have told me! So I had + to assume that hideous masquerade. To think that I once took six months’ + lessons from a music-teacher merely to fit myself for that character! A + wandering musician, you see, can go anywhere, and nobody is surprised; he + goes about the streets, or he travels along the high-road; he enters into + yards, and slips into houses; he asks alms: and in so doing, he accosts + everybody, speaks to them, follows them. And as to my precious dialect, + you must know I have been down here once for half a year, hunting up + counterfeiters; and, if you don’t catch a provincial accent in six months, + you don’t deserve belonging to the police. And I do belong to it, to the + great distress of my wife, and to my own disgust.” + </p> + <p> + “If your ambition is really what you say, my dear, Goudar,” said M. + Folgat, interrupting him, “you may be able to leave your profession very + soon—if you succeed in saving M. de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “He would give me his house in Vine Street?” + </p> + <p> + “With all his heart!” + </p> + <p> + The detective looked up, and repeated slowly,— + </p> + <p> + “The house in Vine Street, the paradise of this world. An immense garden, + a soil of marvellous beauty. And what an exposure! There are walls there + on which I could raise finer peaches than they have at Montreuil, and + richer Chasselas than those of Fontainebleau!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you find any thing there?” asked M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + Goudar, thus recalled to business, looked angry again. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all,” he replied. “Nor did I learn any thing from the + tradesmen. I am no further advanced than I was the first day.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hope you will have more luck here.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so; but I need your assistance to commence operations. I must see + Dr. Seignebos, and Mechinet the clerk. Ask them to meet me at the place I + shall assign in a note which I will send them.” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell them.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, if you want my <i>incognito</i> to be respected, you must get me a + permit from the mayor, for Goudar, street-musician. I keep my name, + because here nobody knows me. But I must have the permit this evening. + Wherever I might present myself, asking for a bed, they would call for my + papers.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait here for a quarter of an hour, there is a bench,” said M. Folgat, + “and I’ll go at once to the mayor.” + </p> + <p> + A quarter of an hour later, Goudar had his permit in his pocket, and went + to take lodgings at the Red Lamb, the worst tavern in all Sauveterre. + </p> + <p> + When a painful and inevitable duty is to be performed, the true character + of a man is apt to appear in its true light. Some people postpone it as + long as they can, and delay, like those pious persons who keep the biggest + sin for the end of their confession: others, on the contrary, are in a + hurry to be relieved of their anxiety, and make an end of it as soon as + they can. M. Folgat belonged to this latter class. + </p> + <p> + Next morning he woke up at daylight, and said to himself,— + </p> + <p> + “I will call upon the Countess Claudieuse this morning.” + </p> + <p> + At eight o’clock, he left the house, dressed more carefully than usual, + and told the servant that he did not wish to be waited for if he should + not be back for breakfast. + </p> + <p> + He went first to the court-house, hoping to meet the clerk there. He was + not disappointed. The waiting-rooms were quite deserted yet; but Mechinet + was already at work in his office, writing with the feverish haste of a + man who has to pay for a piece of property that he wants to call his own. + </p> + <p> + When he saw Folgat enter, he rose, and said at once,— + </p> + <p> + “You have heard the decision of the court?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, thanks to your kindness; and I must confess it has not surprised me. + What do they think of it here?” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody expects a condemnation.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we shall see!” said the young advocate. + </p> + <p> + And, lowering his voice, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “But I came for another purpose. The agent whom I expected has come, and + he wishes to see you. He will write to you to make an appointment, and I + hope you will consent.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, with all my heart,” replied the clerk. “And God grant that he + may succeed in extricating M. de Boiscoran from his difficulties, even if + it were only to take the conceit out of my master.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! is M. Galpin so triumphant?” + </p> + <p> + “Without the slightest reserve. He sees his old friend already at the + galleys. He has received another letter of congratulation from the + attorney general, and came here yesterday, when the court had adjourned, + to read it to any one who would listen. Everybody, of course, complimented + him, except the president, who turned his back upon him, and the + commonwealth attorney, who told him in Latin that he was selling the + bear’s skin before he had killed him.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime steps were heard coming down the passages; and M. Folgat + said hurriedly,— + </p> + <p> + “One more suggestion. Goudar desires to remain unknown. Do not speak of + him to any living soul, and especially show no surprise at the costume in + which you see him.” + </p> + <p> + The noise of a door which was opened interrupted him. One of the judges + entered, who, after having bowed very civilly, asked the clerk a number of + questions about a case which was to come on the same day. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, M. Mechinet,” said the young advocate. + </p> + <p> + And his next visit was to Dr. Seignebos. When he rang the bell, a servant + came to the door, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “The doctor is gone out; but he will be back directly, and has told me to + beg you to wait for him in his study.” + </p> + <p> + Such an evidence of perfect trust was unheard of. No one was ever allowed + to remain alone in his sanctuary. It was an immense room, quite full of + most varied objects, which at a glance revealed the opinions, tastes, and + predilections of the owner. The first thing to strike the visitor as he + entered was an admirable bust of Bichat, flanked on either side by smaller + busts of Robespierre and Rousseau. A clock of the time of Louis XIV. stood + between the windows, and marked the seconds with a noise which sounded + like the rattling of old iron. One whole side was filled with books of all + kinds, unbound or bound, in a way which would have set M. Daubigeon + laughing very heartily. A huge cupboard adapted for collections of plants + bespoke a passing fancy for botany; while an electric machine recalled the + time when the doctor believed in cures by electricity. + </p> + <p> + On the table in the centre of the room vast piles of books betrayed the + doctor’s recent studies. All the authors who have spoken of insanity or + idiocy were there, from Apostolides to Tardien. M. Folgat was still + looking around when Dr. Seignebos entered, always like a bombshell, but + far more cheerful than usual. + </p> + <p> + “I knew I should find you here!” he cried still in the door. “You come to + ask me to meet Goudar.” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate started, and said, all amazed,— + </p> + <p> + “Who can have told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Goudar himself. I like that man. I am sure no one will suspect me of + having a fancy for any thing that is connected with the police. I have had + too much to do all my life with spies and that ilk. But your man might + almost reconcile me with that department.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you see him?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning at seven. He was so prodigiously tired of losing his time in + his garret at the Red Lamb, that it occurred to him to pretend illness, + and to send for me. I went, and found a kind of street-minstrel, who + seemed to me to be perfectly well. But, as soon as we were alone, he told + me all about it, asking me my opinion, and telling me his ideas. M. + Folgat, that man Goudar is very clever: I tell you so; and we understand + each other perfectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he told you what he proposes to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly so. But he has not authorized me to speak of it. Have patience; + let him go to work, wait, and you will see if old Seignebos has a keen + scent.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this with an air of sublime conceit, he took off his spectacles, + and set to work wiping them industriously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will wait,” said the young advocate. “And, since that makes an + end to my business here, I beg you will let me speak to you of another + matter. M. de Boiscoran has charged me with a message to the Countess + Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce!” + </p> + <p> + “And to try to obtain from her the means for our discharge.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you expect she will do it?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat could hardly retain an impatient gesture. + </p> + <p> + “I have accepted the mission,” he said dryly, “and I mean to carry it + out.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand, my dear sir. But you will not see the countess. The count + is very ill. She does not leave his bedside, and does not even receive her + most intimate friends.” + </p> + <p> + “And still I must see her. I must at any hazard place a note which my + client has confided to me, in her own hands. And look here, doctor, I mean + to be frank with you. It was exactly because I foresaw there would be + difficulties, that I came to you to ask your assistance in overcoming or + avoiding them.” + </p> + <p> + “To me?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you not the count’s physician?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand devils!” cried Dr. Seignebos. “You do not mince matters, you + lawyers!” + </p> + <p> + And then speaking in a lower tone, and replying apparently to his own + objections rather than to M. Folgat, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, I attend Count Claudieuse, whose illness, by the way, upsets + all my theories, and defies all my experience: but for that very reason I + can do nothing. Our profession has certain rules which cannot be infringed + upon without compromising the whole medical profession.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is a question of life and death with Jacques, sir, with a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “And a fellow Republican, to be sure. But I cannot help you without + abusing the confidence of the Countess Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir! Has not that woman committed a crime for which M. de Boiscoran, + though innocent, will be arraigned in court?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so; but still”— + </p> + <p> + He reflected a moment, and then suddenly snatched up his broad-brimmed + hat, drew it over his head, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “In fact, so much the worse for her! There are sacred interests which + override every thing. Come!” + </p> + <p> + XXV. + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse and his wife had installed themselves, the day after the + fire, in Mautrec Street. The house which the mayor had taken for them had + been for more than a century in the possession of the great Julias family, + and is still considered one of the finest and most magnificent mansions in + Sauveterre. + </p> + <p> + In less than ten minutes Dr. Seignebos and M. Folgat had reached the + house. From the street, nothing was visible but a tall wall, as old as the + castle, according to the claims of archaeologists, and covered all over + with a mass of wild flowers. In this wall there is a huge entrance-gate + with folding-doors. During the day one-half is opened, and a light, low + open-work railing put in, which rings a bell as soon as it is pushed open. + </p> + <p> + You then cross a large garden, in which a dozen statues, covered with + green moss, are falling to pieces on their pedestals, overshadowed by + magnificent old linden-trees. The house has only two stories. A large hall + extends from end to end of the lower story; and at the end a wide + staircase with stone steps and a superb iron railing leads up stairs. When + they entered the hall, Dr. Seignebos opened a door on the right hand. + </p> + <p> + “Step in here and wait,” he said to M. Folgat. “I will go up stairs and + see the count, whose room is in the second story, and I will send you the + countess.” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate did as he was bid, and found himself in a large room, + brilliantly lighted up by three tall windows that went down to the ground, + and looked out upon the garden. This room must have been superb formerly. + The walls were wainscoted with arabesques and lines in gold. The ceiling + was painted, and represented a number of fat little angels sporting in a + sky full of golden stars. + </p> + <p> + But time had passed its destroying hand over all this splendor of the past + age, had half effaced the paintings, tarnished the gold of the arabesques, + and faded the blue of the ceiling and the rosy little loves. Nor was the + furniture calculated to make compensation for this decay. The windows had + no curtains. On the mantelpiece stood a worn-out clock and half-broken + candelabra; then, here and there, pieces of furniture that would not + match, such as had been rescued from the fire at Valpinson,—chairs, + sofas, arm-chairs, and a round table, all battered and blackened by the + flames. + </p> + <p> + But M. Folgat paid little attention to these details. He only thought of + the grave step on which he was venturing, and which he now only looked at + in its full strangeness and extreme boldness. Perhaps he would have fled + at the last moment if he could have done so; and he was only able by a + supreme effort to control his excitement. + </p> + <p> + At last he heard a rapid, light step in the hall; and almost immediately + the Countess Claudieuse appeared. He recognized her at once, such as + Jacques had described her to him, calm, serious, and serene, as if her + soul were soaring high above all human passions. Far from diminishing her + exquisite beauty, the terrible events of the last months had only + surrounded her, as it were, with a divine halo. She had fallen off a + little, however. And the dark semicircle under her eyes, and the disorder + of her hair, betrayed the fatigue and the anxiety of the long nights which + she had spent by her husband’s bedside. + </p> + <p> + As M. Folgat was bowing, she asked,— + </p> + <p> + “You are M. de Boiscoran’s counsel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam,” replied the young advocate. + </p> + <p> + “The doctor tells me you wish to speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madam.” + </p> + <p> + With a queenly air, she pointed to a chair, and, sitting down herself, she + said,— + </p> + <p> + “I hear, sir.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat began with beating heart, but a firm voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I ought, first of all, madam, to state to you my client’s true position.” + </p> + <p> + “That is useless, sir. I know.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, madam, that he has been summoned to trial, and that he may be + condemned?” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head with a painful movement, and said very softly,— + </p> + <p> + “I know, sir, that Count Claudieuse has been the victim of a most infamous + attempt at murder; that he is still in danger, and that, unless God works + a miracle, I shall soon be without a husband, and my children without a + father.” + </p> + <p> + “But M. de Boiscoran is innocent, madam.” + </p> + <p> + The features of the countess assumed an expression of profound surprise; + and, looking fixedly at M. Folgat, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “And who, then, is the murderer?” + </p> + <p> + Ah! It cost the young advocate no small effort to prevent his lips from + uttering the fatal word, “You,” prompted by his indignant conscience. But + he thought of the success of his mission; and, instead of replying, he + said,— + </p> + <p> + “To a prisoner, madam, to an unfortunate man on the eve of judgment, an + advocate is a confessor, to whom he tells every thing. I must add that the + counsel of the accused is like a priest: he must forget the secrets which + have been confided to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “My client, madam, had a very simple means to prove his innocence. He had + only to tell the truth. He has preferred risking his own honor rather than + to betray the honor of another person.” + </p> + <p> + The countess looked impatient, and broke in, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “My moments are counted, sir. May I beg you will be more explicit?” + </p> + <p> + But M. Folgat had gone as far as he well could go. + </p> + <p> + “I am desired by M. de Boiscoran, madam, to hand you a letter.” + </p> + <p> + The Countess Claudieuse seemed to be overwhelmed with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “To me?” she said. “On what ground?” + </p> + <p> + Without saying a word, M. Folgat drew Jacques’s letter from his portfolio, + and handed it to her. + </p> + <p> + “Here it is!” he said. + </p> + <p> + She took it with a perfectly steady hand, and opened it slowly. But, as + soon as she had run her eye over it, she rose, turned crimson in her face, + and said with flaming eyes,— + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, sir, what this letter contains?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that M. de Boiscoran dares call me by my first name, + Genevieve, as my husband does, and my father?” + </p> + <p> + The decisive moment had come, and M. Folgat had all his self-possession. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Boiscoran, madame, claims that he used to call you so in former + days,—in Vine Street,—in days when you called him Jacques.” + </p> + <p> + The countess seemed to be utterly bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “But that is sheer infamy, sir,” she stammered. “What! M. de Boiscoran + should have dared tell you that I, the countess Claudieuse, have been his—mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “He certainly said so, madam; and he affirms, that a few moments before + the fire broke out, he was near you, and that, if his hands were + blackened, it was because he had burned your letters and his.” + </p> + <p> + She rose at these words, and said in a penetrating voice,— + </p> + <p> + “And you could believe that,—you? Ah! M. de Boiscoran’s other crimes + are nothing in comparison with this! He is not satisfied with having burnt + our house, and ruined us: he means to dishonor us. He is not satisfied + with having murdered my husband: he must ruin the honor of his wife also.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke so loud, that her voice must have been distinctly heard in the + vestibule. + </p> + <p> + “Lower, madam, I pray you speak lower,” said M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + She cast upon him a crushing glance; and, raising her voice still higher, + she went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand very well that you are afraid of being heard. But I—what + have I to fear? I could wish the whole world to hear us, and to judge + between us. Lower, you say? Why should I speak less loud? Do you think + that if Count Claudieuse were not on his death-bed, this letter would not + have long since been in his hands? Ah, he would soon have satisfaction for + such an infamous letter, he! But I, a poor woman! I have never seen so + clearly that the world thinks my husband is lost already, and that I am + alone in this world, without a protector, without friends.” + </p> + <p> + “But, madam, M. de Boiscoran pledges himself to the most perfect secrecy.” + </p> + <p> + “Secrecy in what? In your cowardly insults, your abominable plots, of + which this, no doubt, is but a beginning?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat turned livid under this insult. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, take care, madam,” he said in a hoarse voice: “we have proof, + absolute, overwhelming proof.” + </p> + <p> + The countess stopped him by an imperious gesture, and with the haughtiest + disdain, grief, and wrath, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, produce your proof. Go, hasten, act as you like. We shall see + if the vile calumnies of an incendiary can stain the pure reputation of an + honest woman. We shall see if a single speck of this mud in which you + wallow can reach up to me.” + </p> + <p> + And, throwing Jacques’s letter at M. Folgat’s feet, she went to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” said M. Folgat once more,—“madam!” + </p> + <p> + She did not even condescend to turn round: she disappeared, leaving him + standing in the middle of the room, so overcome with amazement, that he + could not collect his thoughts. Fortunately Dr. Seignebos came in. + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word!” he said, “I never thought the countess would take my + treachery so coolly. When she came out from you just now, she asked me, in + the same tone as every day, how I had found her husband, and what was to + be done. I told her”— + </p> + <p> + But the rest of the sentence remained unspoken: the doctor had become + aware of M. Folgat’s utter consternation. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what on earth is the matter?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The young advocate looked at him with an utterly bewildered air. + </p> + <p> + “This is the matter: I ask myself whether I am awake or dreaming. This is + the matter: that, if this woman is guilty, she possesses an audacity + beyond all belief.” + </p> + <p> + “How, if? Have you changed your mind about her guilt?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat looked altogether disheartened. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said, “I hardly know myself. Do you not see that I have lost my + head, that I do not know what to think, and what to believe?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed! And yet, doctor, I am not a simpleton. I have now been + pleading five years in criminal courts: I have had to dive down into the + lowest depths of society; I have seen strange things, and met with + exceptional specimens, and heard fabulous stories”— + </p> + <p> + It was the doctor’s turn, now, to be amazed; and he actually forgot to + trouble his gold spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Why? What did the countess say?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I might tell you every word,” replied M. Folgat, “and you would be none + the wiser. You ought to have been here, and seen her, and heard her! What + a woman! Not a muscle in her face was moving; her eye remained limpid and + clear; no emotion was felt in her voice. And with what an air she defied + me! But come, doctor, let us be gone!” + </p> + <p> + They went out, and had already gone about a third down the long avenue in + the garden, when they saw the oldest daughter of the countess coming + towards them, on her way to the house, accompanied by her governess. Dr. + Seignebos stopped, and pressing the arm of the young advocate, and bending + over to him, he whispered into his ear,— + </p> + <p> + “Mind!” he said. “You know the truth is in the lips of children.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect?” murmured M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “To settle a doubtful point. Hush! Let me manage it.” + </p> + <p> + By this time the little girl had come up to them. It was a very graceful + girl of eight or nine years, light haired, with large blue eyes, tall for + her age, and displaying all the intelligence of a young girl, without her + timidity. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, little Martha?” said the doctor to her in his gentlest + voice, which was very soft when he chose. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, gentlemen!” she replied with a nice little courtesy. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos bent down to kiss her rosy cheeks, and them, looking at her, + he said,— + </p> + <p> + “You look sad, Martha?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because papa and little sister are sick,” she replied with a deep + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “And also because you miss Valpinson?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Still it is very pretty here, and you have a large garden to play in.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, and, lowering her voice, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly very pretty here; but—I am afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “And of what, little one?” + </p> + <p> + She pointed to the statues, and all shuddering, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “In the evening, when it grows dark, I fancy they are moving. I think I + see people hiding behind the trees, like the man who wanted to kill papa.” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to drive away those ugly notions, Miss Martha,” said M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + But Dr. Seignebos did not allow him to go on. + </p> + <p> + “What, Martha? I did not know you were so timid. I thought, on the + contrary, you were very brave. Your papa told me the night of the fire you + were not afraid of any thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa was right.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, when you were aroused by the flames, it must have been + terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it was not the flames which waked me, doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “Still the fire had broken out.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not asleep at that time, doctor. I had been roused by the slamming + of the door, which mamma had closed very noisily when she came in.” + </p> + <p> + One and the same presentiment made M. Folgat tremble and the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “You must be mistaken, Martha,” the doctor went on. “Your mamma had not + come back at the time of the fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “No, you are mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + The little girl drew herself up with that solemn air which children are + apt to assume when their statements are doubted. She said,— + </p> + <p> + “I am quite sure of what I say, and I remember every thing perfectly. I + had been put to bed at the usual hour, and, as I was very tired with + playing, I had fallen asleep at once. While I was asleep, mamma had gone + out; but her coming back waked me up. As soon as she came in, she bent + over little sister’s bed, and looked at her for a moment so sadly, that I + thought I should cry. Then she went, and sat down by the window; and from + my bed, where I lay silently watching her, I saw the tears running down + her cheeks, when all of a sudden a shot was fired.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat and Dr. Seignebos looked anxiously at each other. + </p> + <p> + “Then, my little one,” insisted Dr. Seignebos, “you are quite sure your + mamma was in your room when the first shot was fired?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, doctor. And mamma, when she heard it, rose up straight, and + lowered her head, like one who listens. Almost immediately, the second + shot was fired. Mamma raised her hands to heaven, and cried out, ‘Great + God!’ And then she went out, running fast.” + </p> + <p> + Never was a smile more false than that which Dr. Seignebos forced himself + to retain on his lips while the little girl was telling her story. + </p> + <p> + “You have dreamed all that, Martha,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The governess here interposed, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “The young lady has not dreamed it, sir. I, also, heard the shots fired; + and I had just opened the door of my room to hear what was going on, when + I saw madame cross the landing swiftly, and rush down stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I do not doubt it,” said the doctor, in the most indifferent tone he + could command: “the circumstance is very trifling.” + </p> + <p> + But the little girl was bent on finishing her story. + </p> + <p> + “When mamma had left,” she went on, “I became frightened, and raised + myself on my bed to listen. Soon I heard a noise which I did not know,—cracking + and snapping of wood, and then cries at a distance. I got more frightened, + jumped down, and ran to open the door. But I nearly fell down, there was + such a cloud of smoke and sparks. Still I did not lose my head. I waked my + little sister, and tried to get on the staircase, when Cocoleu rushed in + like a madman, and took us both out.” + </p> + <p> + “Martha,” called a voice from the house, “Martha!” + </p> + <p> + The child cut short her story, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Mamma is calling me.” + </p> + <p> + And, dropping again her nice little courtesy, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + Martha had disappeared; and Dr. Seignebos and M. Folgat, still standing on + the same spot, looked at each other in utter distress. + </p> + <p> + “We have nothing more to do here,” said M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed! Let us go back and make haste; for perhaps they are waiting + for me. You must breakfast with me.” + </p> + <p> + They went away very much disheartened, and so absorbed in their defeat, + that they forgot to return the salutations with which they were greeted in + the street,—a circumstance carefully noticed by several watchful + observers. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor reached home, he said to his servant,— + </p> + <p> + “This gentleman will breakfast with me. Give us a bottle of medis.” + </p> + <p> + And, when he had shown the advocate into his study, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “And now what do you think of your adventure?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat looked completely undone. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot understand it,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Could it be possible that the countess should have tutored the child to + say what she told us?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And her governess?” + </p> + <p> + “Still less. A woman of that character trusts nobody. She struggles; she + triumphs or succumbs alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the child and the governess have told us the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “I am convinced of that.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I. Then she had no share in the murder of her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat did not notice that his “Alas!” was received by Dr. Seignebos + with an air of triumph. He had taken off his spectacles, and, wiping them + vigorously, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “If the countess is innocent, Jacques must be guilty, you think? Jacques + must have deceived us all, then?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I pray you, doctor, do not press me just now. Give me time to collect my + thoughts. I am bewildered by all these conjectures. No, I am sure M. de + Boiscoran has not told a falsehood, and the countess has been his + mistress. No, he has not deceived us; and on the night of the crime he + really had an interview with the countess. Did not Martha tell us that her + mother had gone out? And where could she have gone, except to meet M. de + Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, come!” said the physician, “you need not be afraid of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it might possibly be, that, after the countess had left M. de + Boiscoran, Fate might have stepped in. Jacques has told us how the letters + which he was burning had suddenly blazed up, and with such violence that + he was frightened. Who can tell whether some burning fragments may not + have set a straw-rick on fire? You can judge yourself. On the point of + leaving the place, M. de Boiscoran sees this beginning of a fire. He + hastens to put it out. His efforts are unsuccessful. The fire increases + step by step: it lights up the whole front of the chateau. At that moment + Count Claudieuse comes out. Jacques thinks he has been watched and + detected; he sees his marriage broken off, his life ruined, his happiness + destroyed; he loses his head, aims, fires, and flees instantly. And thus + you explain his missing the count, and also this fact which seemed to + preclude the idea of premeditated murder, that the gun was loaded with + small-shot.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” cried the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “What, what have I said?” + </p> + <p> + “Take care never to repeat that! The suggestion you make is so fearfully + plausible, that, if it becomes known, no one will ever believe you when + you tell the real truth.” + </p> + <p> + “The truth? Then you think I am mistaken?” + </p> + <p> + “Most assuredly.” + </p> + <p> + Then fixing his spectacles on his nose, Dr. Seignebos added,— + </p> + <p> + “I never could admit that the countess should have fired at her husband. I + now see that I was right. She has not committed the crime directly; but + she has done it indirectly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “She would not be the first woman who has done so. What I imagine is this: + the countess had made up her mind, and arranged her plan, before meeting + Jacques. The murderer was already at his post. If she had succeeded in + winning Jacques back, her accomplice would have put away his gun, and + quietly gone to bed. As she could not induce Jacques to give up his + marriage, she made a sign, and the fire was lighted, and the count was + shot.” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate did not seem to be fully convinced. + </p> + <p> + “In that case, there would have been premeditation,” he objected; “and + how, then, came the gun to be loaded with small-shot?” + </p> + <p> + “The accomplice had not sense enough to know better.” + </p> + <p> + Although he saw very well the doctor’s drift, M. Folgat started up,— + </p> + <p> + “What?” he said, “always Cocoleu?” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos tapped his forehead with the end of his finger, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “When an idea has once made its way in there, it remains fixed. Yes, the + countess has an accomplice; and that accomplice is Cocoleu; and, if he has + no sense, you see the wretched idiot at least carries his devotion and his + discretion very far.” + </p> + <p> + “If what you say is true, doctor, we shall never get the key of this + affair; for Cocoleu will never confess.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t swear to that. There is a way.” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by the sudden entrance of his servant. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the latter, “there is a gendarme below who brings you a man + who has to be sent to the hospital at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Show them up,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “And, while the servant was gone to do his bidding, the doctor said,— + </p> + <p> + “And here is the way. Now mind!” + </p> + <p> + A heavy step was heard shaking the stairs; and almost immediately a + gendarme appeared, who in one hand held a violin, and with the other aided + a poor creature, who seemed unable to walk alone. + </p> + <p> + “Goudar!” was on M. Folgat’s lips. + </p> + <p> + It was Goudar, really, but in what a state! His clothes muddy, and torn, + pale, with haggard eyes, his beard and his lips covered with a white foam. + </p> + <p> + “The story is this,” said the gendarme. “This individual was playing the + fiddle in the court of the barrack, and we were looking out of the window, + when all of a sudden he fell on the ground, rolled about, twisted and + writhed, while he uttered fearful howls, and foamed like a mad dog. We + picked him up; and I bring him to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave us alone with him,” said the physician. + </p> + <p> + The gendarme went out; and, as soon as the door was shut, Goudar cried + with a voice full of intense disgust,— + </p> + <p> + “What a profession! Just look at me! What a disgrace if my wife should see + me in this state! Phew!” + </p> + <p> + And, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his face, and drew + from his mouth a small piece of soap. + </p> + <p> + “But the point is,” said the doctor, “that you have played the epileptic + so well, that the gendarmes have been taken in.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine trick indeed, and very creditable.” + </p> + <p> + “An excellent trick, since you can now quite safely go to the hospital. + They will put you in the same ward with Cocoleu, and I shall come and see + you every morning. You are free to act now.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind me,” said the detective. “I have my plan.” + </p> + <p> + Then turning to M. Folgat, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “I am a prisoner now; but I have taken my precautions. The agent whom I + have sent to England will report to you. I have, besides, to ask a favor + at your hands. I have written to my wife to send her letters to you: you + can send them to me by the doctor. And now I am ready to become Cocoleu’s + companion, and I mean to earn the house in Vine Street.” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos signed an order of admission. He recalled the gendarme; and, + after having praised his kindness, he asked him to take “that poor devil” + to the hospital. When he was alone once more with M. Folgat, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear friend, let us consult. Shall we speak of what Martha has + told us and of Goudar’s plan. I think not; for M. Galpin is watching us; + and, if a mere suspicion of what is going on reaches the prosecution, all + is lost. Let us content ourselves, then, with reporting to Jacques your + interview with the countess; and as to the rest, Silence!” + </p> + <p> + XXVI. + </p> + <p> + Like all very clever men, Dr. Seignebos made the mistake of thinking other + people as cunning as he was himself. M. Galpin was, of course, watching + him, but by no means with the energy which one would have expected from so + ambitious a man. He had, of course, been the first to be notified that the + case was to be tried in open court, and from that moment he felt relieved + of all anxiety. + </p> + <p> + As to remorse, he had none. He did not even regret any thing. He did not + think of it, that the prisoner who was thus to be tried had once been his + friend,—a friend of whom he was proud, whose hospitality he had + enjoyed, and whose favor he had eagerly sought in his matrimonial + aspirations. No. He only saw one thing,—that he had engaged in a + dangerous affair, on which his whole future was depending, and that he was + going to win triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + Evidently his responsibility was by no means gone; but his zeal in + preparing the case for trial was no longer required. He need not appear at + the trial. Whatever must be the result, he thought he should escape the + blame, which he should surely have incurred if no true bill had been + found. He did not disguise it from himself that he should be looked at + askance by all Sauveterre, that his social relations were well-nigh broken + off, and that no one would henceforth heartily shake hands with him. But + that gave him no concern. Sauveterre, a miserable little town of five + thousand inhabitants! He hoped with certainty he would not remain there + long; and a brilliant preferment would amply repay him for his courage, + and relieve him from all foolish reproaches. + </p> + <p> + Besides, once in the large city to which he would be promoted, he could + hope that distance would aid in attenuating and even effacing the + impression made by his conduct. All that would be remembered after a time + would be his reputation as one of those famous judges, who, according to + the stereotyped phrase, “sacrifice every thing to the sacred interests of + justice, who put inflexible duty high above all the considerations that + trouble and disturb the vulgar mind, and whose heart is like a rock, + against which all human passions are helplessly broken to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + With such a reputation, with his knowledge of the world, and his eagerness + to succeed, opportunities would not be wanting to put himself forward, to + make himself known, to become useful, indispensable even. He saw himself + already on the highest rungs of the official ladder. He was a judge in + Bordeaux, in Lyons, in Paris itself! + </p> + <p> + With such rose-colored dreams he fell asleep at night. The next morning, + as he crossed the streets, his carriage haughtier and stiffer than ever, + his firmly-closed lips, and the cold and severe look of his eyes, told the + curious observers that there must be something new. + </p> + <p> + “M. de Boiscoran’s case must be very bad indeed,” they said, “or M. Galpin + would not look so very proud.” + </p> + <p> + He went first to the commonwealth attorney. The truth is, he was still + smarting under the severe reproaches of M. Daubigeon, and he thought he + would enjoy his revenge now. He found the old book-worm, as usual, among + his beloved books, and in worse humor than ever. He ignored it, handed him + a number of papers to sign; and when his business was over, and while he + was carefully replacing the documents in his bag with his monogram on the + outside, he added with an air of indifference,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear sir, you have heard the decision of the court? Which of us + was right?” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon shrugged his shoulders, and said angrily,— + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am nothing but an old fool, a maniac: I give it up; and I + say, like Horace’s man,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘Stultum me fateor, liceat concedere vires + Atque etiam insanum.’” + </pre> + <p> + “You are joking. But what would have happened if I had listened to you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care to know.” + </p> + <p> + “M. de Boiscoran would none the less have been sent to a jury.” + </p> + <p> + “May be.” + </p> + <p> + “Anybody else would have collected the proofs of his guilt just as well as + I.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a question.” + </p> + <p> + “And I should have injured my reputation very seriously; for they would + have called me one of those timid magistrates who are frightened at a + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “That is as good a reputation as some others,” broke in the commonwealth + attorney. + </p> + <p> + He had vowed he would answer only in monosyllables; but his anger made him + forget his oath. He added in a very severe tone,— + </p> + <p> + “Another man would not have been bent exclusively upon proving that M. de + Boiscoran was guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly have proved it.” + </p> + <p> + “Another man would have tried to solve the mystery.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have solved it, I should think.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon bowed ironically, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you. It must be delightful to know the secret of all + things, only you may be mistaken. You are an excellent hand at such + investigations; but I am an older man than you in the profession. The more + I think in this case, the less I understand it. If you know every thing so + perfectly well, I wish you would tell me what could have been the motive + for the crime, for, after all, we do not run the risk of losing our head + without some very powerful and tangible purpose. Where was Jacques’s + interest? You will tell me he hated Count Claudieuse. But is that an + answer. Come, go for a moment to your own conscience. But stop! No one + likes to do that.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin was beginning to regret that he had ever come. He had hoped to + find M. Daubigeon quite penitent, and here he was worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + “The Court of Inquiry has felt no such scruples,” he said dryly. + </p> + <p> + “No; but the jury may feel some. They are, occasionally, men of sense.” + </p> + <p> + “The jury will condemn M. de Boiscoran without hesitation.” + </p> + <p> + “I would not swear to that.” + </p> + <p> + “You would if you knew who will plead.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “The prosecution will employ M. Gransiere!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, oh!” + </p> + <p> + “You will not deny that he is a first-class man?” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate was evidently becoming angry; his ears reddened up; and in + the same proportion M. Daubigeon regained his calmness. + </p> + <p> + “God forbid that I should deny M. Gransiere’s eloquence. He is a powerful + speaker, and rarely misses his man. But then, you know, cases are like + books: they have their luck or ill luck. Jacques will be well defended.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of M. Magloire.” + </p> + <p> + “But Mr. Folgat?” + </p> + <p> + “A young man with no weight. I should be far more afraid of M. Lachant.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the plan of the defence?” + </p> + <p> + This was evidently the place where the shoe pinched; but M. Galpin took + care not to let it be seen, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I do not. But that does not matter. M. de Boiscoran’s friends at first + thought of making capital out of Cocoleu; but they have given that up. I + am sure of that! The police-agent whom I have charged to keep his eyes on + the idiot tells me that Dr. Seignebos does not trouble himself about the + man any more.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon smiled sarcastically, and said, much more for the purpose of + teasing his visitor than because he believed it himself,— + </p> + <p> + “Take care! do not trust appearances. You have to do with very clever + people. I always told you Cocoleu is probably the mainspring of the whole + case. The very fact that M. Gransiere will speak ought to make you + tremble. If he should not succeed, he would, of course, blame you, and + never forgive you in all his life. Now, you know he may fail. ‘There is + many a slip between the cup and the lip.’ + </p> + <p> + “And I am disposed to think with Villon,— + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing is so certain as uncertain things.’” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin could tell very well that he should gain nothing by prolonging + the discussion, and so he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Happen what may, I shall always know that my conscience supports me.” + </p> + <p> + Then he made great haste to take leave, lest an answer should come from M. + Daubigeon. He went out; and as he descended the stairs, he said to + himself,— + </p> + <p> + “It is losing time to reason with that old fogy who sees in the events of + the day only so many opportunities for quotations.” + </p> + <p> + But he struggled in vain against his own feelings; he had lost his + self-confidence. M. Daubigeon had revealed to him a new danger which he + had not foreseen. And what a danger!—the resentment of one of the + most eminent men of the French bar, one of those bitter, bilious men who + never forgive. M. Galpin had, no doubt, thought of the possibility of + failure, that is to say, of an acquittal; but he had never considered the + consequences of such a check. + </p> + <p> + Who would have to pay for it? The prosecuting attorney first and foremost, + because, in France, the prosecuting attorney makes the accusation a + personal matter, and considers himself insulted and humiliated, if he + misses his man. + </p> + <p> + Now, what would happen in such a case? + </p> + <p> + M. Gransiere, no doubt, would hold him responsible. He would say,— + </p> + <p> + “I had to draw my arguments from your part of the work. I did not obtain a + condemnation, because your work was imperfect. A man like myself ought not + to be exposed to such an humiliation, and, least of all, in a case which + is sure to create an immense sensation. You do not understand your + business.” + </p> + <p> + Such words were a public disgrace. Instead of the hoped-for promotion, + they would bring him an order to go into exile, to Corsica, or to Algiers. + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin shuddered at the idea. He saw himself buried under the ruins of + his castles in Spain. And, unluckily, he went once more over all the + papers of the investigation, analyzing the evidence he had, like a + soldier, who, on the eve of a battle, furbishes up his arms. However, he + only found one objection, the same which M. Daubigeon had made,—what + interest could Jacques have had in committing so great a crime? + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, “is evidently the weak part of the armor; and I would do + well to point it out to M. Gransiere. Jacques’s counsel are capable of + making that the turning-point of their plea.” + </p> + <p> + And, in spite of all he had said to M. Daubigeon, he was very much afraid + of the counsel for the defence. He knew perfectly well the prestige which + M. Magloire derived from his integrity and disinterestedness. It was no + secret to him, that a cause which M. Magloire espoused was at once + considered a good cause. They said of him,— + </p> + <p> + “He may be mistaken; but whatever he says he believes.” He could not but + have a powerful influence, therefore, not on judges who came into court + with well-established opinions, but with jurymen who are under the + influence of the moment, and may be carried off by the eloquence of a + speech. It is true, M. Magloire did not possess that burning eloquence + which thrills a crowd, but M. Folgat had it, and in an uncommon degree. M. + Galpin had made inquiries; and one of his Paris friends had written to + him,— + </p> + <p> + “Mistrust Folgat. He is a far more dangerous logician than Lachant, and + possesses the same skill in troubling the consciences of jurymen, in + moving them, drawing tears from them, and forcing them into an acquittal. + Mind, especially, any incidents that may happen during the trial; for he + has always some kind of surprise in reserve.” + </p> + <p> + “These are my adversaries,” thought M. Galpin. “What surprise, I wonder, + is there in store for me? Have they really given up all idea of using + Cocoleu?” + </p> + <p> + He had no reason for mistrusting his agent; and yet his apprehensions + became so serious, that he went out of his way to look in at the hospital. + The lady superior received him, as a matter of course, with all the signs + of profound respect; and, when he inquired about Cocoleu, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to see him?” + </p> + <p> + “I confess I should be very glad to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me, then.” + </p> + <p> + She took him into the garden, and there asked a gardener,— + </p> + <p> + “Where is the idiot?” + </p> + <p> + The man put his spade into the ground; and, with that affected reverence + which characterizes all persons employed in a convent, he answered,— + </p> + <p> + “The idiot is down there in the middle avenue, mother, in his usual place, + you know, which nothing will induce him to leave.” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin and the lady superior found him there. They had taken off the + rags which he wore when he was admitted, and put him into the + hospital-dress, which was a large gray coat and a cotton cap. He did not + look any more intelligent for that; but he was less repulsive. He was + seated on the ground, playing with the gravel. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my boy,” asked M. Galpin, “how do you like this?” + </p> + <p> + He raised his inane face, and fixed his dull eye on the lady superior; but + he made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to go back to Valpinson?” asked the lawyer again. He + shuddered, but did not open his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said M. Galpin, “answer me, and I’ll give you a ten-cent + piece.” + </p> + <p> + No: Cocoleu was at his play again. + </p> + <p> + “That is the way he is always,” declared the lady superior. “Since he is + here, no one has ever gotten a word out of him. Promises, threats, nothing + has any effect. One day I thought I would try an experiment; and, instead + of letting him have his breakfast, I said to him, ‘You shall have nothing + to eat till you say, “I am hungry.”’ At the end of twenty-four hours I had + to let him have his pittance; for he would have starved himself sooner + than utter a word.” + </p> + <p> + “What does Dr. Seignebos think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor does not want to hear his name mentioned,” replied the lady + superior. + </p> + <p> + And, raising her eyes to heaven, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “And that is a clear proof, that, but for the direct intervention of + Providence, the poor creature would never have denounced the crime which + he had witnessed.” + </p> + <p> + Immediately, however, she returned to earthly things, and asked,— + </p> + <p> + “But will you not relieve us soon of this poor idiot, who is a heavy + charge on our hospital? Why not send him back to his village, where he + found his support before? We have quite a number of sick and poor, and + very little room.” + </p> + <p> + “We must wait, sister, till M. de Boiscoran’s trial is finished,” replied + the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + The lady superior looked resigned, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “That is what the mayor told me, and it is very provoking, I must say: + however, they have allowed me to turn him out of the room which they had + given him at first. I have sent him to the Insane Ward. That is the name + we give to a few little rooms, enclosed by a wall, where we keep the poor + insane, who are sent to us provisionally.” + </p> + <p> + Here she was interrupted by the janitor of the hospital, who came up, + bowing. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Vaudevin, the janitor, handed her a note. + </p> + <p> + “A man brought by a gendarme,” he replied. “Immediately to be admitted.” + </p> + <p> + The lady superior read the note, signed by Dr. Seignebos. + </p> + <p> + “Epileptic,” she said, “and somewhat idiotic: as if we wanted any more! + And a stranger into the bargain! Really Dr. Seignebos is too yielding. Why + does he not send all these people to their own parish to be taken care + of?” + </p> + <p> + And, with a very elastic step for her age, she went to the parlor, + followed by M. Galpin and the janitor. They had put the new patient in + there, and, sunk upon a bench, he looked the picture of utter idiocy. + After having looked at him for a minute, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Put him in the Insane Ward: he can keep Cocoleu company. And let the + sister know at the drug-room. But no, I will go myself. You will excuse + me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + And then she left the room. M. Galpin was much comforted. + </p> + <p> + “There is no danger here,” he said to himself. “And if M. Folgat counts + upon any incident during the trial, Cocoleu, at all events, will not + furnish it to him.” + </p> + <p> + XXVII. + </p> + <p> + At the same hour when the magistrate left the hospital, Dr. Seignebos and + M. Folgat parted, after a frugal breakfast,—the one to visit his + patients, the other to go to the prison. The young advocate was very much + troubled. He hung his head as he went down the street; and the diplomatic + citizens who compared his dejected appearance with the victorious air of + M. Galpin came to the conclusion that Jacques de Boiscoran was irrevocably + lost. + </p> + <p> + At that moment M. Folgat was almost of their opinion. He had to pass + through one of those attacks of discouragement, to which the most + energetic men succumb at times, when they are bent upon pursuing an + uncertain end which they ardently desire. + </p> + <p> + The declarations made by little Martha and the governess had literally + overwhelmed him. Just when he thought he had the end of the thread in his + hand, the tangle had become worse than ever. And so it had been from the + commencement. At every step he took, the problem had become more + complicated than ever. At every effort he made, the darkness, instead of + being dispelled, had become deeper. Not that he as yet doubted Jacques’s + innocence. No! The suspicion which for a moment had flashed through his + mind had passed away instantly. He admitted, with Dr. Seignebos, the + possibility that there was an accomplice, and that it was Cocoleu, in all + probability, who had been charged with the execution of the crime. But how + could that fact be made useful to the defence? He saw no way. + </p> + <p> + Goudar was an able man; and the manner in which he had introduced himself + into the hospital and Cocoleu’s company indicated a master. But however + cunning he was, however experienced in all the tricks of his profession, + how could he ever hope to make a man confess who intrenched himself behind + the rampart of feigned imbecility? If he had only had an abundance of time + before him! But the days were counted, and he would have to hurry his + measures. + </p> + <p> + “I feel like giving it up,” thought the young lawyer. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime he had reached the prison. He felt the necessity of + concealing his anxiety. While Blangin went before him through the long + passages, rattling his keys, he endeavored to give to his features an + expression of hopeful confidence. + </p> + <p> + “At last you come!” cried Jacques. + </p> + <p> + He had evidently suffered terribly since the day before. A feverish + restlessness had disordered his features, and reddened his eyes. He was + shaking with nervous tremor. Still he waited till the jailer had shut the + door; and then he asked hoarsely,— + </p> + <p> + “What did she say?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat gave him a minute account of his mission, quoting the words of + the countess almost literally. + </p> + <p> + “That is just like her!” exclaimed the prisoner. “I think I can hear her! + What a woman! To defy me in this way!” + </p> + <p> + And in his anger he wrung his hands till they nearly bled. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” said the young advocate, “there is no use in trying to get + outside of our circle of defence. Any new effort would be useless.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” replied Jacques. “No, I shall not stop there!” + </p> + <p> + And after a few moments’ reflection,—if he can be said to have been + able to reflect,—he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will pardon me, my dear sir, for having exposed you to such + insults. I ought to have foreseen it, or, rather, I did foresee it. I knew + that was not the way to begin the battle. But I was a coward, I was + afraid, I drew back, fool that I was! As if I had not known that we shall + at any rate have to come to the last extremity! Well, I am ready now, and + I shall do it!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go and see the Countess Claudieuse. I shall tell her”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “You do not think she will deny it to my face? When I once have her under + my eye, I shall make her confess the crime of which I am accused.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat had promised Dr. Seignebos not to mention what Martha and her + governess had said; but he felt no longer bound to conceal it. + </p> + <p> + “And if the countess should not be guilty?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Who, then, could be guilty?” + </p> + <p> + “If she had an accomplice?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she will tell me who it is. I will insist upon it, I will make her + tell. I will not be disgraced. I am innocent, I will not go to the + galleys!” + </p> + <p> + To try and make Jacques listen to reason would have been madness just now. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care,” said the young lawyer. “Our defence is difficult enough + already; do not make it still more so.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be careful.” + </p> + <p> + “A scene might ruin us irrevocably.” + </p> + <p> + “Be not afraid!” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat said nothing more. He thought he could guess by what means + Jacques would try to get out of prison. But he did not ask him about the + details, because his position as his counsel made it his duty not to know, + or, at least, to seem not to know, certain things. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear sir,” said the prisoner, “you will render me a service, will + you not?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know as accurately as possible how the house in which the + countess lives is arranged.” + </p> + <p> + Without saying a word, M. Folgat took out a sheet of paper, and drew on it + a plan of the house, as far as he knew,—of the garden, the + entrance-hall, and the sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + “And the count’s room,” asked Jacques, “where is that?” + </p> + <p> + “In the upper story.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure he cannot get up?” + </p> + <p> + “Dr. Seignebos told me so.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner seemed to be delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Then all is right,” he said, “and I have only to ask you, my dear + counsel, to tell Miss Dionysia that I must see her to-day, as soon as + possible. I wish her to come accompanied by one of her aunts only. And, I + beseech you, make haste.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat did hasten; so that, twenty minutes later, he was at the young + lady’s house. She was in her chamber. He sent word to her that he wished + to see her; and, as soon as she heard that Jacques wanted her, she said + simply,— + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to go.” + </p> + <p> + And, calling one of the Misses Lavarande, she told her,— + </p> + <p> + “Come, Aunt Elizabeth, be quick. Take your hat and your shawl. I am going + out, and you are going with me.” + </p> + <p> + The prisoner counted so fully upon the promptness of his betrothed, that + he had already gone down into the parlor when she arrived at the prison, + quite out of breath from having walked so fast. He took her hands, and, + pressing them to his lips, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my darling! how shall I ever thank you for your sublime fidelity in + my misfortune? If I escape, my whole life will not suffice to prove my + gratitude.” + </p> + <p> + But he tried to master his emotion, and turning to Aunt Elizabeth, he + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Will you pardon me if I beg you to render me once more the service you + have done me before? It is all important that no one should hear what I am + going to say to Dionysia. I know I am watched.” + </p> + <p> + Accustomed to passive obedience, the good lady left the room without + daring to make the slightest remark, and went to keep watch in the + passage. Dionysia was very much surprised; but Jacques did not give her + time to utter a word. He said at once,— + </p> + <p> + “You told me in this very place, that, if I wished to escape, Blangin + would furnish me the means, did you not?” + </p> + <p> + The young girl drew back, and stammered with an air of utter bewilderment,— + </p> + <p> + “You do not want to flee?” + </p> + <p> + “Never! Under no circumstances! But you ought to remember, that, while + resisting all your arguments, I told you, that perhaps, some day or other, + I might require a few hours of liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “I begged you to sound the jailer on that point.” + </p> + <p> + “I did so. For money he will always be ready to do your bidding.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques seemed to breathe more freely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” he said again, “the time has come. To-morrow I shall have to + be away all the evening. I shall like to leave about nine; and I shall be + back at midnight.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” she said; “I want to call Blangin’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + The household of the jailer of Sauveterre was like many others. The + husband was brutal, imperious, and tyrannical: he talked loud and + positively, and thus made it appear that he was the master. The wife was + humble, submissive, apparently resigned, and always ready to obey; but in + reality she ruled by intelligence, as he ruled by main force. When the + husband had promised any thing, the consent of the wife had still to be + obtained; but, when the wife undertook to do any thing, the husband was + bound through her. Dionysia, therefore, knew very well that she would have + first to win over the wife. Mrs. Blangin came up in haste, her mouth full + of hypocritical assurances of good will, vowing that she was heart and + soul at her dear mistress’s command, recalling with delight the happy days + when she was in M. de Chandore’s service, and regretting forevermore. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” the young girl cut her short, “you are attached to me. But + listen!” + </p> + <p> + And then she promptly explained to her what she wanted; while Jacques, + standing a little aside in the shade, watched the impression on the + woman’s face. Gradually she raised her head; and, when Dionysia had + finished, she said in a very different tone,— + </p> + <p> + “I understand perfectly, and, if I were the master, I should say, ‘All + right!’ But Blangin is master of the jail. Well, he is not bad; but he + insists upon doing his duty. We have nothing but our place to live upon.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I not paid you as much as your place is worth?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know you do not mind paying.” + </p> + <p> + “You had promised me to speak to your husband about this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I have done so; but”— + </p> + <p> + “I would give as much as I did before.” + </p> + <p> + “In gold?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, be it so, in gold.” + </p> + <p> + A flash of covetousness broke forth from under the thick brows of the + jailer’s wife; but, quite self-possessed, she went on,— + </p> + <p> + “In that case, my man will probably consent. I will go and put him right, + and then you can talk to him.” + </p> + <p> + She went out hastily, and, as soon as she had disappeared, Jacques asked + Dionysia,— + </p> + <p> + “How much have you paid Blangin so far?” + </p> + <p> + “Seventeen thousand francs.” + </p> + <p> + “These people are robbing you outrageously.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what does the money matter? I wish we were both of us ruined, if you + were but free.” + </p> + <p> + But it had not taken the wife long to persuade the husband. Blangin’s + heavy steps were heard in the passage; and almost immediately, he entered, + cap in hand, looking obsequious and restless. + </p> + <p> + “My wife has told me every thing,” he said, “and I consent. Only we must + understand each other. This is no trifle you are asking for.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques interrupted him, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us not exaggerate the matter. I do not mean to escape: I only want to + leave for a time. I shall come back, I give you my word of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my life, that is not what troubles me. If the question was only to + let you run off altogether, I should open the doors wide, and say, + ‘Good-by!’ A prisoner who runs away—that happens every day; but a + prisoner who leaves for a few hours, and comes back again—Suppose + anybody were to see you in town? Or if any one came and wanted to see you + while you are gone? Or if they saw you come back again? What should I say? + I am quite ready to be turned off for negligence. I have been paid for + that. But to be tried as an accomplice, and to be put into jail myself. + Stop! That is not what I mean to do.” + </p> + <p> + This was evidently but a preface. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! why lose so many words?” asked Dionysia. “Explain yourself clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, M. de Boiscoran cannot leave by the gate. At tattoo, at eight + o’clock, the soldiers on guard at this season of the year go inside the + prison, and until <i>reveille</i> in the morning, or, in others words, + till five o’clock, I can neither open nor shut the gates without calling + the sergeant in command of the post.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he want to extort more money? Did he make the difficulties out + greater than they really were?” + </p> + <p> + “After all,” said Jacques, “if you consent, there must be a way.” + </p> + <p> + The jailer could dissemble no longer: he came out with it bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “If the thing is to be done, you must get out as if you were escaping in + good earnest. The wall between the two towers is, to my knowledge, at one + place not over two feet thick; and on the other side, where there are + nothing but bare grounds and the old ramparts, they never put a sentinel. + I will get you a crowbar and a pickaxe, and you make a hole in the wall.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “And the next day,” he said, “when I am back, how will you explain that + hole?” + </p> + <p> + Blangin smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Be sure,” he replied, “I won’t say the rats did it. I have thought of + that too. At the same time with you, another prisoner will run off, who + will not come back.” + </p> + <p> + “What prisoner?” + </p> + <p> + “Trumence, to be sure. He will be delighted to get away, and he will help + you in making the hole in the wall. You must make your bargain with him, + but, of course, without letting him know that I know any thing. In this + way, happen what may, I shall not be in danger.” + </p> + <p> + The plan was really a good one; only Blangin ought not to have claimed the + honor of inventing it: the idea came from his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Jacques, “that is settled. Get me the pickaxe and the + crowbar, show me the place where we must make the hole, and I will take + charge of Trumence. To-morrow you shall have the money.” + </p> + <p> + He was on the point of following the jailer, when Dionysia held him back; + and, lifting up her beautiful eyes to him, she said in a tremor,— + </p> + <p> + “You see, Jacques, I have not hesitated to dare every thing in order to + procure you a few house of liberty. May I not know what you are going to + do in that time?” + </p> + <p> + And, as he made no reply, she repeated,— + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + A rush of blood colored the face of the unfortunate man; and he said in an + embarrassed voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I beseech you, Dionysia, do not insist upon my telling you. Permit me to + keep this secret, the only one I have ever kept from you.” + </p> + <p> + Two tears trembled for a moment in the long lashes of the young girl, and + then silently rolled down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “I understand you,” she stammered. “I understand but too well. Although I + know so little of life, I had a presentiment, as soon as I saw that they + were hiding something from me. Now I cannot doubt any longer. You will go + to see a woman to-morrow”— + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia,” Jacques said with folded hands,—“Dionysia, I beseech + you!” + </p> + <p> + She did not hear him. Gently shaking her heard, she went on,— + </p> + <p> + “A woman whom you have loved, or whom you love still, at whose feet you + have probably murmured the same words which you whispered at my feet. How + could you think of her in the midst of all your anxieties? She cannot love + you, I am sure. Why did she not come to you when she found that you were + in prison, and falsely accused of an abominable crime?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques cold bear it no longer. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” he cried, “I would a thousand times rather tell you every + thing than allow such a suspicion to remain in your heart! Listen, and + forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + But she stopped him, putting her hand on his lips, and saying, all in a + tremor,— + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not wish to know any thing,—nothing at all. I believe in + you. Only you must remember that you are every thing to me,—hope, + life, happiness. If you should have deceived me, I know but too well—poor + me!—that I would not cease loving you; but I should not have long to + suffer.” + </p> + <p> + Overcome with grief and affection, Jacques repeated,— + </p> + <p> + “Dionysia, Dionysia, my darling, let me confess to you who this woman is, + and why I must see her.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she interrupted him, “no! Do what your conscience bids you do. I + believe in you.” + </p> + <p> + And instead of offering to let him kiss her forehead, as usual, she + hurried off with her Aunt Elizabeth, and that so quickly, that, when he + rushed after her, he only saw, as it were, a shadow at the end of the long + passage. + </p> + <p> + Never until this moment had Jacques found it in his heart really to hate + the Countess Claudieuse with that blind and furious hatred which dreams of + nothing but vengeance. Many a time, no doubt, he had cursed her in the + solitude of his prison; but even when he was most furious against her, a + feeling of pity had risen in his heart for her whom he had once loved so + dearly; for he did not disguise it to himself, he had once loved her to + distraction. Even in his prison he trembled, as he thought of some of his + first meetings with her, as he saw before his mind’s eye her features + swimming in voluptuous languor, as he heard the silvery ring of her voice, + or inhaled the perfume she loved ever to have about her. She had exposed + him to the danger of losing his position, his future, his honor even; and + he still felt inclined to forgive her. But now she threatened him with the + loss of his betrothed, the loss of that pure and chaste love which burnt + in Dionysia’s heart, and he could not endure that. + </p> + <p> + “I will spare her no longer,” he cried, mad with wrath. “I will hesitate + no longer. I have not the right to do so; for I am bound to defend + Dionysia!” + </p> + <p> + He was more than ever determined to risk that adventure on the next day, + feeling quite sure now that his courage would not fail him. + </p> + <p> + It was Trumence to-night—perhaps by the jailer’s skilful management—who + was ordered to take the prisoner back to his cell, and, according to the + jail-dictionary, to “curl him up” there. He called him in, and at once + plainly told him what he expected him to do. Upon Blangin’s assurance, he + expected the vagabond would jump at the mere idea of escaping from jail. + But by no means. Trumence’s smiling features grew dark; and, scratching + himself behind the ear furiously, he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “You see—excuse me, I don’t want to run away at all.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques was amazed. If Trumence refused his cooperation he could not go + out, or, at least, he would have to wait. + </p> + <p> + “Are you in earnest, Trumence?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly I am, my dear sir. Here, you see, I am not so badly off: I have + a good bed, I have two meals a day, I have nothing to do, and I pick up + now and then, from one man or another, a few cents to buy me a pinch of + tobacco or a glass of wine.” + </p> + <p> + “But your liberty?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shall get that too. I have committed no crime. I may have gotten + over a wall into an orchard; but people are not hanged for that. I have + consulted M. Magloire, and he told me precisely how I stand. They will try + me in a police-court, and they will give me three or four months. Well, + that is not so very bad. But, if I run away, they put the gendarmes on my + track; they bring me back here; and then I know how they will treat me. + Besides, to break jail is a grave offence.” + </p> + <p> + How could he overcome such wise conclusions and such excellent reasons? + Jacques was very much troubled. + </p> + <p> + “Why should the gendarmes take you again?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because they are gendarmes, my dear sir. And then, that is not all. If it + were spring, I should say at once, ‘I am your man.’ But we have autumn + now; we are going to have bad weather; work will be scarce.” + </p> + <p> + Although an incurable idler, Trumence had always a good deal to say about + work. + </p> + <p> + “You won’t help them in the vintage?” asked Jacques. + </p> + <p> + The vagabond looked almost repenting. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, the vintage must have commenced,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “But that only lasts a fortnight, and then comes winter. And winter is no + man’s friend: it’s my enemy. I know I have been without a place to lie + down when it has been freezing to split stones, and the snow was a foot + deep. Oh! here they have stoves, and the Board gives very warm clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but there are no merry evenings here, Trumence, eh? None of those + merry evenings, when the hot wine goes round, and you tell the girls all + sorts of stories, while you are shelling peas, or shucking corn?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I know. I do enjoy those evenings. But the cold! Where should I go + when I have not a cent?” + </p> + <p> + That was exactly where Jacques wanted to lead him. + </p> + <p> + “I have money,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I know you have.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not think I would let you go off with empty pockets? I would give + you any thing you may ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Really?” cried the vagrant. + </p> + <p> + And looking at Jacques with a mingled expression of hope, surprise, and + delight, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “You see I should want a good deal. Winter is long. I should want—let + me see, I should want fifty Napoleons!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have a hundred,” said Jacques. + </p> + <p> + Trumence’s eyes began to dance. He probably had a vision of those + irresistible taverns at Rochefort, where he had led such a merry life. But + he could not believe such happiness to be real. + </p> + <p> + “You are not making fun of me?” he asked timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want the whole sum at once?” replied Jacques. “Wait.” + </p> + <p> + He drew from the drawer in his table a thousand-franc note. But, at the + sight of the note, the vagrant drew back the hand which he had promptly + stretched out to take the money. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that kind? No! I know what that paper is worth: I have had some of + them myself. But what could I do with one of them now? It would not be + worth more to me than a leaf of a tree; for, at the first place I should + want it changed, they would arrest me.” + </p> + <p> + “That is easily remedied. By to-morrow I shall have gold, or small notes, + so you can have your choice.” + </p> + <p> + This time Trumence clapped his hands in great joy. + </p> + <p> + “Give me some of one kind, and some of the other,” he said, “and I am your + man! Hurrah for liberty! Where is that wall that we are to go through?” + </p> + <p> + “I will show you to-morrow; and till then, Trumence, silence.” + </p> + <p> + It was only the next day that Blangin showed Jacques the place where the + wall had least thickness. It was in a kind of cellar, where nobody ever + came, and where cast-off tools were stored away. + </p> + <p> + “In order that you may not be interrupted,” said the jailer, “I will ask + two of my comrades to dine with me, and I shall invite the sergeant on + duty. They will enjoy themselves, and never think of the prisoners. My + wife will keep a sharp lookout; and, if any of the rounds should come this + way, she would warn you, and quick, quick, you would be back in your + room.” + </p> + <p> + All was settled; and, as soon as night came, Jacques and Trumence, taking + a candle with them, slipped down into the cellar, and went to work. It was + a hard task to get through this old wall, and Jacques would never have + been able to accomplish it alone. The thickness was even less than what + Blangin had stated it to be; but the hardness was far beyond expectation. + Our fathers built well. In course of time the cement had become one with + the stone, and acquired the same hardness. It was as if they had attacked + a block of granite. The vagrant had, fortunately, a strong arm; and, in + spite of the precautions which they had to take to prevent being heard, he + had, in less than an hour, made a hole through which a man could pass. He + put his head in; and, after a moment’s examination, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “All right! The night is dark, and the place is deserted. Upon my word, I + will risk it!” + </p> + <p> + He went through; Jacques followed; and instinctively they hastened towards + a place where several trees made a dark shadow. Once there, Jacques handed + Trumence a package of five-franc notes, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Add this to the hundred Napoleons I have given you before. Thank you: you + are a good fellow, and, if I get out of my trouble, I will not forget you. + And now let us part. Make haste, be careful, and good luck!” + </p> + <p> + After these words he went off rapidly. But Trumence did not march off in + the opposite direction, as had been agreed upon. + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow,” said the poor vagrant to himself, “this is a curious story about + the poor gentleman. Where on earth can he be going?” + </p> + <p> + And, curiosity getting the better of prudence, he followed him. + </p> + <p> + XXVIII. + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran went straight to Mautrec Street. But he knew with + what horror he was looked upon by the population; and in order to avoid + being recognized, and perhaps arrested, he did not take the most direct + route, nor did he choose the more frequented streets. He went a long way + around, and well-nigh lost himself in the winding, dark lanes of the old + town. He walked along in Feverish haste, turning aside from the rare + passers-by, pulling his felt hat down over his eyes, and, for still + greater safety, holding his handkerchief over his face. It was nearly + half-past nine when he at last reached the house inhabited by Count and + Countess Claudieuse. The little gate had been taken out, and the great + doors were closed. + </p> + <p> + Never mind! Jacques had his plan. He rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + A maid, who did not know him, came to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Is the Countess Claudieuse in?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “The countess does not see anybody,” replied the girl. “She is sitting up + with the count, who is very ill to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must see her.” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her that a gentleman who has been sent by M. Galpin desires to see + her for a moment. It is the Boiscoran affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not say so at once?” said the servant. “Come in.” And + forgetting, in her hurry, to close the gates again, she went before + Jacques through the garden, showed him into the vestibule, and then opened + the parlor-door, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Will you please go in here and sit down, while I go to tell the + countess?” + </p> + <p> + After lighting one of the candles on the mantelpiece, she went out. So + far, every thing had gone well for Jacques, and even better than he could + have expected. Nothing remained now to be done, except to prevent the + countess from going back and escaping, as soon as she should have + recognized Jacques. Fortunately the parlor-door opened into the room. He + went and put himself behind the open half, and waited there. + </p> + <p> + For twenty-four hours he had prepared himself for this interview, and + arranged in his head the very words he would use. But now, at the last + moment, all his ideas flew away, like dry leaves under the breath of a + tempest. His heart was beating with such violence, that he thought it + filled the whole room with the noise. He imagined he was cool, and, in + fact, he possessed that lucidity which gives to certain acts of madmen an + appearance of sense. + </p> + <p> + He was surprised at being kept waiting so long, when, at last, light + steps, and the rustling of a dress, warned him that the countess was + coming. + </p> + <p> + She came in, dressed in a long, dark, undress robe, and took a few steps + into the room, astonished at not seeing the person who was waiting for + her. + </p> + <p> + It was exactly as Jacques had foreseen. + </p> + <p> + He pushed to, violently, the open half of the door; and, placing himself + before her, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “We are alone!” + </p> + <p> + She turned round at the noise, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Jacques!” + </p> + <p> + And terrified, as if she had seen a ghost, she looked all around, hoping + to see a way out. One of the tall windows of the room, which went down to + the ground, was half open, and she rushed towards it; but Jacques + anticipated her, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not attempt to escape; for I swear I should pursue you into your + husband’s room, to the foot of his bed.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him as if she did not comprehend. + </p> + <p> + “You,” she stammered,—“you here!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied, “I am here. You are astonished, are you? You said to + yourself, ‘He is in prison, well kept under lock and key: I can sleep in + peace. No evidence can be found. He will not speak. I have committed the + crime, and he will be punished for it. I am guilty; but I shall escape. He + is innocent, and he is lost.’ You thought it was all settled? Well, no, it + is not. I am here!” + </p> + <p> + An expression of unspeakable horror contracted the beautiful features of + the countess. She said,— + </p> + <p> + “This is monstrous!” + </p> + <p> + “Monstrous indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Murderer! Incendiary!” + </p> + <p> + He burst out laughing, a strident, convulsive, terrible laughter. + </p> + <p> + “And you,” he said, “you call me so?” + </p> + <p> + By one great effort the Countess Claudieuse recovered her energy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied, “yes, I do! You cannot deny your crime to me. I know, + I know the motives which the judges do not even guess. You thought I would + carry out my threats, and you were frightened. When I left you in such + haste, you said to yourself, ‘It is all over: she will tell her husband.’ + And then you kindled that fire in order to draw my husband out of the + house, you incendiary! And then you fired at my husband, you murderer!” + </p> + <p> + He was still laughing. + </p> + <p> + “And that is your plan?” he broke in. “Who do you think will believe such + an absurd story? Our letters were burnt; and, if you deny having been my + mistress, I can just as well deny having been your lover. And, besides, + would the exposure do me any harm? You know very well it would not. You + are perfectly aware, that, as society is with us, the same thing which + disgraces a woman rather raises a man in the estimate of the world. And as + to my being afraid of Count Claudieuse, it is well known that I am afraid + of nobody. At the time when we were concealing our love in the house in + Vine Street, yes, at that time, I might have been afraid of your husband; + for he might have surprised us there, the code in one hand, a revolver in + the other, and have availed himself of that stupid and savage law which + makes the husband the judge of his own case, and the executor of the + sentence which he himself pronounces. But setting aside such a case, the + case of being taken in the act, which allows a man to kill like a dog + another man, who can not or will not defend himself, what did I care for + Count Claudieuse? What did I care for your threats or for his hatred?” He + said these words with perfect calmness, but with that cold, cutting tone + which is as sharp as a sword, and with that positiveness which enters + irresistibly into the mind. The countess was tottering, and stammered + almost inaudibly,— + </p> + <p> + “Who would imagine such a thing? Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + Then, suddenly raising her head, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “But I am losing my senses. If you are innocent, who, then, could be the + guilty man?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques seized her hands almost madly, and pressing them painfully, and + bending over her so closely that she felt his hot breath like a flame + touching her face, he hissed into her ear,— + </p> + <p> + “You, wretched creature, you!” + </p> + <p> + And then pushing her from him with such violence that she fell into a + chair, he continued,— + </p> + <p> + “You, who wanted to be a widow in order to prevent me from breaking the + chains in which you held me. At our last meeting, when I thought you were + crushed by grief, and felt overcome by your hypocritical tears, I was weak + enough, I was stupid enough, to say that I married Dionysia only because + you were not free. Then you cried, ‘O God, how happy I am that that idea + did not occur to me before!’ What idea was that, Genevieve? Come, answer + me and confess, that it occurred to you too soon after all, since you have + carried it out?” + </p> + <p> + And repeating with crushing irony the words just uttered by the countess, + he said,— + </p> + <p> + “If you are innocent, who, then, would be the guilty man?” + </p> + <p> + Quite beside herself, she sprang up from her chair, and casting at Jacques + one of those glances which seem to enter through our eyes into the very + heart of our hearts, she asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Is it really possible that you have not committed this abominable crime?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “But then,” she repeated, almost panting, “is it true, can it really be + true, that you think I have committed it?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you have only ordered it to be committed.” + </p> + <p> + With a wild gesture she raised her arms to heaven, and cried in a + heart-rending voice,— + </p> + <p> + “O God, O God! He believes it! he really believes it!” + </p> + <p> + There followed great silence, dismal, formidable silence, such as in + nature follows the crash of the thunderbolt. + </p> + <p> + Standing face to face, Jacques and the Countess Claudieuse looked at each + other madly, feeling that the fatal hour in their lives had come at last. + </p> + <p> + Each felt a growing, a sure conviction of the other. There was no need of + explanations. They had been misled by appearances: they acknowledged it; + they were sure of it. + </p> + <p> + And this discovery was so fearful, so overwhelming, that neither thought + of who the real guilty one might be. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done?” asked the countess. + </p> + <p> + “The truth must be told,” replied Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “Which?” + </p> + <p> + “That I have been your lover; that I went to Valpinson by appointment with + you; that the cartridge-case which was found there was used by me to get + fire; that my blackened hands were soiled by the half-burnt fragment of + our letters, which I had tried to scatter.” + </p> + <p> + “Never!” cried the countess. + </p> + <p> + Jacques’s face turned crimson, as he said with an accent of merciless + severity,— + </p> + <p> + “It shall be told! I will have it so, and it must be done!” + </p> + <p> + The countess seemed to be furious. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” she cried again, “never!” + </p> + <p> + And with convulsive haste she added,— + </p> + <p> + “Do you not see that the truth cannot possibly be told. They would never + believe in our innocence. They would only look upon us as accomplices.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. I am not willing to die.” + </p> + <p> + “Say that you will not die alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Be it so.” + </p> + <p> + “To confess every thing would never save you, but would most assuredly + ruin me. Is that what you want? Would your fate appear less cruel to you, + if there were two victims instead of one?” + </p> + <p> + He stopped her by a threatening gesture, and cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Are you always the same? I am sinking, I am drowning; and she calculates, + she bargains! And she said she loved me!” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques!” broke in the countess. + </p> + <p> + And drawing close up to him, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! I calculate, I bargain? Well, listen. Yes, it is true. I did value my + reputation as an honest woman more highly, a thousand times more, than my + life; but, above my life and my reputation, I valued you. You are + drowning, you say. Well, then, let us flee. One word from you, and I leave + all,—honor, country, family, husband, children. Say one word, and I + follow you without turning my head, without a regret, without a remorse.” + </p> + <p> + Her whole body was shivering from head to foot; her bosom rose and fell; + her eyes shone with unbearable brilliancy. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to the violence of her action, her dress, put on in great haste, + had opened, and her dishevelled hair flowed in golden masses over her + bosom and her shoulders, which matched the purest marble in their dazzling + whiteness. + </p> + <p> + And in a voice trembling with pent-up passion, now sweet and soft like a + tender caress, and now deep and sonorous like a bell, she went on,— + </p> + <p> + “What keeps us? Since you have escaped from prison, the greatest + difficulty is overcome. I thought at first of taking our girl, your girl, + Jacques; but she is very ill; and besides a child might betray us. If we + go alone, they will never overtake us. We will have money enough, I am + sure, Jacques. We will flee to those distant countries which appear in + books of travels in such fairy-like beauty. There, unknown, forgotten, + unnoticed, our life will be one unbroken enjoyment. You will never again + say that I bargain. I will be yours, entirely, and solely yours, body and + soul, your wife, your slave.” + </p> + <p> + She threw her head back, and with half-closed eyes, bending with her whole + person toward him, she said in melting tones,— + </p> + <p> + “Say, Jacques, will you? Jacques!” + </p> + <p> + He pushed her aside with a fierce gesture. It seemed to him almost a + sacrilege that she also, like Dionysia, should propose to him to flee. + </p> + <p> + “Rather the galleys!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + She turned deadly pale; a spasm of rage convulsed her features; and + drawing back, stiff and stern, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “What else do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Your help to save me,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “At the risk of ruining myself?” + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Then she, who had just now been all humility, raised herself to her full + height, and in a tone of bitterest sarcasm said slowly,— + </p> + <p> + “In other words, you want me to sacrifice myself, and at the same time all + my family. For your sake? Yes, but even more for Miss Chandore’s sake. And + you think that it is quite a simple thing. I am the past to you, satiety, + disgust: she is the future to you, desire, happiness. And you think it + quite natural that the old love should make a footstool of her love and + her honor for the new love? You think little of my being disgraced, + provided she be honored; of my weeping bitterly, if she but smile? Well, + no, no! it is madness in you to come and ask me to save you, so that you + may throw yourself into the arms of another. It is madness, when in order + to tear you from Dionysia, I am ready to ruin myself, provided only that + you be lost to her forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Wretch!” cried Jacques. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a mocking air, and her eyes beamed with infernal + audacity. + </p> + <p> + “You do not know me yet,” she cried. “Go, speak, denounce me! M. Folgat no + doubt has told you how I can deny and defend myself.” + </p> + <p> + Maddened by indignation, and excited to a point where reason loses its + power over us, Jacques de Boiscoran moved with uplifted hand towards the + countess, when suddenly a voice said,— + </p> + <p> + “Do not strike that woman!” + </p> + <p> + Jacques and the countess turned round, and uttered, both at the same + instant, the same kind of sharp, terrible cry, which must have been heard + a great distance. + </p> + <p> + In the frame of the door stood Count Claudieuse, a revolver in his hand, + and ready to fire. + </p> + <p> + He looked as pale as a ghost; and the white flannel dressing-gown which he + had hastily thrown around him hung like a pall around his lean limbs. The + first cry uttered by the countess had been heard by him on the bed on + which he lay apparently dying. A terrible presentiment had seized him. He + had risen from his bed, and, dragging himself slowly along, holding + painfully to the balusters, he had come down. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard all,” he said, casting crushing looks at both the guilty + ones. + </p> + <p> + The countess uttered a deep, hoarse sigh, and sank into a chair. But + Jacques drew himself up, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I have insulted you terribly, sir. Avenge yourself.” + </p> + <p> + The count shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Great God! You would allow me to be condemned for a crime which I have + not committed. Ah, that would be the meanest cowardice.” + </p> + <p> + The count was so feeble that he had to lean against the door-post. + </p> + <p> + “Would it be cowardly?” he asked. “Then, what do you call the act of that + miserable man who meanly, disgracefully robs another man of his wife, and + palms off his own children upon him? It is true you are neither an + incendiary nor an assassin. But what is fire in my house in comparison + with the ruin of all my faith? What are the wounds in my body in + comparison with that wound in my heart, which never can heal? I leave you + to the court, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Jacques was terrified; he saw the abyss opening before him that was to + swallow him up. + </p> + <p> + “Rather death,” he cried,—“death.” + </p> + <p> + And, baring his breast, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “But why do you not fire, sir? Why do you not fire? Are you afraid of + blood? Shoot! I have been the lover of your wife: your youngest daughter + is my child.” + </p> + <p> + The count lowered his weapon. + </p> + <p> + “The courts of justice are more certain,” he said. “You have robbed me of + my honor: now I want yours. And, if you cannot be condemned without it, I + shall say, I shall swear, that I recognized you. You shall go to the + galleys, M. de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + He was on the point of coming forward; but his strength was exhausted, and + he fell forward, face downward, and arms outstretched. + </p> + <p> + Overcome with horror, half mad, Jacques fled. + </p> + <p> + XXIX. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat had just risen. Standing before his mirror, hung up to one of + the windows in his room, he had just finished shaving himself, when the + door was thrown open violently, and old Anthony appeared quite beside + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, sir, what a terrible thing!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Run away, disappeared!” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Master Jacques!” + </p> + <p> + The surprise was so great, that M. Folgat nearly let his razor drop: he + said, however, peremptorily,— + </p> + <p> + “That is false!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, sir,” replied the old servant, “everybody is full of it in town. + All the details are known. I have just seen a man who says he met master + last night, about eleven o’clock, running like a madman down National + Street.” + </p> + <p> + “That is absurd.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only told Miss Dionysia so far, and she sent me to you. You ought + to go and make inquiry.” + </p> + <p> + The advice was not needed. Wiping his face hastily, the young advocate + went to dress at once. He was ready in a moment; and, having run down the + stairs, he was crossing the passage when he heard somebody call his name. + He turned round, and saw Dionysia making him a sign to come into the + boudoir in which she was usually sitting. He did so. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia and the young advocate alone knew what a desperate venture + Jacques had undertaken the night before. They had not said a word about it + to each other; but each had noticed the preoccupation of the other. All + the evening M. Folgat had not spoken ten words, and Dionysia had, + immediately after dinner, gone up to her own room. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “The report, madam, must be false,” replied the advocate. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” + </p> + <p> + “His evasion would be a confession of his crime. It is only the guilty who + try to escape; and M. de Boiscoran is innocent. You can rest quite + assured, madam, it is not so. I pray you be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Who would not have pitied the poor girl at that moment? She was as white + as her collar, and trembled violently. Big tears ran over her eyes; and at + each word a violent sob rose in her throat. + </p> + <p> + “You know where Jacques went last night?” she asked again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head a little aside, and went on, in a hardly audible + voice,— + </p> + <p> + “He went to see once more a person whose influence over him is, probably, + all powerful. It may be that she has upset him, stunned him. Might she not + have prevailed upon him to escape from the disgrace of appearing in court, + charged with such a crime?” + </p> + <p> + “No, madam, no!” + </p> + <p> + “This person has always been Jacques’s evil genius. She loves him, I am + sure. She must have been incensed at the idea of his becoming my husband. + Perhaps, in order to induce him to flee, she has fled with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! do not be afraid, madam: the Countess Claudieuse is incapable of such + devotion.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia threw herself back in utter amazement; and, raising her wide-open + eyes to the young advocate, she said with an air of stupefaction,— + </p> + <p> + “The Countess Claudieuse?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat saw his indiscretion. He had been under the impression that + Jacques had told his betrothed every thing; and her very manner of + speaking had confirmed him in his conviction. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is the Countess Claudieuse,” she went on,—“that lady whom + all revere as if she were a saint. And I, who only the other day marvelled + at her fervor in praying,—I who pitied her with all my heart,—I—Ah! + I now see what they were hiding from me.” + </p> + <p> + Distressed by the blunder which he had committed, the young advocate said,— + </p> + <p> + “I shall never forgive myself, madam, for having mentioned that name in + your presence.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you have rendered me a great service, sir. But, I pray, go and + see what the truth is about this report.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat had not walked down half the street, when he became aware that + something extraordinary must really have happened. The whole town was in + uproar. People stood at their doors, talking. Groups here and there were + engaged in lively discussions. + </p> + <p> + Hastening his steps, he was just turning into National Street, when he was + stopped by three or four gentlemen, whose acquaintance he had, in some way + or other, been forced to make since he was at Sauveterre. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir?” said one of these amiable friends, “your client, it seems, is + running about nicely.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand,” replied M. Folgat in a tone of ice. + </p> + <p> + “Why? Don’t you know your client has run off?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. The wife of a workman whom I employ was the person through + whom the escape became known. She had gone on the old ramparts to cut + grass there for her goat; and, when she came to the prison wall, she saw a + big hole had been made there. She gave at once the alarm; the guard came + up; and they reported the matter immediately to the commonwealth + attorney.” + </p> + <p> + For M. Folgat the evidence was not satisfactory yet. He asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Well? And M. de Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot be found. Ah, I tell you, it is just as I say. I know it from a + friend who heard it from a clerk at the mayor’s office. Blangin the + jailer, they say, is seriously implicated.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope soon to see you again,” said the young advocate, and left him + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman seemed to be very grievously offended at such treatment; but + the young advocate paid no attention to him, and rapidly crossed the + New-Market Square. + </p> + <p> + He was become apprehensive. He did not fear an evasion, but thought there + might have occurred some fearful catastrophe. A hundred persons, at least, + were assembled around the prison-doors, standing there with open mouths + and eager eyes; and the sentinels had much trouble in keeping them back. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat made his way through the crowd, and went in. + </p> + <p> + In the court-yard he found the commonwealth attorney, the chief of police, + the captain of the gendarmes, M. Seneschal, and, finally, M. Galpin, all + standing before the janitor’s lodge in animated discussion. The magistrate + looked paler than ever, and was, as they called it in Sauveterre, in + bull-dog humor. There was reason for it. + </p> + <p> + He had been informed as promptly as M. Folgat, and had, with equal + promptness, dressed, and hastened to the prison. And all along his way, + unmistakable evidence had proved to him that public opinion was fiercely + roused against the accused, but that it was as deeply excited against + himself. + </p> + <p> + On all sides he had been greeted by ironical salutations, mocking smiles, + and even expressions of condolence at the loss of his prisoner. Two men, + whom he suspected of being in close relations with Dr. Seignebos, had even + murmured, as he passed by them,— + </p> + <p> + “Cheated, Mr. Bloodhound.” + </p> + <p> + He was the first to notice the young advocate, and at once said to him,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, do you come for news?” + </p> + <p> + But M. Folgat was not the man to be taken in twice the same day. + Concealing his apprehensions under the most punctilious politeness, he + replied,— + </p> + <p> + “I have heard all kinds of reports; but they do not affect me. M. de + Boiscoran has too much confidence in the excellency of his cause and the + justice of his country to think of escaping. I only came to confer with + him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are right!” exclaimed M. Daubigeon. “M. de Boiscoran is in his + cell, utterly unaware of all the rumors that are afloat. It was Trumence + who has run off,—Trumence, the light-footed. He was kept in prison + for form’s sake only, and helped the keeper as a kind of assistant jailer. + He it is who has made a hole in the wall, and escaped, thinking, no doubt, + that the heavens are a better roof than the finest jail.” + </p> + <p> + A little distance behind the group stood Blangin, the jailer, affecting a + contrite and distressed air. + </p> + <p> + “Take the counsel to the prisoner Boiscoran,” said M. Galpin dryly, + fearing, perhaps, that M. Daubigeon might regale the public with all the + bitter epigrams with which he persecuted him privately. The jailer bowed + to the ground, and obeyed the order; but, as soon as he was alone with M. + Folgat in the porch of the building, he blew up his cheek, and then tapped + it, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Cheated all around.” + </p> + <p> + Then he burst out laughing. The young advocate pretended not to understand + him. It was but prudent that he should appear ignorant of what had + happened the night before, and thus avoid all suspicion of a complicity + which substantially did not exist. + </p> + <p> + “And still,” Blangin went on, “this is not the end of it yet. The + gendarmes are all out. If they should catch my poor Trumence! That man is + such a fool, the most stupid judge would worm his secret out of him in + five minutes. And then, who would be in a bad box?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat still made no reply; but the other did not seem to mind that + much. He continued,— + </p> + <p> + “I only want to do one thing, and that is to give up my keys as soon as + possible. I am tired of this profession of jailer. Besides, I shall not be + able to stay here much longer. This escape has put a flea into the ear of + the authorities, and they are going to give me an assistant, a former + police sergeant, who is as bad as a watchdog. Ah! the good days of M. de + Boiscoran are over: no more stolen visits, no more promenades. He is to be + watched day and night.” + </p> + <p> + Blangin had stopped at the foot of the staircase to give all these + explanations. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go up,” he said now, as M. Folgat showed signs of growing + impatience. + </p> + <p> + He found Jacques lying on his bed, all dressed; and at the first glance he + saw that a great misfortune had happened. + </p> + <p> + “One more hope gone?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The prisoner raised himself up with difficulty, and sat up on the side of + his bed; then he replied in a voice of utter despair,— + </p> + <p> + “I am lost, and this time hopelessly.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Just listen!” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate could not help shuddering as he heard the account given + by Jacques of what had happened the night before. And when it was + finished, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “You are right. If Count Claudieuse carries out his threat, it may be a + condemnation.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be a condemnation, you mean. Well, you need not doubt. He will + carry out his threat.” + </p> + <p> + And shaking his head with an air of desolation, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “And the most formidable part of it is this: I cannot blame him for doing + it. The jealousy of husbands is often nothing more than self-love. When + they find they have been deceived, their vanity is offended; but their + heart remains whole. But in this case it is very different. He not only + loved his wife, he worshipped her. She was his happiness, life itself. + When I took her from him, I robbed him of all he had,—yes, of all! I + never knew what adultery meant till I saw him overcome with shame and + rage. He was left without any thing in a moment. His wife had a lover: his + favorite daughter was not his own! I suffer terribly; but it is nothing, I + am sure, in comparison with what he suffers. And you expect, that, holding + a weapon in his hand, he should not use it? It is a treacherous, dishonest + weapon, to be sure; but have I been frank and honest? It would be a mean, + ignoble vengeance, you will say; but what was the offence? In his place, I + dare say, I should do as he does.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was thunderstruck. + </p> + <p> + “But after that,” he asked, “when you left the house?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques passed his hand mechanically over his forehead, as if to gather + his thoughts, and then went on,— + </p> + <p> + “After that I fled precipitately, like a man who has committed a crime. + The garden-door was open, and I rushed out. I could not tell you with + certainty in what direction I ran, through what streets I passed. I had + but one fixed idea,—to get away from that house as quickly and as + far as possible. I did not know what I was doing. I went, I went. When I + came to myself, I was many miles away from Sauveterre, on the road to + Boiscoran. The instinct of the animal within me had guided me on the + familiar way to my house. At the first moment I could not comprehend how I + had gotten there. I felt like a drunkard whose head is filled with the + vapors of alcohol, and who, when he is roused, tries to remember what has + happened during his intoxication. Alas! I recalled the fearful reality but + too soon. I knew that I ought to go back to prison, that it was an + absolute necessity; and yet I felt at times so weary, so exhausted, that I + was afraid I should not be able to get back. Still I did reach the prison. + Blangin was waiting for me, all anxiety; for it was nearly two o’clock. He + helped me to get up here. I threw myself, all dressed as I was, on my bed, + and I fell fast asleep in an instant. But my sleep was a miserable sleep, + broken by terrible dreams, in which I saw myself chained to the galleys, + or mounting the scaffold with a priest by my side; and even at this moment + I hardly know whether I am awake or asleep, and whether I am not still + suffering under a fearful nightmare.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat could hardly conceal a tear. He murmured,— + </p> + <p> + “Poor man!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, poor man indeed!” repeated Jacques. “Why did I not follow my + first inspiration last night when I found myself on the high-road. I + should have gone on to Boiscoran, I should have gone up stairs to my room, + and there I should have blown out my brains. I should then suffer no + more.” + </p> + <p> + Was he once more giving himself up to that fatal idea of suicide? + </p> + <p> + “And your parents,” said M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “My parents! And do you think they will survive my condemnation?” + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Chandore?” + </p> + <p> + He shuddered, and said fiercely,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! it is for her sake first of all that I ought to make an end of it. + Poor Dionysia! Certainly she would grieve terribly when she heard of my + suicide. But she is not twenty yet. My memory would soon fade in her + heart; and weeks growing into months, and months into years, she would + find comfort. To live means to forget.” + </p> + <p> + “No! You cannot really think what you are saying!” broke in M. Folgat. + “You know very well that she—she would never forget you!” + </p> + <p> + A tear appeared in the eyes of the unfortunate man, and he said in a + half-smothered voice,— + </p> + <p> + “You are right. I believe to strike me down means to strike her down also. + But do you think what life would be after a condemnation? Can you imagine + what her sensations would be, if day after day she had to say to herself, + ‘He whom alone I love upon earth is at the galleys, mixed up with the + lowest of criminals, disgraced for life, dishonored.’ Ah! death is a + thousand times preferable.” + </p> + <p> + “Jacques, M. de Boiscoran, do you forget that you have given me your word + of honor?” + </p> + <p> + “The proof that I have not forgotten it is that you see me here. But, + never mind, the day is not very far off when you will see me so wretched + that you yourself will be the first to put a weapon into my hands.” + </p> + <p> + But the young advocate was one of those men whom difficulties only excite + and stimulate, instead of discouraging. He had already recovered somewhat + from the first great shock, and he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Before you throw down your hand, wait, at least, till the game is lost. + You are not sentenced yet. Far from it! You are innocent, and there is + divine justice. Who tells us that Count Claudieuse will really give + evidence? We do not even know whether he has not, at this moment, drawn + his last breath upon earth!” + </p> + <p> + Jacques leaped up as if in a spasm, and turning deadly pale, exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don’t say that! That fatal thought has already occurred to me, that + perhaps he did not rise again last night. Would to God that that be not + so! for then I should but too surely be an assassin. He was my first + thought when I awoke. I thought of sending out to make inquiries. But I + did not dare do it.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat felt his heart oppressed with most painful anxiety, like the + prisoner himself. Hence he said at once,— + </p> + <p> + “We cannot remain in this uncertainty. We can do nothing as long as the + count’s fate is unknown to us; for on his fate depends ours. Allow me to + leave you now. I will let you know as soon as I hear any thing positive. + And, above all, keep up your courage, whatever may happen.” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate was sure of finding reliable information at Dr. + Seignebos’s house. He hastened there; and, as soon as he entered, the + physician cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, there you are coming at last! I give up twenty of my worst patients + to see you, and you keep me waiting forever. I was sure you would come. + What happened last night at Count Claudieuse’s house?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know”— + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing. I have seen the results; but I do not know the cause. The + result was this: last night, about eleven o’clock, I had just gone to bed, + tired to death, when, all of a sudden, somebody rings my bell as if he + were determined to break it. I do not like people to perform so violently + at my door; and I was getting up to let the man know my mind, when Count + Claudieuse’s servant rushed in, pushing my own servant unceremoniously + aside, and cried out to me to come instantly, as his master had just + died.” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” + </p> + <p> + “That is what I said, because, although I knew the count was very ill, I + did not think he was so near death.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, he is really dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. But, if you interrupt me continually, I shall never be able + to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + And taking off his spectacles, wiping them, and putting them on again, he + went on,— + </p> + <p> + “I was dressed in an instant, and in a few minutes I was at the house. + They asked me to go into the sitting-room down stairs. There I found, to + my great amazement, Count Claudieuse, lying on a sofa. He was pale and + stiff, his features fearfully distorted, and on his forehead a slight + wound, from which a slender thread of blood was trickling down. Upon my + word I thought it was all over.” + </p> + <p> + “And the countess?” + </p> + <p> + “The countess was kneeling by her husband; and, with the help of her + women, she was trying to resuscitate him by rubbing him, and putting hot + napkins on his chest. But for these wise precautions she would be a widow + at this moment; whilst, as it is, he may live a long time yet. This + precious count has a wonderful tenacity of life. We, four of us, then took + him and carried him up stairs, and put him to bed, after having carefully + warmed it first. He soon began to move; he opened his eyes; and a quarter + of an hour later he had recovered his consciousness, and spoke readily, + though with a somewhat feeble voice. Then, of course, I asked what had + happened, and for the first time in my life I saw the marvellous + self-possession of the countess forsake her. She stammered pitifully, + looking at her husband with a most frightened air, as if she wished to + read in his eyes what she should say. He undertook to answer me; but he, + also was evidently very much embarrassed. He said, that being left alone, + and feeling better than usual, he had taken it into his head to try his + strength. He had risen, put on his dressing-gown, and gone down stairs; + but, in the act of entering the room, he had become dizzy, and had fallen + so unfortunately as to hurt his forehead against the sharp corner of a + table. I affected to believe it, and said, ‘You have done a very imprudent + thing, and you must not do it again.’ Then he looked at his wife in a very + singular way, and replied, ‘Oh! you can be sure I shall not commit another + imprudence. I want too much to get well. I have never wished it so much as + now.’” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was on the point of replying; but the doctor closed his lips + with his hand, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Wait, I have not done yet.” + </p> + <p> + And, manipulating his spectacles most assiduously, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “I was just going home, when suddenly a chambermaid came in with a + frightened air to tell the countess that her older daughter, little + Martha, whom you know, had just been seized with terrible convulsions. Of + course I went to see her, and found her suffering from a truly fearful + nervous attack. It was only with great difficulty I could quiet her; and + when I thought she had recovered, suspecting that there might be some + connection between her attack and the accident that had befallen her + father, I said in the most paternal tone I could assume, ‘Now my child, + you must tell me what was the matter.’ She hesitated a while, and then she + said, ‘I was frightened.’—‘Frightened at what, my darling?’ She + raised herself on her bed, trying to consult her mother’s eyes; but I had + placed myself between them, so that she could not see them. When I + repeated my question, she said, ‘Well, you see, I had just gone to bed, + when I heard the bell ring. I got up, and went to the window to see who + could be coming so late. I saw the servant go and open the door, a + candlestick in her hand, and come back to the house, followed by a + gentleman, whom I did not know.’ The countess interrupted her here, + saying, ‘It was a messenger from the court, who had been sent to me with + an urgent letter.’ But I pretended not to hear her; and, turning still to + Martha, I asked again, ‘And it was this gentleman who frightened you so?’—‘Oh, + no!’—‘What then?’ Out of the corner of my eye I was watching the + countess. She seemed to be terribly embarrassed. Still she did not dare to + stop her daughter. ‘Well, doctor,’ said the little girl, ‘no sooner had + the gentleman gone into the house than I saw one of the statues under the + trees there come down from its pedestal, move on, and glide very quietly + along the avenue of lime-trees.’” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember, doctor,” he said, “the day we were questioning little + Martha, she said she was terribly frightened by the statutes in the + garden?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed!” replied the doctor. “But wait a while. The countess + promptly interrupted her daughter, saying to me, ‘But, dear doctor, you + ought to forbid the child to have such notions in her head. At Valpinson + she never was afraid, and even at night, quite alone, and without a light, + all over the house. But here she is frightened at every thing; and, as + soon as night comes, she fancies the garden is full of ghosts. You are too + big now, Martha, to think that statues, which are made of stone, can come + to life, and walk about.’ The child was shuddering. + </p> + <p> + “‘The other times, mamma,’ she said, ‘I was not quite sure; but this time + I am sure. I wanted to go away from the window, and I could not do it. It + was too strong for me: so that I saw it all, saw it perfectly. I saw the + statue, the ghost, come up the avenue slowly and cautiously, and then + place itself behind the last tree, the one that is nearest to the parlor + window. Then I heard a loud cry, then nothing more. The ghost remained all + the time behind the tree, and I saw all it did: it turned to the left and + the right; it drew itself up; and it crouched down. Then, all of a sudden, + two terrible cries; but, O mamma, such cries! Then the ghost raised one + arm, this way, and all of a sudden it was gone; but almost the same moment + another one came out, and then disappeared, too.’” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was utterly overcome with amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, these ghosts!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You suspect them, do you? I suspected them at once. Still I pretended to + turn Martha’s whole story into a joke, and tried to explain to her how the + darkness made us liable to have all kinds of optical illusions; so that + when I left, and a servant was sent with a candle to light me on my way, + the countess was quite sure that I had no suspicion. I had none; but I had + more than that. As soon as I entered the garden, therefore, I dropped a + piece of money which I had kept in my hand for the purpose. Of course I + set to work looking for it at the foot of the tree nearest to the + parlor-window, while the servant helped with his candle. Well, M. Folgat, + I can assure you that it was not a ghost that had been walking about under + the trees; and, if the footmarks which I found there were made by a + statue, that statue must have enormous feet, and wear huge iron-shod + shoes.” + </p> + <p> + The young advocate was prepared for this. He said,— + </p> + <p> + “There is no doubt: the scene had a witness.” + </p> + <p> + XXX. + </p> + <p> + “What scene? What witness? That is what I wanted to hear from you, and why + I was waiting so impatiently for you,” said Dr. Seignebos to M. Folgat. “I + have seen and stated the results: now it is for you to give me the cause.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he did not seem to be in the least surprised by what the + young advocate told him of Jacques’s desperate enterprise, and of the + tragic result. As soon as he had heard it all, he exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “I thought so: yes, upon my word! By racking my brains all night long, I + had very nearly guessed the whole story. And who, in Jacques’s place, + would not have been desirous to make one last effort? But certainly fate + is against him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows?” said M. Folgat. And, without giving the doctor time to reply, + he went on,— + </p> + <p> + “In what are our chances worse than they were before? In no way. We can + to-day, just as well as we could yesterday, lay our hands upon those + proofs which we know do exist, and which would save us. Who tells us that + at this moment Sir Francis Burnett and Suky Wood may not have been found? + Is your confidence in Goudar shaken?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as to that, not at all! I saw him this morning at the hospital, when + I paid my usual visit; and he found an opportunity to tell me that he was + almost certain of success.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I am persuaded Cocoleu will speak. But will he speak in time? That is the + question. Ah, if we had but a month’s time, I should say Jacques is safe. + But our hours are counted, you know. The court will be held next week. I + am told the presiding judge has already arrived, and M. Gransiere has + engaged rooms at the hotel. What do you mean to do if nothing new occurs + in the meantime?” + </p> + <p> + “M. Magloire and I will obstinately adhere to our plan of defence.” + </p> + <p> + “And if Count Claudieuse keeps his promise, and declares that he + recognized Jacques in the act of firing at him?” + </p> + <p> + “We shall say he is mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “And Jacques will be condemned.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the young advocate. + </p> + <p> + And lowering his voice, as if he did not wish to be overheard, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Only the sentence will not be a fatal sentence. Ah, do not interrupt me, + doctor, and upon your life, upon Jacques’s life, do not say a word of what + I am going to tell you. A suspicion which should cross M. Galpin’s mind + would destroy my last hope; for it would give him an opportunity of + correcting a blunder which he has committed, and which justifies me in + saying to you, ‘Even if the count should give evidence, even if sentence + should be passed, nothing would be lost yet.’” + </p> + <p> + He had become animated; and his accent and his gestures made you feel that + he was sure of himself. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he repeated, “nothing would be lost; and then we should have time + before us, while waiting for a second trial, to hunt up our witnesses, and + to force Cocoleu to tell the truth. Let the count say what he chooses, I + like it all the better: I shall thus be relieved of my last scruples. It + seemed to me odious to betray the countess, because I thought the most + cruelly punished would be the count. But, if the count attacks us, we are + on the defence; and public opinion will be on our side. More than that, + they will admire us for having sacrificed our honor to a woman’s honor, + and for having allowed ourselves to be condemned rather than to give up + the name of her who has given herself to us.” + </p> + <p> + The physician did not seem to be convinced; but the young advocate paid no + attention. He went on,— + </p> + <p> + “No, our success in a second trial would be almost certain. The scene in + Mautrec Street has been seen by a witness: his iron-shod shoes have left, + as you say, their marks under the linden-trees nearest to the + parlor-window, and little Martha has watched his movements. Who can this + witness be unless it is Trumence? Well, we shall lay hands upon him. He + was standing so that he could see every thing, and hear every word. He + will tell what he saw and what he heard. He will tell how Count Claudieuse + called out to M. de Boiscoran, ‘No, I do not want to kill you! I have a + surer vengeance than that: you shall go to the galleys.’” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Seignebos sadly shook his head as he said,— + </p> + <p> + “I hope your expectations may be realized, my dear sir.” + </p> + <p> + But they came again for the doctor the third time to-day. Shaking hands + with the young advocate, he parted with his young friend, who after a + short visit to M. Magloire, whom he thought it his duty to keep well + informed of all that was going on, hastened to the house of M. de + Chandore. As soon as he looked into Dionysia’s face, he knew that he had + nothing to tell her; that she knew all the facts, and how unjust her + suspicions had been. + </p> + <p> + “What did I tell you, madam?” he said very modestly. + </p> + <p> + She blushed, ashamed at having let him see the secret doubts which had + troubled her so sorely, and, instead of replying, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “There are some letters for you, M. Folgat. They have carried them up + stairs to your room.” + </p> + <p> + He found two letters,—one from Mrs. Goudar, the other from the agent + who had been sent to England. + </p> + <p> + The former was of no importance. Mrs. Goudar only asked him to send a + note, which she enclosed, to her husband. + </p> + <p> + The second, on the other hand, was of the very greatest interest. The + agent wrote,— + </p> + <p> + “Not without great difficulties, and especially not without a heavy outlay + of money, I have at length discovered Sir Francis Burnett’s brother in + London, the former cashier of the house of Gilmour and Benson. + </p> + <p> + “Our Sir Francis is not dead. He was sent by his father to Madras, to + attend to very important financial matters, and is expected back by the + next mail steamer. We shall be informed of his arrival on the very day on + which he lands. + </p> + <p> + “I have had less trouble in discovering Suky Wood’s family. They are + people very well off, who keep a sailor’s tavern in Folkstone. They had + news from their daughter about three weeks ago; but, although they profess + to be very much attached to her, they could not tell me accurately where + she was just now. All they know is, that she has gone to Jersey to act as + barmaid in a public house. + </p> + <p> + “But that is enough for me. The island is not very large; and I know it + quite well, having once before followed a notary public there, who had run + off with the money of his clients. You may consider Suky as safe. + </p> + <p> + “When you receive this letter, I shall be on my way to Jersey. + </p> + <p> + “Send me money there to the Golden Apple Hotel, where I propose to lodge. + Life is amazingly dear in London; and I have very little left of the sum + you gave me on parting.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, in this direction, at least, every thing was going well. + </p> + <p> + Quite elated by this first success, M. Folgat put a thousand-franc note + into an envelope, directed it as desired, and sent it at once to the + post-office. Then he asked M. de Chandore to lend him his carriage, and + went out to Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to see Michael, the tenant’s son, who had been so prompt in + finding Cocoleu, and in bringing him into town. He found him, fortunately, + just coming home, bringing in a cart loaded with straw; and, taking him + aside, he asked him,— + </p> + <p> + “Will you render M. de Boiscoran a great service?” + </p> + <p> + “What must I do?” replied the young man in a tone of voice which said, + better than all protestations could have done, that he was ready to do any + thing. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know Trumence?” + </p> + <p> + “The former basket-weaver of Tremblade?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, don’t I know him? He has stolen apples enough from me, the + scamp! But I don’t blame him so much, after all; for he is a good fellow, + in spite of that.” + </p> + <p> + “He was in prison at Sauveterre.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know; he had broken down a gate near Brechy and”— + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has escaped.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, the scamp!” + </p> + <p> + “And we must find him again. They have put the gendarmes on his track; but + will they catch him?” + </p> + <p> + Michael burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Never in his life!” he said. “Trumence will make his way to Oleron, where + he has friends; the gendarmes will be after him in vain.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat slapped Michael amicably on the shoulder, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “But you, if you choose? Oh! do not look angry at me. We do not want to + have him arrested. All I want you to do is to hand him a letter from me, + and to bring me back his answer.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is all, then I am your man. Just give me time to change my + clothes, and to let father know, and I am off.” + </p> + <p> + Thus M. Folgat began, as far as in him lay, to prepare for future action, + trying to counteract all the cunning measures of the prosecution by such + combinations as were suggested to him by his experience and his genius. + </p> + <p> + Did it follow from this, that his faith in ultimate success was strong + enough to make him speak of it to his most reliable friends, even, say to + Dr. Seignebos, to M. Magloire, or to good M. Mechinet? + </p> + <p> + No; for, bearing all the responsibility on his own shoulders, he had + carefully weighed the contrary chances of the terrible game in which he + proposed to engage, and in which the stakes were the honor and the life of + a man. He knew, better than anybody else, that a mere nothing might + destroy all his plans, and that Jacques’s fate was dependent on the most + trivial accident. + </p> + <p> + Like a great general on the eve of a battle, he managed to control his + feelings, affecting, for the benefit of others, a confidence which he did + not really feel, and allowing no feature of his face to betray the great + anxiety which generally kept him awake more than half the night. + </p> + <p> + And certainly it required a character of marvellous strength to remain + impassive and resolute under such circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Everybody around him was in despair, and gave up all hope. + </p> + <p> + The house of M. de Chandore, once so full of life and merriment, had + become as silent and sombre as a tomb. + </p> + <p> + The last two months had made of M. de Chandore an old man in good earnest. + His tall figure had begun to stoop, and he looked bent and broken. He + walked with difficulty, and his hands began to tremble. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis de Boiscoran had been hit even harder. He, who only a few + weeks before looked robust and hearty, now appeared almost decrepit. He + did not eat, so to say, and did not sleep. He became frightfully thin. It + gave him pain to utter a word. + </p> + <p> + As to the marchioness, the very sources of life seemed to have been sapped + within her. She had had to hear M. Magloire say that Jacques’s safety + would have been put beyond all doubt if they had succeeded in obtaining a + change of venue, or an adjournment of the trial. And it was her fault that + such a change had not been applied for. That thought was death to her. She + had hardly strength enough left to drag herself every day as far as the + jail to see her son. + </p> + <p> + The two Misses Lavarande had to bear all the practical difficulties + arising from this sore trial: they went and came, looking as pale as + ghosts, whispering in a low voice, and walking on tiptoe, as if there had + been a death in the house. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia alone showed greater energy as the troubles increased. She did + not indulge in much hope. + </p> + <p> + “I know Jacques will be condemned,” she said to M. Folgat. But she said, + also, that despair belonged to criminals only, and that the fatal mistake + for which Jacques was likely to suffer ought to inspire his friends with + nothing but indignation and thirst for vengeance. + </p> + <p> + And, while her grandfather and the Marquis de Boiscoran went out as little + as possible, she took pains to show herself in town, astonishing the + ladies “in good society” by the way in which she received their false + expressions of sympathy. But it was evident that she was only held up by a + kind of feverish excitement, which gave to her cheeks their bright color, + to her eyes their brilliancy, and to her voice its clear, silvery ring. + Ah! for her sake mainly, M. Folgat longed to end this uncertainty which is + so much more painful than the greatest misfortune. + </p> + <p> + The time was drawing near. + </p> + <p> + As Dr. Seignebos had announced, the president of the tribunal, M. Domini, + had already arrived in Sauveterre. + </p> + <p> + He was one of those men whose character is an honor to the bench, full of + the dignity of his profession, but not thinking himself infallible, firm + without useless rigor, cold and still kind-hearted, having no other + mistress but Justice, and knowing no other ambition but that of + establishing the truth. + </p> + <p> + He had examined Jacques, as he was bound to do; but the examination had + been, as it always is, a mere formality, and had led to no result. + </p> + <p> + The next step was the selection of a jury. + </p> + <p> + The jurymen had already begun to arrive from all parts of the department. + They lodged at the Hotel de France, where they took their meals in common + in the large back dining-room, which is always specially reserved for + their use. + </p> + <p> + In the afternoon one might see them, looking grave and thoughtful, take a + walk on the New-Market Square, or on the old ramparts. + </p> + <p> + M. Gransiere, also, had arrived. But he kept strictly in retirement in his + room at the Hotel de la Poste, where M. Galpin every day spent several + hours in close conference with him. + </p> + <p> + “It seems,” said Mechinet in confidence to M. Folgat,—“it seems they + are preparing an overwhelming charge.” + </p> + <p> + The day after, Dionysia opened “The Sauveterre Independent,” and found in + it an announcement of the cases set down for each day,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MONDAY..... Fraudulent bankruptcy, defalcation, forgery. + TUESDAY.... Murder, theft. + WEDNESDAY.. Infanticide, domestic theft. + THURSDAY... Incendiarism, and attempted assassination + (case of M. de Boiscoran). +</pre> + <p> + This was, therefore, the great day on which the good people of Sauveterre + expected to enjoy the most delightful emotions. Hence there was an immense + pressure brought to bear upon all the principal members of the court to + obtain tickets of admission. People who, the night before, had refused to + speak to M. Galpin, would stop him the next day in the street, and beg him + to give them a ticket, not for themselves, but for “their lady.” Finally, + the unheard-of fact became known, that tickets were openly sold for money! + One family had actually the incomprehensible courage to write to the + Marquis de Boiscoran for three tickets, promising, in return, “by their + attitude in court” to contribute to the acquittal of the accused. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of all these rumors, the city was suddenly startled by a list + of subscriptions in behalf of the families of the unfortunate firemen who + had perished in the fire at Valpinson. + </p> + <p> + Who had started this paper? M. Seneschal tried in vain to discover the + hand that had struck this blow. The secret of this treacherous trick was + well kept. But it was a most atrocious trick to revive thus, on the eve of + the trial, such mournful memories and such bitter hatred. + </p> + <p> + “That man Galpin had a hand in it,” said Dr. Seignebos, grinding his + teeth. “And to think that he may, after all, be triumphant! Ah, why did + not Goudar commence his experiment a little sooner?” + </p> + <p> + For Goudar, while assuring everybody of certain success, asked for time. + To disarm the mistrust of an idiot like Cocoleu was not the work of a day + or a week. He declared, that, if he should be overhasty, he would most + assuredly ruin every thing. + </p> + <p> + Otherwise, nothing new occurred. + </p> + <p> + Count Claudieuse was getting rather better. + </p> + <p> + The agent in Jersey had telegraphed that he was on Suky’s track; that he + would certainly catch her, but that he could not say when. + </p> + <p> + Michael, finally, had in vain searched the whole district, and been all + over Oleron; no one had been able to give him any news of Trumence. + </p> + <p> + Thus, on the day when the session began, a council was held, in which all + of Jacques’s friends took part; and here it was resolved that his counsel + would not mention the name of the Countess Claudieuse, and would, even if + the count should offer to give evidence, adhere to the plan of defence + suggested by M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + Alas! the chances of success seemed hourly to diminish; for the jury, very + much against the usual experience, appeared to be excessively severe. The + bankrupt was sentenced to twenty years’ hard labor. The man accused of + murder could not even obtain the plea of “extenuating circumstances,” and + was sentenced to death. + </p> + <p> + This was on Wednesday. + </p> + <p> + It was decided that M. de Chandore and the Marquis and the Marchioness de + Boiscoran should attend the trial. They wanted to spare Dionysia the + terrible excitement; but she declared that, in that case, she should go + alone to the court-house; and thus they were forced to submit to her will. + </p> + <p> + Thanks to an order from M. Domini, M. Folgat and M. Magloire could spend + the evening with Jacques in order to determine all the details, and to + agree upon certain replies to be given. + </p> + <p> + Jacques looked excessively pale, but was quite composed. And when his + counsel left him, saying,— + </p> + <p> + “Keep up your courage and hope,” he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Hope I have none; but courage—I assure you, I have courage!” + </p> + <p> + XXXI. + </p> + <p> + At last, in his dark cell, Jacques de Boiscoran saw the day break that was + to decide his fate. + </p> + <p> + He was to be tried to-day. + </p> + <p> + The occasion was, of course, too good to be neglected by “The Sauveterre + Independent.” Although a morning paper, it published, “in view of the + gravity of the circumstances,” an evening edition, which a dozen newsboys + cried out in the streets up to mid-night. And this was what it said,— + </p> + <p> + ASSIZES AT SAUVETERRE. THURSDAY, 23. + </p> + <p> + Presiding Judge.—M. DOMINI. + </p> + <p> + ASSASSINATION! INCENDIARISM! + </p> + <p> + [Special Correspondence of the Independent.] + </p> + <p> + Whence this unusual commotion, this uproar, this great excitement, in our + peaceful city? Whence these gatherings of our public squares, these groups + in front of all the houses! Whence this restlessness on all faces, this + anxiety in all eyes? + </p> + <p> + The reason is, that to-day this terrible Valpinson case will be brought up + in court, after having for so many weeks now agitated our people. + </p> + <p> + To-day this man who is charged with such fearful crimes is to be tried. + </p> + <p> + Hence all steps are eagerly turned towards the court-house: the people all + hurry, and rush in the same direction. + </p> + <p> + The court-house! Long before daylight it was surrounded by an eager + multitude, which the constables and the gendarmes could only with + difficulty keep within bounds. + </p> + <p> + They press and crowd and push. Coarse words fly to and fro. From words + they pass to gestures, from gestures to blows. A row is imminent. Women + cry, men swear, and two peasants from Brechy are arrested on the spot. + </p> + <p> + It is well known that there will be few only, happy enough to get in. The + great square would not contain all these curious people, who have gathered + here from all parts of the district: how should the court-room be able to + hold them? + </p> + <p> + And still our authorities, always anxious to please their constituents, + who have bestowed their confidence upon them, have resorted to heroic + measures. They have had two partition walls taken down, so that a part of + the great hall is added to the court-room proper. + </p> + <p> + M. Lautier, the city architect, who is a good judge in such matters, + assures us that this immense hall will accommodate twelve hundred persons. + </p> + <p> + But what are twelve hundred persons? + </p> + <p> + Long before the hour fixed for the opening of the court, every thing is + full to overflowing. A pin might be thrown into the room, and it could not + fall to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Not an inch of space is lost. All around, along the wall men are standing + in close ranks. On both sides of the platform, chairs have been put, which + are occupied by a large number of our first ladies in good society, not + only of Sauveterre, however, but also of the neighborhood and even other + cites. Some of them appear in magnificent toilettes. + </p> + <p> + A thousand reports are current, a thousand conjectures are formed, which + we shall take care not to report. Why should we? Let us say, however, that + the accused has not availed himself of his right to reject a certain + number of jurymen. He has accepted all the names which were drawn by lot, + and which the prosecuting attorney did not object to. + </p> + <p> + We obtained this information from an attorney, a friend of ours; and, just + as he had told us all about it, a great noise rose at the door, which was + followed by rapid moving of chairs, and half-smothered exclamations. + </p> + <p> + It was the family of the accused, who had come in, and now occupied the + seats assigned them close by the platform. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis de Boiscoran had on his arm Miss Chandore, who wore with great + grace and dignity a dark gray dress, trimmed with cherry-colored ribbons. + M. de Chandore escorted the Marchioness de Boiscoran. The marquis and the + baron looked cold and reserved. The mother of the accused appears utterly + overcome. Miss Chandore, on the contrary, is lively, does not seem in the + least concerned, and returns with a bright smile the few greetings she + receives from various parts of the court-room. + </p> + <p> + But soon they are no longer an object of curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The attention of all is now directed towards a large table standing before + the judges, and on which may be seen a number of articles covered by large + red cloth. + </p> + <p> + These are the articles to be used in evidence. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime it strikes eleven o’clock. The sheriff’s officers move + about the room, seeing that every thing is in order. + </p> + <p> + Then a small door opens on the left, and the counsel for the defence + enter. + </p> + <p> + Our readers know who they are. One is M. Magloire, the ornament of our + bar; the other, an advocate from the capital, M. Folgat, quite young, but + already famous. + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire looks as he does on his best days, and smilingly converses + with the mayor of Sauveterre; while M. Folgat opens his blue bag, and + consults his papers. + </p> + <p> + Half-past eleven! + </p> + <p> + An usher announces,— + </p> + <p> + The court. + </p> + <p> + M. Domini takes the chair. M. Gransiere occupies the seat of the + prosecuting attorney. + </p> + <p> + Behind them the jurymen sit down, looking grave and solemn. + </p> + <p> + Everybody rises, everybody strains his eyes to see, and stands on tiptoe. + Some persons in the back rows even get upon their chairs. + </p> + <p> + The president has ordered the prisoner to be brought in. + </p> + <p> + He appears. + </p> + <p> + He is dressed in black, and with great elegance. It is noticed that he + wears in his buttonhole the ribbon of the Legion of Honor. + </p> + <p> + He looks pale; but his eye is clear and open, full of confidence, yet not + defiant. His carriage is proud, though melancholy. + </p> + <p> + He has hardly taken his seat when a gentleman passes over three rows of + chairs, and, in spite of the officers of the court, succeeds in shaking + hands with him. It is Dr. Seignebos. + </p> + <p> + The president orders the sheriff to proclaim silence; and, after having + reminded the audience that all expressions of approbation or + disapprobation are strictly prohibited, he turns to the accused, and asks + him,— + </p> + <p> + “Tell me your first names, your family name, your age, your profession, + and your domicile.” + </p> + <p> + The accused replies,— + </p> + <p> + “Louis Trivulce Jacques de Boiscoran, twenty-seven years, land-owner, + residing at Boiscoran, district of Sauveterre.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, and listen to the charges which are brought against you.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk, M. Mechinet, thereupon reads the charges, which, in their + terrible simplicity, cause a shudder to pass through the whole audience. + </p> + <p> + We shall not repeat them here, as all the incidents which they relate are + well known to our readers. + </p> + <p> + [Examination of the Accused.] + </p> + <p> + PRESIDENT.—Accused, rise and answer clearly. During the preliminary + investigation, you have refused to answer several questions. Now the + matter must be cleared up. And I am bound to tell you it is to your + interest to answer frankly. + </p> + <p> + ACCUSED.—No one desires more than I do that the truth be known. I am + ready to answer. + </p> + <p> + P.—Why were you so reticent in your first examination? + </p> + <p> + A.—I though it important for my interests to answer only in court. + </p> + <p> + P.—You have heard of what crimes you are accused? + </p> + <p> + A.—I am innocent. And, first of all, I beg you will allow me to say + one thing. The crime committed at Valpinson is an atrocious, cowardly + crime; but it is at the same time an absurdly stupid crime, more like the + unconscious act of a madman. Now, I have always been looked upon as not + lacking exactly in intelligence. + </p> + <p> + P.—That is a discussion. + </p> + <p> + A.—Still, Mr. President— + </p> + <p> + P.—Hereafter you shall have full liberty to state your argument. For + the present you must be content to answer the questions which I shall ask + you. + </p> + <p> + A.—I submit. + </p> + <p> + P.—Were you not soon to be married? + </p> + <p> + At this question all eyes are turned towards Miss Chandore, who blushes + till she is as red as a poppy, but does not cast down her eyes. + </p> + <p> + A.—(In a low voice.) Yes. + </p> + <p> + P.—Did you not write to your betrothed a few hours before the crime + was committed? + </p> + <p> + A.—Yes, sir; and I sent her my letter by the son of one of my + tenants, Michael. + </p> + <p> + P.—What did you write to her? + </p> + <p> + A.—That important business would prevent me from spending the + evening with her. + </p> + <p> + P.—What was that business? + </p> + <p> + At the moment when the accused opened his lips to reply, the president + stopped him by a gesture, and said,— + </p> + <p> + P.—Take care! You were asked this question during the preliminary + investigation, and you replied that you had to go to Brechy to see your + wood-merchant. + </p> + <p> + A.—I did indeed make that reply on the spur of the moment. It was + not exact. + </p> + <p> + P.—Why did you tell a falsehood? + </p> + <p> + A.—(After an expression of indignation, which was noticed by all.) I + could not believe that I was in danger. It seemed to me impossible that I + should be reached by an accusation, which nevertheless, has brought me + into this court. Hence I did not deem it necessary to make my private + affairs public. + </p> + <p> + P.—But you very soon found out that you were in danger? + </p> + <p> + A.—Yes, I did. + </p> + <p> + P.—Why did you not tell the truth then? + </p> + <p> + A.—Because the magistrate who carried on the investigation had been + too intimate a friend of mine to inspire me with confidence. + </p> + <p> + P.—Explain yourself more fully. + </p> + <p> + A.—I must ask leave to say no more. I might, in speaking of M. + Galpin, be found to be wanting in moderation. + </p> + <p> + A low murmur accompanies this reply made by the accused. + </p> + <p> + P.—Such murmurs are improper, and I remind the audience of the + respect due to the court. + </p> + <p> + M. Gransiere, the prosecuting attorney, rises,— + </p> + <p> + “We cannot tolerate such recriminations against a magistrate who has done + his duty nobly, and in spite of the pain it caused him. If the accused had + well-founded objections to the magistrate, why did he not make them known? + He cannot plead ignorance: he knows the law, he is a lawyer himself. His + counsel, moreover, are men of experience.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire replies, in his seat,— + </p> + <p> + “We were of the opinion that the accused ought to ask for a change of + venue. He declined to follow our advice, being confident, as he said, that + his cause was a good one.” + </p> + <p> + M. Gransiere, resuming his seat,— + </p> + <p> + “The jury will judge of this plea.” + </p> + <p> + P.—(To the accused.) And now are you ready to tell the truth with + regard to that business which prevented you from spending the evening with + your betrothed? + </p> + <p> + A.—Yes, sir. My wedding was to take place at the church in Brechy, + and I had to make my arrangements with the priest about the ceremony. I + had, besides, to fulfil certain religious duties. The priest at Brechy, + who is a friend of mine, will tell you, that, although no day had been + fixed, it had been agreed upon between us that I should come to confession + on one of the evenings of the week since he insisted upon it. + </p> + <p> + The audience, which had been expecting some very exciting revelations, + seemed to be much disappointed; and ironical laughter was heard in various + directions. + </p> + <p> + P.—(In a severe tone of voice.) This laughter is indecent and + objectionable. Sheriff, take out the persons who presume to laugh. And + once more I give notice, that, at the first disturbance, I shall order the + room to be cleared. + </p> + <p> + Then, turning again to the accused, he said,— + </p> + <p> + P.—Go on! + </p> + <p> + A.—I went therefore to the priest at Brechy, that evening: unluckily + there was no one at home at the parsonage when I got there. I was ringing + the third or fourth time in vain, when a little peasant-girl came by, who + told me that she had just met the priest at the Marshalls’ Cross-roads. I + thought at once I would go and meet him, and went in that direction. But I + walked more than four miles without meeting him. I thought the girl must + have been mistaken, and went home again. + </p> + <p> + P.—Is that your explanation? + </p> + <p> + A.—Yes. + </p> + <p> + P.—And you think it a plausible one? + </p> + <p> + A.—I have promised to say not what is plausible, but what is true. I + may confess, however, that, precisely because the explanation is so + simple, I did not venture at first to give it. And yet if no crime had + been committed, and I had said the day after, “Yesterday I went to see the + priest at Brechy, and did not find him,” who would have seen any thing + unnatural in my statement? + </p> + <p> + P.—And, in order to fulfil so simple a duty, you chose a roundabout + way, which is not only troublesome, but actually dangerous, right across + the swamps? + </p> + <p> + A.—I chose the shortest way. + </p> + <p> + P.—Then, why were you so frightened upon meeting young Ribot at the + Seille Canal? + </p> + <p> + A.—I was not frightened, but simply surprised, as one is apt to be + when suddenly meeting a man where no one is expected. And, if I was + surprised, young Ribot was not less so. + </p> + <p> + P.—You see that you hoped to meet no one? + </p> + <p> + A.—Pardon me, I did not say so. To expect is not the same as to + hope. + </p> + <p> + P.—Why, then did you take such pains to explain your being there? + </p> + <p> + A.—I gave no explanations. Young Ribot first told me, laughingly, + where he was going, and then I told him that I was going to Brechy. + </p> + <p> + P.—You told him, also, that you were going through the marshes to + shoot birds, and, at the same time you showed him your gun? + </p> + <p> + A.—That may be. But is that any proof against me? I think just the + contrary. If I had had such criminal intentions as the prosecution + suggests, I should certainly have gone back after meeting people, knowing + that I was exposed to great danger. But I was only going to see my friend, + the priest. + </p> + <p> + P.—And for such a visit you took your gun? + </p> + <p> + A.—My land lies in the woods and marshes, and there was not a day + when I did not bag a rabbit or a waterfowl. Everybody in the neighborhood + will tell you that I never went out without a gun. + </p> + <p> + P.—And on your return, why did you go through the forest of + Rochepommier? + </p> + <p> + A.—Because, from the place where I was on the road, it was probably + the shortest way to Boiscoran. I say probably, because just then I did not + think much about that. A man who is taking a walk would be very much + embarrassed, in the majority of cases, if he had to give a precise account + why he took one road rather than another. + </p> + <p> + P.—You were seen in the forest by a woodcutter, called Gaudry? + </p> + <p> + A.—So I was told by the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + P.—That witness deposes that you were in a state of great + excitement. You were tearing leaves from the branches, you were talking + loud. + </p> + <p> + A.—I certainly was very much vexed at having lost my evening, and + particularly vexed at having relied on the little peasant-girl. It is + quite likely that I might have exclaimed, as I walked along, “Plague upon + my friend, the priest, who goes and dines in town!” or some such words. + </p> + <p> + There was a smile in the assembly, but not such as to attract the + president’s attention. + </p> + <p> + P.—You know that the priest of Brechy was dining out that day? + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire rose, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “It is through us, sir, that the accused has found out this fact. When he + told us how he had spent the evening, we went to see the priest at Brechy, + who told us how it came about that neither he nor his old servant was at + the parsonage. At our request the priest has been summoned. We shall also + produce another priest, who at that time passed the Marshalls’ + Cross-roads, and was the one whom the little girl had seen.” + </p> + <p> + Having made a sign to counsel to sit down again, the president once more + turns to the accused. + </p> + <p> + P.—The woman Courtois who met you deposes that you looked very + curious. You did not speak to her: you were in great haste to escape from + her. + </p> + <p> + A.—The night was much too dark for the woman to see my face. She + asked me to render her a slight service, and I did so. I did not speak to + her, because I had nothing to say to her. I did not leave her suddenly, + but only got ahead of her, because her ass walked very slowly. + </p> + <p> + At a sign from the president, the ushers raise the red cloth which cover + the objects on the table. + </p> + <p> + Great curiosity is manifested by the whole audience; and all rise, and + stretch their necks to see better. On the table are displayed clothes, a + pair of velveteen trousers, a shooting-jacket of maroon-colored velveteen, + an old straw hat, and a pair of dun-colored leather boots. By their side + lie a double-barrelled gun, packages of cartridges, two bowls filled with + small-shot, and, finally, a large china basin, with a dark sediment at the + bottom. + </p> + <p> + P.—(Showing these objects to the accused.) Are those the clothes + which you wore the evening of the crime? + </p> + <p> + A.—Yes, sir. + </p> + <p> + P.—A curious costume in which to visit a venerable ecclesiastic, and + to perform religious duties. + </p> + <p> + A.—The priest at Brechy was my friend. Our intimacy will explain, + even if it does not justify, the liberty I took. + </p> + <p> + P.—Do you also recognize this basin? The water has been allowed to + evaporate, and the residue alone remains there on the bottom. + </p> + <p> + A.—It is true, that, when the magistrate appeared at my house, he + found there the basin full of dark water, which was thick with half-burnt + <i>debris</i>. He asked me about this water, and I did not hesitate a + moment to tell him that I had washed my hands in it the evening before, + after my return home. + </p> + <p> + Is it not evident, that if I had been guilty, my first effort would have + been to put every evidence of my crime out of the way? And yet this + circumstance is looked upon as the strongest evidence of my guilt, and the + prosecution produces it as the most serious charge against me. + </p> + <p> + P.—It is very strong and serious indeed. + </p> + <p> + A.—Well, nothing can be more easily explained than that. I am a + great smoker. When I left home the evening of the crime, I took cigars in + abundance; but, when I was about to light one, I found that I had no + matches. + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire rises, and says,— + </p> + <p> + “And I wish to point out that this is not one of those explanations which + are invented, after the fact, to meet the necessities of a doubtful case. + We have absolute and overwhelming proof of it. M. de Boiscoran did not + have the little match-box which he usually carries about him, at that + time, because he had left it at M. de Chandore’s house, on the + mantelpiece, where I have seen it, and where it still is.” + </p> + <p> + P.—That is sufficient, M. Magloire. Let the defendant go on. + </p> + <p> + A.—I wanted to smoke; and so I resorted to the usual expedient, + which all sportsmen know. I tore open one of my cartridges, put, instead + of the lead, a piece of paper inside, and set it on fire. + </p> + <p> + P.—And thus you get a light? + </p> + <p> + A.—Not always, but certainly in one case out of three. + </p> + <p> + P.—And the operation blackens the hands? + </p> + <p> + A.—Not the operation itself. But, when I had lit my cigar, I could + not throw away the burning paper as it was: I might have kindled a regular + fire. + </p> + <p> + P.—In the marshes? + </p> + <p> + A.—But, sir, I smoked five or six cigars during the evening, which + means that I had to repeat the operation a dozen times at least, and in + different places,—in the woods and on the high-road. Each time I + quenched the fire with my fingers; and, as the powder is always greasy, my + hands naturally became soon as black as those of a charcoal-burner. + </p> + <p> + The accused gives this explanation in a perfectly natural but still rather + excited manner, which seems to make a great impression. + </p> + <p> + P.—Let us go on to your gun. Do you recognize it? + </p> + <p> + A.—Yes, sir. May I look at it? + </p> + <p> + P.—Yes. + </p> + <p> + The accused takes up the gun with feverish eagerness, snaps the two cocks, + and puts one of his fingers inside the barrels. + </p> + <p> + He turns crimson, and, bending down to his counsel, says a few words to + them so quickly and so low, that they do not reach us. + </p> + <p> + P.—What is the matter? + </p> + <p> + M. MAGLOIRE.—(Rising.) A fact has become patent which at once + establishes the innocence of M. de Boiscoran. By providential + intercession, his servant Anthony had cleaned the gun two days before the + day of the crime. It appears now that one of the barrels is still clean, + and in good condition. Hence it cannot be M. de Boiscoran who has fired + twice at Count Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + During this time the accused has gone up to the table on which the objects + are lying. He wraps his handkerchief around the ramrod, slips it into one + of the barrels, draws it out again, and shows that it is hardly soiled. + </p> + <p> + The whole audience is in a state of great excitement. + </p> + <p> + P.—Do the same thing to the other barrel. + </p> + <p> + The accused does it. The handkerchief remains clean. + </p> + <p> + P.—You see, and still you have told us that you had burnt, perhaps, + a dozen cartridges to light your cigars. But the prosecution had foreseen + this objection, and they are prepared to meet it. Sheriff, bring in the + witness, Maucroy. + </p> + <p> + Our readers all know this gentleman, whose beautiful collection of + weapons, sporting-articles, and fishing-tackle, is one of the ornaments of + our great Square. He is dressed up, and without hesitation takes the + required oath. + </p> + <p> + P.—Repeat your deposition with regard to this gun. + </p> + <p> + WITNESS.—It is an excellent gun, and very costly: such guns are not + made in France, where people are too economical. + </p> + <p> + At this answer the whole audience laughs. M. Maucroy is not exactly famous + for cheap bargains. Even some of the jurymen can hardly control their + laughter. + </p> + <p> + P.—Never mind your reflections on that object. Tell us only what you + know about the peculiarities of this gun. + </p> + <p> + WITNESS.—Well, thanks to a peculiar arrangement of the cartridges, + and thanks, also, to the special nature of the fulminating material, the + barrels hardly ever become foul. + </p> + <p> + A.—(Eagerly.) You are mistaken, sir. I have myself cleaned my gun + frequently; and I have, just on the contrary, found the barrels extremely + foul. + </p> + <p> + WITNESS.—Because you had fired too often. But I mean to say that you + can use up two or three cartridges without a trace being left in the + barrels. + </p> + <p> + A.—I deny that positively. + </p> + <p> + P.—(To witness.) And if a dozen cartridges were burnt? + </p> + <p> + WITNESS.—Oh, then, the barrels would be very foul. + </p> + <p> + P.—Examine the barrels, and tell us what you see. + </p> + <p> + WITNESS.—(After a minute examination.) I declare that two cartridges + cannot have been used since the gun was cleaned. + </p> + <p> + P.—(To the accused.) Well, what becomes of that dozen cartridges + which you have used up to light your cigars, and which had blackened your + hands so badly? + </p> + <p> + M. MAGLOIRE.—The question is too serious to be left entirely in the + hands of a single witness. + </p> + <p> + THE PROSECUTING ATTORNEY.—We only desire the truth. It is easy to + make an experiment. + </p> + <p> + WITNESS.—Oh, certainly! + </p> + <p> + P.—Let it be done. + </p> + <p> + Witness puts a cartridge into each barrel, and goes to the window to + explode them. The sudden explosion is followed by the screams of several + ladies. + </p> + <p> + WITNESS.—(Returning, and showing that the barrels are no more foul + than they were before.) Well, you see I was right. + </p> + <p> + P.—(To the accused.) You see this circumstance on which you relied + so securely, so far from helping you, only proves that your explanation of + the blackened state of your hands was a falsehood. + </p> + <p> + Upon the president’s order, witness is taken out, and the examination of + the accused is continued. + </p> + <p> + P.—What were your relations with Count Claudieuse? + </p> + <p> + A.—We had no intercourse with each other. + </p> + <p> + P.—But it was known all over the country that you hated him? + </p> + <p> + A.—That is a mistake. I declare, upon my honor, that I always looked + upon him as the best and most honorable of men. + </p> + <p> + P.—There, at least, you agree with all who knew him. Still you are + at law with him? + </p> + <p> + A.—I have inherited that suit from my uncle, together with his + fortune. I carried it on, but very quietly. I asked for nothing better + than a compromise. + </p> + <p> + P.—And, when Count Claudieuse refused, you were incensed? + </p> + <p> + A.—No. + </p> + <p> + P.—You were so irritated against him, that you once actually aimed + your gun at him. At another time you said, “He will not leave me alone + till I put a ball into him.” Do not deny! You will hear what the witnesses + say. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon, the accused resumes his place. He looks as confident as ever, + and carries his head high. He has entirely overcome any feeling of + discouragement, and converses with his counsel in the most composed + manner. + </p> + <p> + There can be no doubt, that, at this stage of the proceedings, public + opinion is on his side. He has won the good-will even of those who came + there strongly prejudiced. No one can help being impressed by his proud + but mournful expression of fate; and all are touched by the extreme + simplicity of his answers. + </p> + <p> + Although the discussion about the gun has not turned out to his advantage, + it does not seem to have injured him. People are eagerly discussing the + question of the fouling of guns. A number of incredulous persons, whom the + experiment has not convinced, maintain that M. Maucroy has been too rash + in his statements. Others express surprise at the reserve shown by + counsel,—less by that of M. Folgat, who is unknown here, than by + that of M. Magloire, who usually allows no opportunity to escape, but is + sure to profit by the smallest incident. + </p> + <p> + The proceedings are not exactly suspended; but there is a pause, whilst + the ushers cover the articles on the table once more with red cloth, and, + after several comings and goings, roll a large arm-chair in front of the + judge’s seat. + </p> + <p> + At last one of the ushers comes up to the president, and whispers + something into his ear. + </p> + <p> + The president only nods his head. + </p> + <p> + When the usher has left the room, M. Domini says,— + </p> + <p> + “We shall now proceed to hear the witnesses, and we propose to begin with + Count Claudieuse. Although seriously indisposed, he has preferred to + appear in court.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Dr. Seignebos is seen to start up, as if he wished to + address the court; but one of his friends, sitting by him, pulls him down + by his coat. M. Folgat makes a sign to him, and he sits down again. + </p> + <p> + P.—Sheriff, bring in Count Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + [Examination of Witnesses.] + </p> + <p> + The small door through which the armorer Maucroy had been admitted opens + once more, and Count Claudieuse enters. Supported and almost carried by + his man-servant. + </p> + <p> + He is greeted by a murmur of sympathetic pity. He is frightfully thin; and + his features look as haggard as if he were about to give up the ghost. The + whole vitality of his system seems to have centred in his eyes, which + shine with extraordinary brilliancy. + </p> + <p> + He takes the oath in an almost inaudible voice. + </p> + <p> + But the silence is so deep, that when the president asks him the usual + question, “Do you swear to tell the whole truth?” and he answers, “I + swear,” the words are distinctly heard all over the court-room. + </p> + <p> + P.—(Very kindly.) We are very much obliged to you, sir, for the + effort which you have made. That chair has been brought in for you: please + sit down. + </p> + <p> + COUNT CLAUDIEUSE.—I thank you, sir; but I am strong enough to stand. + </p> + <p> + P.—Please tell us, then, what you know of the attempt made on your + life. + </p> + <p> + C.C.—It might have been eleven o’clock: I had gone to bed a little + while before, and blown out my light. I was in that half state which is + neither waking nor sleeping, when I saw my room lighted up by a dazzling + glare. I saw it was fire. I jumped out of bed, and, only lightly dressed, + rushed down the stairs. I found some difficulty in opening the outer door, + which I had locked myself. At last I succeeded. But I had no sooner put my + foot outside than I felt a terrible pain in my right side, and at the same + time I heard an explosion of fire-arms. Instinctively I rushed towards the + place from which the shot seemed to have been fired; but, before I had + taken three steps, I was struck once more in my shoulder, and fell down + unconscious. + </p> + <p> + P.—How long a time was there between the first and the second shots? + </p> + <p> + C.C.—Almost three or four seconds. + </p> + <p> + P.—Was that time enough to distinguish the murderer? + </p> + <p> + C.C.—Yes; and I saw him run from behind a wood-pile, where he had + been lying in ambush, and escape into the country. + </p> + <p> + P.—You can tell us, no doubt, how he was dressed? + </p> + <p> + C.C.—Certainly. He had on a pair of light gray trousers, a dark + coat, and a large straw hat. + </p> + <p> + At a sign from the president, and in the midst of the most profound + silence, the ushers remove the red cloth from the table. + </p> + <p> + P.—(Pointing at the clothes of the accused.) Does the costume which + you describe correspond with those cloths? + </p> + <p> + C.C.—Of course; for they are the same. + </p> + <p> + P.—Then you must have recognized the murderer. + </p> + <p> + C.C.—The fire was so large at that time, that it was as bright as + daylight. I recognized M. Jacques de Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + There was, probably, in the whole vast audience assembled under that roof, + not a heart that was not seized with unspeakable anguish when these + crushing words were uttered. + </p> + <p> + We were so fully prepared for them, that we could watch the accused + closely. + </p> + <p> + Not a muscle in his face seemed to move. His counsel showed as little any + signs of surprise or emotion. + </p> + <p> + Like ourselves, the president also, and the prosecuting attorney, had been + watching the accused and his counsel. Did they expect a protest, an + answer, any thing at all? Perhaps they did. + </p> + <p> + But, as nothing came, the president continued, turning to witness,— + </p> + <p> + P.—Your declaration is a very serious one, sir. + </p> + <p> + C.C.—I know its weight. + </p> + <p> + P.—It is entirely different from your first deposition made before + the investigating magistrate. + </p> + <p> + C.C.—It is. + </p> + <p> + P.—When you were examined a few hours after the crime, you declared + that you had not recognized the murderer. More than that, when M. de + Boiscoran’s name was mentioned, you seemed to be indignant of such a + suspicion, and almost became surety yourself for his innocence. + </p> + <p> + C.C.—That was contrary to truth. I felt a very natural sense of + commiseration, and tried to save a man who belonged to a highly esteemed + family from disgraceful punishment. + </p> + <p> + P.—But now? + </p> + <p> + C.C.—Now I see that I was wrong, and that the law ought to have its + course. And this is my reason for coming here,—although afflicted by + a disease which never spares, and on the point of appearing before God—in + order to tell you M. de Boiscoran is guilty. I recognized him. + </p> + <p> + P.—(To the accused.) Do you hear? + </p> + <p> + The accused rises and says,— + </p> + <p> + A.—By all that is dear and sacred to me in the world, I swear that I + am innocent. Count Claudieuse says he is about to appear before God: I + appeal to the justice of God. + </p> + <p> + Sobs well-nigh drown the voice of the accused. The Marchioness de + Boiscoran is overcome by a nervous attack. She is carried out stiff and + inanimate; and Dr. Seignebos and Miss Chandore hasten after her. + </p> + <p> + A.—(To Count Claudieuse.) You have killed my mother! + </p> + <p> + Certainly, all who had hoped for scenes of thrilling interest were not + disappointed. Everybody looks overcome with excitement. Tears appear in + the eyes of almost all the ladies. + </p> + <p> + And yet those who watch the glances which are exchanged between M. de + Boiscoran and Count Claudieuse cannot help asking themselves, if there is + not something else between these two men, besides what the trial has made + known. We cannot explain to ourselves these singular answers given to the + president’s questions, nor does any one understand the silence observed by + M. de Boiscoran’s counsel. Do they abandon their client? No; for we see + them go up to him, shake hands with him, and lavish upon him every sign of + friendly consolation and encouragement. + </p> + <p> + We may even be permitted to say, that, to all appearances, the president + himself and the prosecuting attorney were, for a moment, perfectly + overcome with surprise. At all events, we thought so at the moment. + </p> + <p> + But the president continues,— + </p> + <p> + P.—I have but just been asking the accused, count, whether there was + any ground of enmity between you. + </p> + <p> + C.C.—(In a steadily declining voice.) I know no other ground except + our lawsuit about a little stream of water. + </p> + <p> + P.—Has not the accused once threatened to fire at you? + </p> + <p> + C.C.—Yes; but I did not think he was in earnest, and I never + resented the matter. + </p> + <p> + P. Do you persist in your declaration? + </p> + <p> + C.C.—I do. And once more, upon my oath, I declare solemnly that I + recognized, in such a manner as to prevent any possible mistake, M. + Jacques Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + It was evidently time that Count Claudieuse should end his evidence. He + begins to totter; his eyes close; his head rolls from side to side; and + two ushers have to come to his assistance to enable him, with the help of + his own servant, to leave the room. + </p> + <p> + Is the Countess Claudieuse to be called next? + </p> + <p> + It was thought so; but it was not so. The countess being kept by the + bedside of one of her daughters, who is most dangerously ill, will not be + called at all; and the clerk of the court is ordered to read her + deposition. + </p> + <p> + Although her description of the terrible event is very graphic, it + contains no new facts, and will remain without influence on the + proceedings. + </p> + <p> + The next witness is Ribot. + </p> + <p> + This is a fine handsome countryman, a regular village cock, with a + pink-and-blue cravat around his neck, and a huge gold chain dangling from + his watch-pocket. He seems to be very proud of his appearance and looks + around with an air of the most perfect self-satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + In the same way he relates his meeting with the accused in a tone of great + importance. He knows every thing and explains every thing. With a little + encouragement he would, no doubt, declare that the accused had confided to + him all his plans of incendiarism and murder. His answers are almost all + received with great hilarity, which bring down upon the audience another + and very severe reprimand from the president. + </p> + <p> + The witness Gaudry, who succeeds him, is a small, wretched-looking man, + with a false and timid eye, who exhausts himself in bows and scrapes. + Quite different from Ribot, he seems to have forgotten every thing. It is + evident he is afraid of committing himself. He praises the count; but he + does not speak the less well of M. de Boiscoran. He assures the court of + his profound respect for them all,—for the ladies and gentlemen + present, for everybody, in fine. + </p> + <p> + The woman Courtois, who comes next, evidently wishes she were a thousand + miles away. The president has to make the very greatest efforts to obtain, + word by word, her evidence, which, after all, amounts to next to nothing. + </p> + <p> + Then follow two farmers from Brechy, who have been present at the violent + altercation which ended in M. de Boiscoran’s aiming with his gun at Count + Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + Their account, interrupted by numberless parentheses, is very obscure. One + of the counsel of the defendant requests them to be more explicit; and + thereupon they become utterly unintelligible. Besides, they contradict + each other. One has looked upon the act of the accused as a mere jest: the + other has looked upon it so seriously as to throw himself between the two + men, in order to prevent M. de Boiscoran from killing his adversary then + and there. + </p> + <p> + Once more the accused protests, energetically, he never hated Count + Claudieuse: there was no reason why he should hate him. + </p> + <p> + The obstinate peasant insists upon it that a lawsuit is always a + sufficient reason for hating a man. And thereupon he undertakes to explain + the lawsuit, and how Count Claudieuse, by stopping the water of the + Seille, overflowed M. de Boiscoran’s meadows. + </p> + <p> + The president at last stops the discussion, and orders another witness to + be brought in. + </p> + <p> + This man swears he has heard M. de Boiscoran say, that, sooner or later, + he would put a ball into Count Claudieuse. He adds, that the accused is a + terrible man, who threatened to shoot people upon the slightest + provocation. And, to support his evidence, he states that once before, to + the knowledge of the whole country, M. de Boiscoran has fired at a man. + </p> + <p> + The accused undertakes to explain this. A scamp, who he thinks was no one + else but the witness on the stand, came every night and stole his tenants’ + fruit and vegetables. One night he kept watch, and gave him a load of + salt. He does not know whether he hit him. At all events, the thief never + complained, and thus was never found out. + </p> + <p> + The next witness is a constable from Brechy. He deposes that once Count + Claudieuse, by stopping up the waters of the little stream, the Seille, + had caused M. de Boiscoran a loss of twenty thousand weight of first-rate + hay. He confesses that such a bad neighbor would certainly have + exasperated him. + </p> + <p> + The prosecuting attorney does not deny the fact, but adds, that Count + Claudieuse offered to pay damages. M. de Boiscoran had refused with + insulting haughtiness. + </p> + <p> + The accused replies, that he had refused upon the advice of his lawyer, + but that he had not used insulting words. + </p> + <p> + Next appeared the witnesses summoned by the defence. + </p> + <p> + The first is the excellent priest from Brechy. He confirms the statement + of the accused. He was dining, the evening of the crime, at the house of + M. de Besson; his servant had come for him; and the parsonage was + deserted. He states that he had really arranged with M. de Boiscoran that + the latter should come some evening of that week to fulfil the religious + duties which the church requires before it allows a marriage to be + consecrated. He has known Jacques de Boiscoran from a child, and knows no + better and no more honorable man. In his opinion, that hatred, of which so + much has been said, never had any existence. He cannot believe, and does + not believe, that the accused is guilty. + </p> + <p> + The second witness is the priest of an adjoining parish. He states, that, + between nine and ten o’clock, he was on the road, near the Marshalls’ + Cross-roads. The night was quite dark. He is of the same size as the + priest at Brechy; and the little girl might very well have taken him for + the latter, thus misleading M. de Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + Three other witnesses are introduced; and then, as neither the accused nor + his counsel have any thing to add, the prosecuting attorney begins his + speech. + </p> + <p> + [The Charge.] + </p> + <p> + M. Gransiere’s eloquence is so widely known, and so justly appreciated, + that we need not refer to it here. We will only say that he surpassed + himself in this charge, which, for more than an hour, held the large + assembly in anxious and breathless suspense, and caused all hearts to + vibrate with the most intense excitement. + </p> + <p> + He commences with a description of Valpinson, “this poetic and charming + residence, where the noble old trees of Rochepommier are mirrored in the + crystal waves of the Seille. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he went on to say,—“there lived the Count and the Countess + Claudieuse,—he one of those noblemen of a past age who worshipped + honor, and were devoted to duty; she one of those women who are the glory + of their sex, and the perfect model of all domestic virtues. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven had blessed their union, and given them two children, to whom they + were tenderly attached. Fortune smiled upon their wise efforts. Esteemed + by all, cherished, and revered, they lived happy, and might have counted + upon long years of prosperity. + </p> + <p> + “But no. Hate was hovering over them. + </p> + <p> + “One evening, a fatal glare arouses the count. He rushes out; he hears the + report of a gun. He hears it a second time, and he sinks down, bathed in + his blood. The countess also is alarmed by the explosion, and hastens to + the spot: she stumbles; she sees the lifeless body of her husband, and + sinks unconscious to the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Are the children also to perish? No. Providence watches. A flash of + intelligence pierces the night of an insane man, who rushes through the + flames, and snatches the children from the fire that was already + threatening their couch. + </p> + <p> + “Their lives are saved; but the fire continues its destructive march. + </p> + <p> + “At the sound of the terrible fire-bell, all the inhabitants of the + neighboring villages hurry to the spot. But there is no one to direct + their efforts; there are no engines; and they can do nothing. + </p> + <p> + “But all of a sudden a distant rumbling sound revives hope in their + hearts. They know the fire-engines are coming. They come; they reach the + spot; and whatever men can do is done at once. + </p> + <p> + “But great God! What mean those cries of horror which suddenly rise on all + sides? The roof of the house is falling, and buries under its ruins two + men, the most zealous and most courageous of all the zealous and + courageous men,—Bolton the drummer, who had just now summoned his + neighbors to come to the rescue, and Guillebault, a father with five + children. + </p> + <p> + “High above the crash and the hissing of flames rise their heart-rending + cries. They call for help. Will they be allowed to perish? A gendarme + rushes forward, and with him a farmer from Brechy. But their heroism is + useless: the monster keeps its prey. The two men also are apparently + doomed; and only by unheard-of efforts, and at great peril of life, can + they be rescued from the furnace. But they are so grievously wounded, that + they will remain infirm for the rest of their lives, compelled to appeal + to public charity for their subsistence.” + </p> + <p> + Then the prosecuting attorney proceeds to paint the whole of the disaster + at Valpinson in the sombrest colors, and with all the resources of his + well-known eloquence. He describes the Countess Claudieuse as she kneels + by the side of her dying husband, while the crowd is eagerly pressing + around the wounded man and struggling with the flames for the charred + remains of the unfortunate firemen. With increasing vehemence, he says + next,— + </p> + <p> + “And during all this time what becomes of the author of these fearful + misdeeds? When his hatred is gratified, he flees through the wood, and + returns to his home. Remorse, there is none. As soon as he reaches the + house, he eats, drinks, smokes his cigar. His position in the country is + such, and the precautionary measures he had taken appear to him so well + chosen, that he thinks he is above suspicion. He is calm. He feels so + perfectly safe, that he neglects the commonest precautions, and does not + even take the trouble of pouring out the water in which he has washed his + hands, blackened as they are by the fire he has just kindled. + </p> + <p> + “He forgets that Providence whose torch on great occasions illumines and + guides human justice. + </p> + <p> + “And how, indeed, could the law ever have expected to find the guilty man + in one of the most magnificent chateaux of the country but for a direct + intervention of Providence? + </p> + <p> + “For the incendiary, the assassin, was actually there, at the Chateau + Boiscoran. + </p> + <p> + “And let no one come and tell us that the past life of Jacques de + Boiscoran is such as to protect him against the formidable charges that + are brought against him. We know his past life. + </p> + <p> + “A perfect model of those idle young men who spend in riotous living a + fortune painfully amassed by their fathers, Jacques de Boiscoran had not + even a profession. Useless to society, a burden to himself, he passed + through life like a ship without rudder and without compass, indulging in + all kinds of unhealthy fashions in order to spend the hours that were + weighing heavily upon him. + </p> + <p> + “And yet he was ambitious; but his ambition lay in the direction of those + dangerous and wicked intrigues which inevitably lead men to crime. + </p> + <p> + “Hence we see him mixed up with all those sterile and wanton party + movements which discredit our days, uttering over and over again hollow + phrases in condemnation of all that is noble and sacred, appealing to the + most execrable passions of the multitude”— + </p> + <p> + M. MAGLOIRE.—If this is a political affair, we ought to be informed + beforehand. + </p> + <p> + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.—There is no question of politics here. We speak of + the life of a man who has been an apostle of strife. + </p> + <p> + M. MAGLOIRE.—Does the attorney-general fancy he is preaching peace? + </p> + <p> + PRESIDENT.—I request counsel for the defence not to interrupt. + </p> + <p> + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.—And it is in this ambition of the accused that we + must look for a key to that terrible hatred which has led him to commit + such crimes. That lawsuit about a stream of water is a matter of + comparatively little importance. But Jacques de Boiscoran was preparing to + become a candidate for election. + </p> + <p> + A.—I never dreamed of it. + </p> + <p> + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.—(Not noticing the interruption.) He did not say + so; but his friends said it for him, and went about everywhere, repeating + that by his position, his wealth, and his opinions, he was the man best + worthy of the votes of Republicans. And he would have had an excellent + chance, if there had not stood between him and the object of his desires + Count Claudieuse, who had already more than once succeeded in defeating + similar plots. + </p> + <p> + M. MAGLOIRE.—(Warmly.) Do you refer to me? + </p> + <p> + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.—I allude to no one. + </p> + <p> + M. MAGLOIRE.—You might just as well say at once, that my friends as + well as myself are all M. de Boiscoran’s accomplices; and that we have + employed him to rid us of a formidable adversary. + </p> + <p> + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.—(Continues.) Gentlemen, this is the real motive of + the crime. Hence that hatred which the accused soon is unable to conceal + any longer, which overflows in invectives, which breaks forth in threats + of death, and which actually carries him so far that he points his gun at + Count Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + The attorney-general next passes on to examine the charges, which, he + declares, are overwhelming and irrefutable. Then he goes on,— + </p> + <p> + “But what need is there of such questions after the crushing evidence of + Count Claudieuse? You have heard it,—on the point of appearing + before God! + </p> + <p> + “His first impulse was to follow the generous nature of his heart, and to + pardon the man who had attempted his life. He desired to save him; but, as + he felt death come nearer, he saw that he had no right to shield a + criminal from the sword of justice: he remembered that there were other + victims beside himself. + </p> + <p> + “And then, rising from his bed of agony, he dragged himself here into + court, in order to tell you. ‘That is the man! By the light of the fire + which he had kindled, I saw him and recognized him. He is the man!’ + </p> + <p> + “And could you hesitate after such evidence? No! I can not and will not + believe it. After such crimes, society expects that justice should be + done,—justice in the name of Count Claudieuse on his deathbed,—justice + in the name of the dead,—justice in the name of Bolton’s mother, and + of Guillebault’s widow and her five children.” + </p> + <p> + A murmur of approbation accompanied the last words of M. Gransiere, and + continued for some time after he had concluded. There is not a woman in + the whole assembly who does not shed tears. + </p> + <p> + P.—The counsel for the defence. + </p> + <p> + [Pleading.] + </p> + <p> + As M. Magloire had so far alone taken an active part in the defence, it + was generally believed that he would speak. But it was not so. M. Folgat + rises. + </p> + <p> + Our court-house here in Sauveterre has at various times reechoed the words + of almost all our great masters of forensic eloquence. We have heard + Berryer, Dufaure, Jules Favre, and others; but, even after these + illustrious orators, M. Folgat still succeeds in astonishing and moving us + deeply. + </p> + <p> + We can, of course, report here only a few of his phrases; and we must + utterly abandon all hope of giving an idea of his proud and disdainful + attitude, his admirable manner, full of authority, and especially of his + full, rich voice, which found its way into every heart. + </p> + <p> + “To defend certain men against certain charges,” he began, “would be to + insult them. They cannot be touched. To the portrait drawn by the + prosecuting attorney, I shall simply oppose the answer given by the + venerable priest of Brechy. What did he tell you? M. de Boiscoran is the + best and most honorable of men. There is the truth; they wish to make him + out a political intriguant. He had, it is true, a desire to be useful to + his country. But, while others debated, he acted. The Sauveterre + Volunteers will tell you to what passions he appealed before the enemy, + and by what intrigues he won the cross which Chausy himself fastened to + his breast. He wanted power, you say. No: he wished for happiness. You + speak of a letter written by him, the evening of the crime, to his + betrothed. I challenge you to read it. It covers four pages: before you + have read two, you will be forced to abandon the case.” + </p> + <p> + Then the young advocate repeats the evidence given by the accused; and + really, under the influence of his eloquence, the charges seem to fall to + the ground, and to be utterly annihilated. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” he went on, “what other evidence remains there? The evidence + given by Count Claudieuse. It is crushing, you say. I say it is singular. + What! here is a witness who sees his last hour drawing nigh, and who yet + waits for the last minute of his life before he speaks. And you think that + is natural! You pretend that it was generosity which made him keep silent. + I, I ask you how the most cruel enemy could have acted more atrociously? + </p> + <p> + “‘Never was a case clearer,’ says the prosecution. On the contrary, I + maintain that never was a case more obscure; and that, so far from + fathoming the secret of the whole affair, the prosecution has not found + out the first word of it.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat takes his seat, and the sheriff’s officers have to interfere to + prevent applause from breaking out. If the vote had been taken at that + moment, M. de Boiscoran would have been acquitted. + </p> + <p> + But the proceedings are suspended for fifteen minutes; and in the meantime + the lamps are lit, for night begins to fall. + </p> + <p> + When the president resumes his chair, the attorney-general claims his + right to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not reply as I had at first proposed. Count Claudieuse is about + to pay with his life for the effort which he has made to place his + evidence before you. He could not even be carried home. He is perhaps at + this very moment drawing his last breath upon earth in the adjoining + room.” + </p> + <p> + The counsel for the defence do not desire to address the jury; and, as the + accused also declares that he has nothing more to say, the president sums + up, and the jurymen withdrew to their room to deliberate. + </p> + <p> + The heat is overwhelming, the restraint almost unbearable; and all faces + bear the marks of oppressive fatigue; but nobody thinks of leaving the + house. A thousand contradictory reports circulate through the excited + crowd. Some say that Count Claudieuse has died; others, on the contrary, + report him better, and add that he has sent for the priest from Brechy. + </p> + <p> + At last, a few minutes after nine o’clock, the jury reappears. + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran is declared guilty, and, on the score of extenuating + circumstances, sentenced to twenty years’ penal labor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THIRD PART—COCOLEU + </h2> + <p> + I. + </p> + <p> + Thus M. Galpin triumphed, and M. Gransiere had reason to be proud of his + eloquence. Jacques de Boiscoran had been found guilty. + </p> + <p> + But he looked calm, and even haughty, as the president, M. Domini, + pronounced the terrible sentence, a thousand times braver at that moment + than the man who, facing the squad of soldiers from whom he is to receive + death, refuses to have his eyes bandaged, and himself gives the word of + command with a firm voice. + </p> + <p> + That very morning, a few moments before the beginning of the trial, he had + said to Dionysia,— + </p> + <p> + “I know what is in store for me; but I am innocent. They shall not see me + turn pale, nor hear me ask for mercy.” + </p> + <p> + And, gathering up all the energy of which the human heart is capable, he + had made a supreme effort at the decisive moment, and kept his word. + </p> + <p> + Turning quietly to his counsel at the moment when the last words of the + president were lost among the din of the crowd, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Did I not tell you that the day would come when you yourself would be the + first to put a weapon into my hands?” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat rose promptly. + </p> + <p> + He showed neither the anger nor the disappointment of an advocate who has + just had a cause which he knew to be just. + </p> + <p> + “That day has not come yet,” he replied. “Remember your promise. As long + as there remains a ray of hope, we shall fight. Now we have much more than + mere hope at this moment. In less than a month, in a week, perhaps + to-morrow, we shall have our revenge.” + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate man shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I shall nevertheless have undergone the disgrace of a condemnation,” he + murmured. + </p> + <p> + The taking the ribbon of the Legion of Honor from his buttonhole, he + handed it to M. Folgat, saying— + </p> + <p> + “Keep this in memory of me, and if I never regain the right to wear it”— + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, however, the gendarmes, whose duty it was to guard the + prisoner, had risen; and the sergeant said to Jacques,— + </p> + <p> + “We must go, sir. Come, come! You need not despair. You need not lose + courage. All is not over yet. There is still the appeal for you, and then + the petition for pardon, not to speak of what may happen, and cannot be + foreseen.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was allowed to accompany the prisoner, and was getting ready to + do so; but the latter said, with a pained voice,— + </p> + <p> + “No, my friend, please leave me alone. Others have more need of your + presence than I have. Dionysia, my poor father, my mother. Go to them. + Tell them that the horror of my condemnation lies in the thought of them. + May they forgive me for the affliction which I cause them, and for the + disgrace of having me for their son, for her betrothed!” + </p> + <p> + Then, pressing the hands of his counsel, he added,— + </p> + <p> + “And you, my friends, how shall I ever express to you my gratitude? Ah! if + incomparable talents, and matchless zeal and ability, had sufficed, I know + I should be free. But instead of that”—he pointed at the little door + through which he was to pass, and said in a heartrending tone,— + </p> + <p> + “Instead of that, there is the door to the galleys. Henceforth”— + </p> + <p> + A sob cut short his words. His strength was exhausted; for if there are, + so to say, no limits to the power of endurance of the spirit, the energy + of the body has its bounds. Refusing the arm which the sergeant offered + him, he rushed out of the room. + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire was well-nigh beside himself with grief. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! why could we not save him?” he said to his young colleague. “Let them + come and speak to me again of the power of conviction. But we must not + stay here: let us go!” + </p> + <p> + They threw themselves into the crowd, which was slowly dispersing, all + palpitating yet with the excitement of the day. + </p> + <p> + A strange reaction was already beginning to set in,—a reaction + perfectly illogic, and yet intelligible, and by no means rare under + similar circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Jacques de Boiscoran, an object of general execration as long as he was + only suspected, regained the sympathy of all the moment he was condemned. + It was as if the fatal sentence had wiped out the horror of the crime. He + was pitied; his fate was deplored; and as they thought of his family, his + mother, and his betrothed, they almost cursed the severity of the judges. + </p> + <p> + Besides, even the least observant among those present had been struck by + the singular course which the proceedings had taken. There was not one, + probably, in that vast assembly who did not feel that there was a + mysterious and unexplored side of the case, which neither the prosecution + nor the defence had chosen to approach. Why had Cocoleu been mentioned + only once, and then quite incidentally? He was an idiot, to be sure; but + it was nevertheless through his evidence alone that suspicions had been + aroused against M. de Boiscoran. Why had he not been summoned either by + the prosecution or by the defence? + </p> + <p> + The evidence given by Count Claudieuse, also, although apparently so + conclusive at the moment, was now severely criticised. + </p> + <p> + The most indulgent said,— + </p> + <p> + “That was not well done. That was a trick. Why did he not speak out + before? People do not wait for a man to be down before they strike him.” + </p> + <p> + Others added,— + </p> + <p> + “And did you notice how M. de Boiscoran and Count Claudieuse looked at + each other? Did you hear what they said to each other? One might have + sworn that there was something else, something very different from a mere + lawsuit, between them.” + </p> + <p> + And on all sides people repeated,— + </p> + <p> + “At all events, M. Folgat is right. The whole matter is far from being + cleared up. The jury was long before they agreed. Perhaps M. de Boiscoran + would have been acquitted, if, at the last moment, M. Gransiere had not + announced the impending death of Count Claudieuse in the adjoining room.” + </p> + <p> + M. Magloire and M. Folgat listened to all these remarks, as they heard + them in the crowd here and there, with great satisfaction; for in spite of + all the assertions of magistrates and judges, in spite of all the + thundering condemnations against the practice, public opinion will find an + echo in the court-room; and, more frequently than we think, public opinion + does dictate the verdict of the jury. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said M. Magloire to his young colleague, “now we can be + content. I know Sauveterre by heart. I tell you public opinion is + henceforth on our side.” + </p> + <p> + By dint of perseverance they made their way, at last, out through the + narrow door of the court-room, when one of the ushers stopped them. + </p> + <p> + “They wish to see you,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “The family of the prisoner. Poor people! They are all in there, in M. + Mechinet’s office. M. Daubigeon told me to keep it for them. The + Marchioness de Boiscoran also was carried there when she was taken ill in + the court-room.” + </p> + <p> + He accompanied the two gentlemen, while telling them this, to the end of + the hall; then he opened a door, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “They are in there,” and withdrew discreetly. + </p> + <p> + There, in an easy-chair, with closed eyes, and half-open lips, lay + Jacques’s mother. Her livid pallor and her stiff limbs made her look like + a dead person; but, from time to time, spasms shook her whole body, from + head to foot. M. de Chandore stood on one side, and the marquis, her + husband, on the other, watching her with mournful eyes and in perfect + silence. They had been thunderstruck; and, from the moment when the fatal + sentence fell upon their ears, neither of them had uttered a word. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia alone seemed to have preserved the faculty of reasoning and + moving. But her face was deep purple; her dry eyes shone with a painful + light; and her body shook as with fever. As soon as the two advocates + appeared, she cried,— + </p> + <p> + “And you call this human justice?” + </p> + <p> + And, as they were silent, she added,—- + </p> + <p> + “Here is Jacques condemned to penal labor; that is to say, he is + judicially dishonored, lost, disgraced, forever cut off from human + society. He is innocent; but that does not matter. His best friends will + know him no longer: no hand will touch his hand hereafter; and even those + who were most proud of his affection will pretend to have forgotten his + name.” + </p> + <p> + “I understand your grief but too well, madam,” said M. Magloire. + </p> + <p> + “My grief is not as great as my indignation,” she broke in. “Jacques must + be avenged, and he shall be avenged! I am only twenty, and he is not + thirty yet: there is a whole life before us which we can devote to the + work of his rehabilitation; for I do not mean to abandon him. I! His + undeserved misfortunes make him a thousand times dearer to me, and almost + sacred. I was his betrothed this morning: this evening I am his wife. His + condemnation was our nuptial benediction. And if it is true, as grandpapa + says, that the law prohibits a prisoner to marry the woman he loves, well, + I will be his without marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia spoke all this aloud, so loud that it seemed she wanted all the + earth to hear what she was saying. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! let me reassure you by a single word, madam,” said M. Folgat. “We + have not yet come to that. The sentence is not final.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis de Boiscoran and M. de Chandore started. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “An oversight which M. Galpin has committed makes the whole proceeding + null and void. You will ask how a man of his character, so painstaking and + so formal, should have made such a blunder. Probably because he was + blinded by passion. Why had nobody noticed this oversight? Because fate + owed us this compensation. There can be no question about the matter. The + defect is a defect of form; and the law provides expressly for the case. + The sentence must be declared void, and we shall have another trial.” + </p> + <p> + “And you never told us anything of that?” asked Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + “We hardly dared to think of it,” replied M. Magloire. “It was one of + those secrets which we dare not confide to our own pillow. Remember, that, + in the course of the proceedings, the error might have been corrected at + any time. Now it is too late. We have time before us; and the conduct of + Count Claudieuse relieves us from all restraint of delicacy. The veil + shall be torn now.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened violently, interrupting his words. Dr. Seignebos entered, + red with anger, and darting fiery glances from under his gold spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “Count Claudieuse?” M. Folgat asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Is next door,” replied the doctor. “They have had him down on a mattress, + and his wife is by his side. What a profession ours is! Here is a man, a + wretch, whom I should be most happy to strangle with my own hands; and I + am compelled to do all I can to recall him to life: I must lavish my + attentions upon him, and seek every means to relieve his sufferings.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he any better?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all! Unless a special miracle should be performed in his behalf, + he will leave the court-house only feet forward, and that in twenty-four + hours. I have not concealed it from the countess; and I have told her, + that, if she wishes her husband to die in peace with Heaven, she has but + just time to send for a priest.” + </p> + <p> + “And has she sent for one?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all! She told me her husband would be terrified by the appearance + of a priest, and that would hasten his end. Even when the good priest from + Brechy came of his own accord, she sent him off unceremoniously.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah the miserable woman!” cried Dionysia. + </p> + <p> + And, after a moment’s reflection, she added,— + </p> + <p> + “And yet that may be our salvation. Yes, certainly. Why should I hesitate? + Wait for me here: I am coming back.” + </p> + <p> + She hurried out. Her grandpapa was about to follow her; but M. Folgat + stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Let her do it,” he said,—“let her do it!” + </p> + <p> + It had just struck ten o’clock. The court-house, just now as full and as + noisy as a bee-hive, was silent and deserted. In the immense hall, badly + lighted by a smoking lamp, there were only two men to be seen. One was the + priest from Brechy, who was praying on his knees close to a door; and the + other was the watchman, who was slowly walking up and down, and whose + steps resounded there as in a church. + </p> + <p> + Dionysia went straight up to the latter. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Count Claudieuse?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “There, madam,” replied the man, pointing at the door before which the + priest was praying,—“there, in the private office of the + commonwealth attorney.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is with him?” + </p> + <p> + “His wife, madam, and a servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go in and tell the Countess Claudieuse,—but so that her + husband does not hear you,—that Miss Chandore desires to see her a + few moments.” + </p> + <p> + The watchman made no objection, and went in. But, when he came back, he + said to the young girl,— + </p> + <p> + “Madam, the countess sends word that she cannot leave her husband, who is + very low.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped him by an impatient gesture, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “Never mind! Go back and tell the countess, that, if she does not come + out, I shall go in this moment; that, if it must be, I shall force my way + in; that I shall call for help; that nothing will keep me. I must + absolutely see her.” + </p> + <p> + “But, madam”— + </p> + <p> + “Go! Don’t you see that it is a question of life and death?” + </p> + <p> + There was such authority in her voice, that the watchman no longer + hesitated. He went in once more, and reappeared a moment after. + </p> + <p> + “Go in,” he said to the young girl. + </p> + <p> + She went in, and found herself in a little anteroom which preceded the + office of the commonwealth attorney. A large lamp illuminated the room. + The door leading to the room in which the count was lying was closed. + </p> + <p> + In the centre of the room stood the Countess Claudieuse. All these + successive blows had not broken her indomitable energy. She looked pale, + but calm. + </p> + <p> + “Since you insist upon it, madam,” she began, “I come to tell you myself + that I cannot listen to you. Are you not aware that I am standing between + two open graves,—that of my poor girl, who is dying at my house, and + that of my husband, who is breathing his last in there?” + </p> + <p> + She made a motion as if she were about to retire; but Dionysia stopped her + by a threatening look, and said with a trembling voice,— + </p> + <p> + “If you go back into that room where your husband is, I shall go back with + you, and I shall speak before him. I shall ask you right before him, how + you dare order a priest away from his bedside at the moment of death, and + whether, after having robbed him of all his happiness in life, you mean to + make him unhappy in all eternity.” + </p> + <p> + Instinctively the countess drew back. + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do understand me, madam. Why will you deny it? Do you not see + that I know every thing, and that I have guessed what you have not told + me? Jacques was your lover; and your husband has had his revenge.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried the countess, “that is too much; that is too much!” + </p> + <p> + “And you have permitted it,” Dionysia went on with breathless haste; “and + you did not come, and cry out in open court that your husband was a false + witness! What a woman you must be! You do not mind it, that your love + carries a poor unfortunate man to the galleys. You mean to live on with + this thought in your heart, that the man whom you love is innocent, and + nevertheless, disgraced forever, and cut off from human society. A priest + might induce the count to retract his statement, you know very well; and + hence you refuse to let the priest from Brechy come to his bedside. And + what is the end and aim of all your crimes? To save your false reputation + as an honest woman. Ah! that is miserable; that is mean; that is + infamous!” + </p> + <p> + The countess was roused at last. What all M. Folgat’s skill and ability + had not been able to accomplish, Dionysia obtained in an instant by the + force of her passion. Throwing aside her mask, the countess exclaimed with + a perfect burst of rage,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, no, no! I have not acted so, and permitted all this to + happen, because I care for my reputation. My reputation!—what does + it matter? It was only a week ago, when Jacques had succeeded in escaping + from prison, I offered to flee with him. He had only to say a word, and I + should have given up my family, my children, my country, every thing, for + him. He answered, ‘Rather the galleys!’” + </p> + <p> + In the midst of all her fearful sufferings, Dionysia’s heart filled with + unspeakable happiness as she heard these words. Ah! now she could no + longer doubt Jacques. + </p> + <p> + “He has condemned himself, you see,” continued the countess. “I was quite + willing to ruin myself for him, but certainly not for another woman.” + </p> + <p> + “And that other woman—no doubt you mean me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!—you for whose sake he abandoned me,—you whom he was + going to marry,—you with whom he hoped to enjoy long happy years, + and a happiness not furtive and sinful like ours, but a legitimate, honest + happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Tears were trembling in Dionysia’s eyes. She was beloved: she thought of + what she must suffer who was not beloved. + </p> + <p> + “And yet I should have been generous,” she murmured. The countess broke + out into a fierce, savage laugh. + </p> + <p> + “And the proof of it is,” said the young girl, “that I came to offer you a + bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “A bargain?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Save Jacques, and, by all that is sacred to me in the world, I + promise I will enter a convent: I will disappear, and you shall never hear + my name any more.” + </p> + <p> + Intense astonishment seized the countess, and she looked at Dionysia with + a glance full of doubt and mistrust. Such devotion seemed to her too + sublime not to conceal some snare. + </p> + <p> + “You would really do that?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Unhesitatingly.” + </p> + <p> + “You would make a great sacrifice for my benefit?” + </p> + <p> + “For yours? No, madam, for Jacques’s.” + </p> + <p> + “You love him very dearly, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I love him dearly enough to prefer his happiness to my own a thousand + times over. Even if I were buried in the depths of a convent, I should + still have the consolation of knowing that he owed his rehabilitation to + me; and I should suffer less in knowing that he belonged to another than + that he was innocent, and yet condemned.” + </p> + <p> + But, in proportion as the young girl thus confirmed her sincerity, the + brow of the countess grew darker and sterner, and passing blushes mantled + her cheek. At last she said with haughty irony,— + </p> + <p> + “Admirable!” + </p> + <p> + “Madam!” + </p> + <p> + “You condescend to give up M. de Boiscoran. Will that make him love me? + You know very well he will not. You know that he loves you alone. Heroism + with such conditions is easy enough. What have you to fear? Buried in a + convent, he will love you only all the more ardently, and he will execrate + me all the more fervently.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall never know any thing of our bargain!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! What does that matter? He will guess it, if you do not tell him. No: + I know what awaits me. I have felt it now for two years,—this agony + of seeing him becoming daily more detached from me. What have I not done + to keep him near me! How I have stooped to meanness, to falsehood, to keep + him a single day longer, perhaps a single hour! But all was useless. I was + a burden to him. He loved me no longer; and my love became to him a + heavier load than the cannon-ball which they will fasten to his chains at + the galleys.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “That is horrible!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Horrible! Yes, but true. You look amazed. That is because you have as yet + only seen the morning dawn of your love: wait for the dark evening, and + you will understand me. Is not the story of all of us women the same! I + have seen Jacques at my feet as you see him at yours: the vows he swears + to you, he once swore to me; and he swore them to me with the same voice, + tremulous with passion, and with the same burning glances. But you think + you will be his wife, and I never was. What does that matter? What does he + tell you? That he will love you forever, because his love is under the + protection of God and of men. He told me, precisely because our love was + not thus protected, that we should be united by indissoluble bonds,—bonds + stronger than all others. You have his promise: so had I. And the proof of + it is that I gave him every thing,—my honor and the honor of my + family, and that I would have given him still more, if there had been any + more to give. And now to be betrayed, forsaken, despised, to sink lower + and lower, until at last I must become the object of your pity! To have + fallen so low, that you should dare come and offer me to give up Jacques + for my benefit! Ah, that is maddening! And I should let the vengeance I + hold in my hands slip from me at your bidding! I should be stupid enough, + blind enough, to allow myself to be touched by your hypocritical tears! I + should secure your happiness by the sacrifice of my reputation! No, madam, + cherish no such hope!” + </p> + <p> + Her voice expired in her throat in a kind of toneless rattle. She walked + up and down a few times in the room. Then she placed herself straight + before Dionysia, and, looking fixedly into her eyes, she asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Who suggested to you this plan of coming here, this supreme insult which + you tried to inflict upon me?” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia was seized with unspeakable horror, and hardly found heart to + reply. + </p> + <p> + “No one,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “M. Folgat?” + </p> + <p> + “Knows nothing of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not seen him. The thought occurred to me quite suddenly, like an + inspiration on high. When Dr. Seignebos told me that you had refused to + admit the priest from Brechy, I said to myself, ‘This is the last + misfortune, and the greatest of them all! If Count Claudieuse dies without + retracting, Jacques can never be fully restored, whatever may happen + hereafter, not even if his innocence should be established.’ Then I made + up my mind to come to you. Ah! it was a hard task. But I was in hopes I + might touch your heart, or that you might be moved by the greatness of my + sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + The countess was really moved. There is no heart absolutely bad, as there + is none altogether good. As she listened to Dionysia’s passionate + entreaty, her resolution began to grow weaker. + </p> + <p> + “Would it be such a great sacrifice?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + Tears sprang to the eyes of the poor young girl. + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” she said, “I offer you my life. I know very well you will not be + long jealous of me.” + </p> + <p> + She was interrupted by groans, which seemed to come from the room in which + the count was lying. + </p> + <p> + The countess half-opened the door; and immediately a feeble, and yet + imperious voice was heard calling out,— + </p> + <p> + “Genevieve, I say, Genevieve!” + </p> + <p> + “I am coming, my dear, in a moment,” replied the countess. + </p> + <p> + “What security can you give me,” she said, in a hard and stern voice, + after having closed the door again,—“what security do you give me, + that if Jacques’s innocence were established, and he reinstated, you would + not forget your promises?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, madam! How or upon what do you want me to swear that I am ready to + disappear. Choose your own securities, and I will do whatever you + require.” + </p> + <p> + Then, sinking down on her knees, before the countess, she went on,— + </p> + <p> + “Here I am at your feet, madam, humble and suppliant,—I whom you + accuse of a desire to insult you. Have pity on Jacques! Ah! if you loved + him as much as I do, you would not hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + The countess raised her suddenly and quickly, and holding her hands in her + own, looked at her for more than a minute without saying a word, but with + heaving bosom and trembling lips. At last she asked in a voice which was + so deeply affected, that it was hardly intelligible. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Induce Count Claudieuse to retract.” + </p> + <p> + The countess shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It would be useless to try. You do not know the count. He is a man of + iron. You might tear his flesh inch by inch with hot iron pincers, and he + would not take back one of his words. You cannot conceive what he has + suffered, nor the depth of the hatred, the rage, and the thirst of + vengeance, which have accumulated in his heart. It was to torture me that + he brought me here to his bedside. Only five minutes ago he told me that + he died content, since Jacques was declared guilty, and condemned through + his evidence.” + </p> + <p> + She was conquered: her energy was exhausted, and tears came to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He has been so cruelly tried!” she went on. “He loved me to distraction; + he loved nothing in the world but me. And I—Ah, if we could know, if + we could foresee! No, I shall never be able to induce him to retract.” + </p> + <p> + Dionysia almost forgot her own great grief. + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I expect you to obtain that favor,” she said very gently. + </p> + <p> + “Who, then?” + </p> + <p> + “The priest from Brechy. He will surely find words to shake even the + firmest resolution. He can speak in the name of that God, who, even on the + cross, forgave those who crucified Him.” + </p> + <p> + One moment longer the countess hesitated; and then, overcoming finally the + last rebellious impulses of her pride, she said,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will call the priest.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, madam, I swear I will keep my promise.” + </p> + <p> + But the countess stopped her, and said, making a supreme effort over + herself,— + </p> + <p> + “No: I shall try to save Jacques without making conditions. Let him be + yours. He loves you, and you were ready to sacrifice your life for his + sake. He forsakes me; but I sacrifice my honor to him. Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + And hastening to the door, while Dionysia returned to her friends, she + summoned the priest from Brechy. + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon, the commonwealth attorney, learned that morning from his + chief clerk what had happened, and how the proceedings in the Boiscoran + case were necessarily null and void on account of a fatal error in form. + The counsel of the defence had lost no time, and, after spending the whole + night in consultation, had early that morning presented their application + for a new trial to the court. + </p> + <p> + The commonwealth attorney took no pains to conceal his satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he cried, “this will worry my friend Galpin, and clip his wings + considerably; and yet I had called his attention to the lines of Horace, + in which he speaks of Phaeton’s sad fate, and says,— + </p> + <p> + ‘Terret ambustus Phaeton avaras Spes.’ + </p> + <p> + But he would not listen to me, forgetting, that, without prudence, force + is a danger. And there he is now, in great difficulty, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + And at once he made haste to dress, and to go and see M. Galpin in order + to hear all the details accurately, as he told his clerk, but, in reality, + in order to enjoy to his heart’s content the discomfiture of the ambitious + magistrate. + </p> + <p> + He found him furious, and ready to tear his hair. + </p> + <p> + “I am disgraced,” he repeated: “I am ruined; I am lost. All my prospects, + all my hopes, are gone. I shall never be forgiven for such an oversight.” + </p> + <p> + To look at M. Daubigeon, you would have thought he was sincerely + distressed. + </p> + <p> + “Is it really true,” he said with an air of assumed pity,—“is it + really true, what they tell me, that this unlucky mistake was made by + you?” + </p> + <p> + “By me? Yes, indeed! I forgot those wretched details which a scholar knows + by heart. Can you understand that? And to say that no one noticed my + inconceivable blindness! Neither the first court of inquiry, nor the + attorney-general himself, nor the presiding judge, ever said a word about + it. It is my fate. And that is to be the result of my labors. Everybody, + no doubt, said, ‘Oh! M. Galpin has the case in hand; he knows all about + it: no need to look after the matter when such a man has taken hold of + it.’ And here I am. Oh! I might kill myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It is all the more fortunate,” replied M. Daubigeon, “that yesterday the + case was hanging on a thread.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate gnashed his teeth, and replied,— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, on a thread, thanks to M. Domini! whose weakness I cannot + comprehend, and who did not know at all, or who was not willing to know, + how to make the most of the evidence. But it was M. Gransiere’s fault + quite as much. What had he to do with politics to drag them into the + affair? And whom did he want to hit? No one else but M. Magloire, the man + whom everybody respects in the whole district, and who had three warm + personal friends among the jurymen. I foresaw it, and I told him where he + would get into trouble. But there are people who will not listen. M. + Gransiere wants to be elected himself. It is a fancy, a monomania of our + day: everybody wants to be a deputy. I wish Heaven would confound all + ambitious men!” + </p> + <p> + For the first time in his life, and no doubt for the last time also, the + commonwealth attorney rejoiced at the misfortune of others. Taking savage + pleasure in turning the dagger in his poor friend’s wounds, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “No doubt M. Folgat’s speech had something to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + “He was brilliantly successful.” + </p> + <p> + “He took them by surprise. It was nothing but a big voice, and grand, + rolling sentences.” + </p> + <p> + “But still”— + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say, after all? That the prosecution did not know the + real secret of the case. That is absurd!” + </p> + <p> + “The new judges may not think so, however.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall see.” + </p> + <p> + “This time M. de Boiscoran’s defence will be very different. He will spare + nobody. He is down now, and cannot fall any lower.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be. But he also risks having a less indulgent jury, and not + getting off with twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + “What do his counsel say?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. But I have just sent my clerk to find out; and, if you + choose to wait”— + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon did wait, and he did well; for M. Mechinet came in very soon + after, with a long face for the world, but inwardly delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” asked M. Galpin eagerly. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head, and said in a melancholy tone of voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I have never seen any thing like this. How fickle public opinion is, + after all! Day before yesterday M. de Boiscoran could not have passed + through the town without being mobbed. If he should show himself to-day, + they would carry him in triumph. He has been condemned, and now he is a + martyr. It is known already that the sentence is void, and they are + delighted. My sisters have just told me that the ladies in good society + propose to give to the Marchioness de Boiscoran and to Miss Chandore some + public evidence of their sympathy. The members of the bar will give M. + Folgat a public dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Why that is monstrous!” cried M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said M. Daubigeon, “‘the opinions of men are more fickle and + changeable than the waves of the sea.’” + </p> + <p> + But, interrupting the quotation, M. Galpin asked his clerk,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, what else?” + </p> + <p> + “I went to hand M. Gransiere the letter which you gave me for him”— + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “I found him in consultation with the president, M. Domini. He took the + letter, glanced at it rapidly, and told me in his most icy tone, ‘Very + well!’ To tell the truth, I thought, that, in spite of his stiff and grand + air, he was in reality furious.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate looked utterly in despair. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t stand it,” he said sighing. “These men whose veins have no blood + in them, but poison, never forgive.” + </p> + <p> + “Day before yesterday you thought very highly of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Day before yesterday he did not look upon me as the cause of a great + misfortune for him.” + </p> + <p> + M. Mechinet went on quite eagerly,— + </p> + <p> + “After leaving M. Gransiere, I went to the court-house, and there I head + the great piece of news which has set all the town agog. Count Claudieuse + is dead.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin looked at each other, and exclaimed in the same + breath,— + </p> + <p> + “Great God! Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “He breathed his last this morning, at two or three minutes before six + o’clock. I saw his body in the private room of the attorney-general. The + priest from Brechy was there, and two other priests from his parish. They + were waiting for a bier to have him carried to his house.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man!” murmured M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + “But I heard a great deal more,” Mechinet said, “from the watchman who was + on guard last night. He told me that when the trial was over, and it + became known that Count Claudieuse was likely to die, the priest from + Brechy came there, and asked to be allowed to offer him the last + consolations of his church. The countess refused to let him come to the + bedside of her husband. The watchman was amazed at this; and just then + Miss Chandore suddenly appeared, and sent word to the countess that she + wanted to speak to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite certain. They remained together for more than a quarter of an hour. + What did they say? The watchman told me he was dying with curiosity to + know; but he could hear nothing, because there was the priest from Brechy, + all the while, kneeling before the door, and praying. When they parted, + they looked terribly excited. Then the countess immediately called in the + priest, and he stayed with the count till he died.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin had not yet recovered from their amazement at + this account, when somebody knocked timidly at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in!” cried Mechinet. + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and the sergeant of gendarmes appeared. + </p> + <p> + “I have been sent here by the attorney-general,” he said; “and the servant + told me you were up here. We have just caught Trumence.” + </p> + <p> + “That man who had escaped from jail?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. We were about to carry him back there, when he told us that he had a + secret to reveal, a very important, urgent secret, concerning the + condemned prisoner, Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “Trumence?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Then we carried him to the court-house, and I came for orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Run and say that I am coming to see him!” cried M. Daubigeon. “Make + haste! I am coming after you.” + </p> + <p> + But the gendarme, a model of obedience, had not waited so long: he was + already down stairs. + </p> + <p> + “I must leave you, Galpin,” said M. Daubigeon, very much excited. “You + heard what the man said. We must know what that means at once.” + </p> + <p> + But the magistrate was not less excited. + </p> + <p> + “You permit me to accompany you, I hope?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + He had a right to do so. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” replied the commonwealth attorney. “But make haste!” + </p> + <p> + The recommendation was not needed. M. Galpin had already put on his boots. + He now slipped his overcoat over his home dress, as he was; and off they + went. + </p> + <p> + Mechinet followed the two gentlemen as they hastened down the street; and + the good people of Sauveterre, always on the lookout, were not a little + scandalized at seeing their well-known magistrate, M. Galpin, in his home + costume,—he who generally was most scrupulously precise in his + dress. + </p> + <p> + Standing on their door-steps, they said to each other,— + </p> + <p> + “Something very important must have happened. Just look at these + gentlemen!” + </p> + <p> + The fact was, they were walking so fast, that people might well wonder; + and they did not say a word all the way. + </p> + <p> + But, ere they reached the court-house, they were forced to stop; for some + four or five hundred people were filling the court, crowding on the steps, + and actually pressing against the doors. + </p> + <p> + Immediately all became silent; hats were raised; the crowd parted; and a + passage was opened. + </p> + <p> + On the porch appeared the priest from Brechy, and two other priests. + </p> + <p> + Behind them came attendants from the hospital, who bore a bier covered + with black cloth; and beneath the cloth the outlines of a human body could + be seen. + </p> + <p> + The women began to cry; and those who had room enough knelt down. + </p> + <p> + “Poor countess!” murmured one of them. “Here is her husband dead, and they + say one of her daughters is dying at home.” + </p> + <p> + But M. Daubigeon, the magistrate, and Mechinet were too preoccupied with + their own interests to think of stopping for more reliable news. The way + was open: they went in, and hastened to the clerk’s office, where the + gendarmes had taken Trumence, and now were guarding him. + </p> + <p> + He rose as soon as he recognized the gentlemen, and respectfully took off + his cap. It was really Trumence; but the good-for-nothing vagrant did not + present his usual careless appearance. He looked pale, and was evidently + very much excited. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said M. Daubigeon, “so you have allowed yourself to be retaken?” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, judge,” replied the poor fellow, “I was not retaken. I came + of my own accord.” + </p> + <p> + “Involuntarily, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite by my own free will! Just ask the sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant stepped forward, touched his cap, and reported,— + </p> + <p> + “That is the naked truth. Trumence came himself to our barrack, and said, + ‘I surrender as a prisoner. I wish to speak to the commonwealth attorney, + and give importance evidence.’” + </p> + <p> + The vagabond drew himself up proudly,— + </p> + <p> + “You see, sir, that I did not lie. While these gentlemen were galloping + all over the country in search of me, I was snugly ensconced in a garret + at the Red Lamb, and did not think of coming out from there till I should + be entirely forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but people who lodge at the Red Lamb have to pay, and you had no + money.” + </p> + <p> + Trumence very quietly drew from his pocket a handful of Napoleons, and of + five-and-twenty-franc notes, and showed them. + </p> + <p> + “You see that I had the wherewithal to pay for my room,” he said. “But I + surrendered, because, after all, I am an honest man, and I would rather + suffer some trouble myself than see an innocent gentleman go to the + galleys.” + </p> + <p> + “M. de Boiscoran?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. He is innocent! I know it; I am sure of it; and I can prove it. And, + if he will not tell, I will tell,—tell every thing!” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin were utterly astounded. + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself,” they both said in the same breath. + </p> + <p> + But the vagrant shook his head, pointing at the gendarmes; and, as a man + who is quite cognizant of all the formalities of the law, he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “But it is a great secret; and, when one confesses, one does not like + anybody else to hear it but the priest. Besides, I should like my + deposition to be taken down in writing.” + </p> + <p> + Upon a sign made by M. Galpin, the gendarmes withdrew; and Mechinet took + his seat at a table, with a blank sheet of paper before him. + </p> + <p> + “Now we can talk,” said Trumence: “that’s the way I like it. I was not + thinking myself of running away. I was pretty well off in jail; winter is + coming, I had not a cent; and I knew, that, if I were retaken, I should + fare rather badly. But M. Jacques de Boiscoran had a notion to spend a + night outside.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind what you are saying,” M. Galpin broke in severely. “You cannot play + with the law, and go off unpunished.” + </p> + <p> + “May I die if I do not tell the truth!” cried Trumence. “M. Jacques has + spent a whole night out of jail.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate trembled. + </p> + <p> + “What a story that is!” he said again. + </p> + <p> + “I have my proof,” replied Trumence coldly, “and you shall hear. Well, as + he wanted to leave, M. Jacques came to me, and we agreed, that in + consideration of a certain sum of money which he has paid me, and of which + you have seen just now all that is left, I should make a hole in the wall, + and that I should run off altogether, while he was to come back when he + had done his business.” + </p> + <p> + “And the jailer?” asked M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + Like a true peasant of his promise, Trumence was far too cunning to expose + Blangin unnecessarily. Assuming, therefore, the whole responsibility of + the evasion, he replied,— + </p> + <p> + “The jailer saw nothing. We had no use for him. Was not I, so to say, + under-jailer? Had not I been charged by you yourself, M. Galpin, with + keeping watch over M. Jacques? Was it not I who opened and locked his + door, who took him to the parlor, and brought him back again?” + </p> + <p> + That was the exact truth. + </p> + <p> + “Go on!” said M. Galpin harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Trumence, “every thing was done as agreed upon. One evening, + about nine o’clock, I make my hole in the wall, and here we are, M. + Jacques and I, on the ramparts. There he slips a package of banknotes into + my hand, and tells me to run for it, while he goes about his business. I + thought he was innocent then; but you see I should not exactly have gone + through the fire for him as yet. I said to myself, that perhaps he was + making fun of me, and that, once on the wing, he would not be such a fool + as to go back into the cage. This made me curious, as he was going off, to + see which way he was going,—and there I was, following him close + upon his heels!” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate and the commonwealth attorney, accustomed as they both + were, by the nature of their profession, to conceal their feelings, could + hardly restrain now,—one, the hope trembling within him, and the + other, the vague apprehensions which began to fill his heart. + </p> + <p> + Mechinet, who knew already all that was coming, laughed in his sleeve + while his pen was flying rapidly over the paper. + </p> + <p> + “He was afraid he might be recognized,” continued the vagrant, “and so M. + Jacques had been running ever so fast, keeping close to the wall, and + choosing the narrowest lanes. Fortunately, I have a pair of very good + legs. He goes through Sauveterre like a race-horse; and, when he reaches + Mautrec Street, he begins to ring the bell at a large gate.” + </p> + <p> + “At Count Claudieuse’s house!” + </p> + <p> + “I know now what house it was; but I did not know then. Well, he rings. A + servant comes and opens. He speaks to her, and immediately she invites him + in, and that so eagerly, that she forgets to close the gate again.” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon stopped him by a gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” he said. + </p> + <p> + And, taking up a blank form, he filled it up, rang the bell, and said to + an usher of the court who had hastened in, giving him the printed paper,— + </p> + <p> + “I want this to be taken immediately. Make haste; and not a word!” + </p> + <p> + Then Trumence was directed to go on; and he said,— + </p> + <p> + “There I was, standing in the middle of the street, feeling like a fool. I + thought I had nothing left me but to go and use my legs: that was safest + for me. But that wretched, half-open gate attracted me. I said to myself, + ‘If you go in, and they catch you, they will think you have come to steal, + and you’ll have to pay for it.’ That was true; but the temptation was too + strong for me. My curiosity broke my heart, so to say, and, ‘Come what + may, I’ll risk it,’ I said. I push the huge gate just wide enough to let + me in, and here I am in a large garden. It was pitch dark; but, quite at + the bottom of the garden, three windows in the lower story of the house + were lighted up. I had ventured too far now to go back. So I went on, + creeping along stealthily, until I reached a tree, against which I pressed + closely, about the length of my arm from one of the windows, which + belonged to a beautiful parlor. I look—and I see whom? M. de + Boiscoran. As there were no curtains to the windows, I could see as well + as I can see you. His face looked terrible. I was asking myself for whom + he could be waiting there, when I saw him hiding behind the open door of + the room, like a man who is lying in wait for somebody, with evil + intentions. This troubled me very much; but the next moment a lady came + in. Instantly M. Jacques shuts the door behind her; the lady turns round, + sees him, and wants to run, uttering at the same time a loud cry. That + lady was the Countess Claudieuse!” + </p> + <p> + He looked as if he wished to pause to watch the effect of his revelation. + But Mechinet was so impatient, that he forgot the modest character of his + duty, and said hastily,— + </p> + <p> + “Go on; go on!” + </p> + <p> + “One of the windows was half open,” continued the vagrant, “and thus I + could hear almost as well as I saw. I crouched down on all-fours and kept + my head on a level with the ground, so as not to lose a word. Oh, it was + fearful! At the first word I understood it all: M. Jacques and the + Countess Claudieuse had been lovers.” + </p> + <p> + “This is madness!” cried M. Galpin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I tell you I was amazed. The Countess Claudieuse—such a pious + lady! But I have ears; don’t you think I have? M. Jacques reminded her of + the night of the crime, how they had been together a few minutes before + the fire broke out, as they had agreed some days before to meet near + Valpinson at that very time. At this meeting they had burnt their + love-letters, and M. Jacques had blackened his fingers badly in burning + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you really hear that?” asked M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + “As I hear you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Write it down, Mechinet,” said the commonwealth attorney with great + eagerness,—“write that down carefully.” + </p> + <p> + The clerk was sure to do it. + </p> + <p> + “What surprised me most,” continued Trumence, “was, that the countess + seemed to consider M. Jacques guilty, and he thought she was. Each accused + the other of the crime. She said, ‘You attempted the life of my husband, + because you were afraid of him!’ And he said, ‘You wanted to kill him, so + as to be free, and to prevent my marriage!’” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin had sunk into a chair: he stammered,— + </p> + <p> + “Did anybody ever hear such a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “However, they explained; and at last they found out that they were both + of them innocent. Then M. Jacques entreated the countess to save him; and + she replied that she would certainly not save him at the expense of her + reputation, and so enable him, as soon as he was free once more, to marry + Miss Chandore. Then he said to her, ‘Well, then I must tell all;’ and she, + ‘You will not be believed. I shall deny it all, and you have no proof!’ In + his despair, he reproached her bitterly, and said she had never loved him + at all. Then she swore she loved him more than ever; and that, as he was + free now, she was ready to abandon every thing, and to escape with him to + some foreign country. And she conjured him to flee, in a voice which moved + my heart, with loving words such as I have never heard before in my life, + and with looks which seemed to be burning fire. What a woman! I did not + think he could possibly resist. And yet he did resist; and, perfectly + beside himself with anger, he cried, ‘Rather the galleys!’ Then she + laughed, mocking him, and saying, ‘Very well, you shall go to the + galleys!’” + </p> + <p> + Although Trumence entered into many details, it was quite evident that he + kept back many things. + </p> + <p> + Still M. Daubigeon did not dare question him, for fear of breaking the + thread of his account. + </p> + <p> + “But that was nothing at all,” said the vagrant. “While M. Jacques and the + countess were quarrelling in this way, I saw the door of the parlor + suddenly open as if by itself, and a phantom appear in it, dressed in a + funeral pall. It was Count Claudieuse himself. His face looked terrible; + and he had a revolver in his hand. He was leaning against the side of the + door; and he listened while his wife and M. Jacques were talking of their + former love-affairs. At certain words, he would raise his pistol as if to + fire; then he would lower it again, and go on listening. It was so awful, + I had not a dry thread on my body. It was very hard not to cry out to M. + Jacques and the countess, ‘You poor people, don’t you see that the count + is there?’ But they saw nothing; for they were both beside themselves with + rage and despair: and at last M. Jacques actually raised his hand to + strike the countess. ‘Do not strike that woman!’ suddenly said the count. + They turn round; they see him, and utter a fearful cry. The countess fell + on a chair as if she were dead. I was thunderstruck. I never in my life + saw a man behave so beautifully as M. Jacques did at that moment. Instead + of trying to escape, he opened his coat, and baring his breast, he said to + the husband, ‘Fire! You are in your right!’ The count, however, laughed + contemptuously, and said, ‘The court will avenge me!’—‘You know very + well that I am innocent.’—‘All the better.’—‘It would be + infamous to let me be condemned.’—‘I shall do more than that. To + make your condemnation sure, I shall say that I recognized you.’ The count + was going to step forward, as he said this; but he was dying. Great God, + what a man! He fell forward, lying at full-length on the floor. Then I got + frightened, and ran away.” + </p> + <p> + By a very great effort only could the commonwealth attorney control his + intense excitement. His voice, however, betrayed him as he asked Trumence, + after a solemn pause,— + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not come and tell us all that at once?” + </p> + <p> + The vagabond shook his head, and said,— + </p> + <p> + “I meant to do so; but I was afraid. You ought to understand what I mean. + I was afraid I might be punished very severely for having run off.” + </p> + <p> + “Your silence has led the court to commit a grievous mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea M. Jacques would be found guilty. Big people like him, who + can pay great lawyers, always get out of trouble. Besides, I did not think + Count Claudieuse would carry out his threat. To be betrayed by one’s wife + is hard; but to send an innocent man to the galleys”— + </p> + <p> + “Still you see”— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if I could have foreseen! My intentions were good; and I assure you, + although I did not come at once to denounce the whole thing, I was firmly + resolved to make a clean breast of it if M. Jacques should get into + trouble. And the proof of it is, that instead of running off, and going + far away, I very quietly lay concealed at the Red Lamb, waiting for the + sentence to be published. As soon as I heard what was done last night, I + did not lose an hour, and surrendered at once to the gendarmes.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, M. Galpin had overcome his first amazement, and now broke + out furiously,— + </p> + <p> + “This man is an impostor. The money he showed us was paid him to bear + false witness. How can we credit his story?” + </p> + <p> + “We must investigate the matter,” replied M. Daubigeon. He rang the bell; + and, when the usher came in, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Have you done what I told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied the man. “M. de Boiscoran and the servant of Count + Claudieuse are here.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring in the woman: when I ring, show M. de Boiscoran in.” + </p> + <p> + This woman was a big country-girl, plain of face, and square of figure. + She seemed to be very much excited, and looked crimson in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember,” asked M. Daubigeon, “that one night last week a man + came to your house, and asked to see your mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” replied the honest girl. “I did not want to let him in at + first; but he said he came from the court, and then I let him in.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you recognize him?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + The commonwealth attorney rang again; the door opened, and Jacques came + in, his face full of amazement and wonder. + </p> + <p> + “That is the man!” cried the servant. + </p> + <p> + “May I know?” asked the unfortunate man. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet!” replied M. Daubigeon. “Go back, and be of good hope!” + </p> + <p> + But Jacques remained standing where he was, like a man who has suddenly + been overcome, looking all around with amazed eyes, and evidently unable + to comprehend. + </p> + <p> + How could he have comprehended what was going on? + </p> + <p> + They had taken him out of his cell without warning; they had carried him + to the court-house; and here he was confronted with Trumence, whom he + thought he should never see again, and with the servant of the Countess + Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin looked the picture of consternation; and M. Daubigeon, radiant + with delight, bade him be of good hope. + </p> + <p> + Hopeful of what? How? To what purpose? + </p> + <p> + And Mechinet made him all kinds of signs. + </p> + <p> + The usher who had brought him in had actually to take him out. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the commonwealth attorney turned again to the servant-girl and + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Now, my good girl, can you tell me if any thing special happened in + connection with this gentleman’s visit at your house?” + </p> + <p> + “There was a great quarrel between him and master and mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you present?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But I am quite certain of what I say.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will tell you. When I went up stairs to tell the countess that + there was a gentleman below who came from the courts, she was in a great + hurry to go down, and told me to stay with the count, my master. Of + course, I did what she said. But no sooner was she down than I heard a + loud cry. Master, who had looked all in a stupor, heard it too: he raised + himself on his pillow, and asked me where my mistress was. I told him, and + he was just settling down to try and fall asleep again, when the sound of + loud voices came up to us. ‘That is very singular,’ said master. I offered + to go down and see what was the matter: but he told me sharply not to stir + an inch. And, when the voices became louder and louder, he said, ‘I will + go down myself. Give me my dressing-gown.’ + </p> + <p> + “Sick as he was, exhausted, and almost on his deathbed, it was very + imprudent in him, and might easily have cost him his life. I ventured to + speak to him; but he swore at me, and told me to hush, and to do what he + ordered me to do. + </p> + <p> + “The count—God be merciful to his soul!—was a very good man, + certainly; but he was a terrible man also, and when he got angry, and + talked in a certain way, everybody in the house began to tremble, even + mistress. + </p> + <p> + “I obeyed, therefore, and did what he wanted. Poor man! He was so weak he + could hardly stand up, and had to hold on to a chair while I helped him + just to hang his dressing-gown over his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Then I asked him if he would not let me help him down. But looking at me + with awful eyes, he said, ‘You will do me the favor to stay here, and, + whatever may happen, if you dare so much as open the door while I am away, + you shall not stay another hour in my service.’ + </p> + <p> + “Then he went out, holding on to the wall; and I remained alone in the + chamber, all trembling, and feeling as sick as if I had known that a great + misfortune was coming upon us. + </p> + <p> + “However, I heard nothing more for a time; and as the minutes passed away, + I was just beginning to reproach myself for having been so foolishly + alarmed, when I heard two cries; but, O sir! two such fearful, sharp + cries, that I felt cold shivers running all over me. + </p> + <p> + “As I did not dare leave the room, I put my ear to the door, and I heard + distinctly the count’s voice, as he was quarrelling with another + gentleman. But I could not catch a single word, and only made out that + they were angry about a very serious matter. + </p> + <p> + “All of a sudden, a great but dull noise, like that of the fall of a heavy + body, then another awful cry, I had not a drop of blood left in my veins + at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately, the other servants, who had gone to bed, had heard + something. They had gotten up, and were now coming down the passage. + </p> + <p> + “I left the room at all hazards, and went down stairs with the others, and + there we found my mistress fainting in an armchair, and my master + stretched out at full-length, lying on the floor like a dead man.” + </p> + <p> + “What did I say?” cried Trumence. + </p> + <p> + But the commonwealth attorney made him a sign to keep quiet; and, turning + again to the girl, he asked,— + </p> + <p> + “And the visitor?” + </p> + <p> + “He was gone, sir. He had vanished.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do then?” + </p> + <p> + “We raised up the count: we carried him up stairs and laid him on his bed. + Then we brought mistress round again; and the valet went in haste to fetch + Dr. Seignebos.” + </p> + <p> + “What said the countess when she recovered her consciousness?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Mistress looked like a person who has been knocked in the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there any thing else?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “The oldest of the young ladies, Miss Martha, was seized with terrible + convulsions.” + </p> + <p> + “How was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I only know what miss told us herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear what she said.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! It is a very singular story. When this gentleman whom I have just + seen here rang the bell at our gate, Miss Martha, who had already gone to + bed, got up again, and went to the window to see who it was. She saw me go + and open, with a candle in my hand, and come back again with the gentleman + behind me. She was just going to bed again, when she thought she saw one + of the statues in the garden move, and walk right off. We told her it + could not be so; but she did not mind us. She told us over and over again + that she was quite sure that she saw that statue come up the avenue, and + take a place behind the tree which is nearest to the parlor-window.” + </p> + <p> + Trumence looked triumphant. + </p> + <p> + “That was I!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked at him, and said, only moderately surprised,— + </p> + <p> + “That may very well be.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know about it?” asked M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + “I know it must have been a man who had stolen into the garden, and who + had frightened Miss Martha so terribly, because Dr. Seignebos dropped, in + going out, a five-franc piece just at the foot of that tree, where miss + said she had seen the man standing. The valet who showed the doctor out + helped him look for his money; and, as they sought with the candle, they + saw the footprints of a man who wore iron-shod shoes.” + </p> + <p> + “The marks of my shoes!” broke in Trumence again; and sitting down, and + raising his legs, he said to the magistrate,— + </p> + <p> + “Just look at my shoes, and you will see there is no lack of iron nails!” + </p> + <p> + But there was no need for such evidence; and he was told,— + </p> + <p> + “Never mind that! We believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, my good girl,” said M. Daubigeon again, “can you tell us, if, + after these occurrences, Count Claudieuse had any explanation with your + mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not know. Only I saw that the count and the countess were no + longer as they used to be with each other.” + </p> + <p> + That was all she knew. She was asked to sign her deposition; and then M. + Daubigeon told her she might go. + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to Trumence, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “You will be taken to jail now. But you are an honest man, and you need + not give yourself any trouble. Go now.” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate and the commonwealth attorney remained alone now, since, of + course, a clerk counts for nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said M. Daubigeon, “what do you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin was dumfounded. + </p> + <p> + “It is enough to make one mad,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Do you begin to see how that M. Folgat was right when he said the case + was far from being so clear as you pretended?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! who would not have been deceived as I was? You yourself, at one time + at least, were of my opinion. And yet, if the Countess Claudieuse and M. + de Boiscoran are both innocent, who is the guilty one?” + </p> + <p> + “That is what we shall know very soon; for I am determined I will not + allow myself a moment’s rest till I have found out the truth of the whole + matter. How fortunate it was that this fatal error in form should have + made the sentence null and void!” + </p> + <p> + He was so much excited, that he forgot his never-failing quotations. + Turning to the clerk, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “But we must not lose a minute. Put your legs into active motion, my dear + Mechinet, and run and ask M. Folgat to come here. I will wait for him + here.” + </p> + <p> + III. + </p> + <p> + When Dionysia, after leaving the Countess Claudieuse, came back to + Jacques’s parents and his friends, she said, radiant with hope,— + </p> + <p> + “Now victory is on our side!” + </p> + <p> + Her grandfather and the Marquis de Boiscoran urged her to explain; but she + refused to say any thing, and only later, towards evening, she confessed + to M. Folgat what she had done with the countess, and that it was more + than probable that the count would, before he died, retract his evidence. + </p> + <p> + “That alone would save Jacques,” said the young advocate. + </p> + <p> + But his hope only encouraged him to make still greater efforts; and, all + overcome as he was by his labors and emotions of the trial, he spent the + night in Grandpapa Chandore’s study, preparing with M. Magloire the + application they proposed to make for a new trial. + </p> + <p> + They finished only when it was already broad daylight: so he did not care + to go to bed, and installed himself in a large easy-chair for the purpose + of getting a few hours’ rest. + </p> + <p> + He had, however, not slept more than an hour, when old Anthony roused him + to tell him that there was an unknown man down stairs who asked to see him + instantly. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat rubbed his eyes, and at once went down: in the passage he found + himself face to face with a man of some fifty years, of rather suspicious + appearance, who wore his mustache and his chin-beard, and was dressed in a + tight coat and large trousers, such as old soldiers affect. + </p> + <p> + “You are M. Folgat?” asked this man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—I am the agent whom friend Goudar sent to England.” + </p> + <p> + The young lawyer started, and asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Since when are you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Since this morning, by express. Twenty-four hours too late, I know; for I + bought a newspaper at the station. M. de Boiscoran has been found guilty. + And yet I swear I did not lose a minute; and I have well earned the + gratuity which I was promised in case of success.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been successful, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. Did I not tell you in my letter from Jersey that I was sure of + success?” + </p> + <p> + “You have found Suky?” + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-four hours after I wrote to you,—in a public-house at Bonly + Bay. She would not come, the wretch!” + </p> + <p> + “You have brought her, however?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course. She is at the Hotel de France, where I have left her till I + could come and see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Does she know any thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Every thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Make haste and bring her here.” + </p> + <p> + From the time when M. Folgat first hoped for this recovery of the + servant-girl, he had made up his mind to make the most of her evidence. + </p> + <p> + He had slipped a portrait of the Countess Claudieuse into an album of + Dionysia’s, amidst some thirty photographs. He now went for this album, + and had just put it upon the centre-table in the parlor when the agent + came back with his captive. + </p> + <p> + She was a tall, stout woman of some forty years, with hard features, + masculine manners, and dressed, as all common English-women are, with + great pretensions to fashion. + </p> + <p> + When M. Folgat questioned her, she answered in very fair, intelligible + French, which was only marred by her strong English accent,— + </p> + <p> + “I stayed four years at the house in Vine Street; and I should be there + still, but for the war. As soon as I entered upon my duties, I became + aware that I was put in charge of a house in which two lovers had their + meetings. I was not exactly pleased, because, you know, we have our + self-respect; but it was a good place. I had very little to do, and so I + staid. However, my master mistrusted me: I saw that very clearly. When a + meeting was to take place, my master sent me on some errand to Versailles, + to Saint Germain, or even to Orleans. This hurt me so much, that I + determined I would find out what they tried so hard to conceal from me. It + was not very difficult; and the very next week I knew that my master was + no more Sir Francis Burnett than I was; and that he had borrowed the name + from a friend of his.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you go about to find it out?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very simply. One day, when my master went away on foot, I followed + him, and saw him go into a house in University Street. Before the house + opposite, some servants were standing and talking. I asked them who the + gentleman was; and they told me it was the son of the Marquis de + Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “So much for the master; but the lady.” + </p> + <p> + Suky Wood smiled. + </p> + <p> + “As for the lady,” she replied, “I did the same thing to find her out. It + cost me, however, a great deal more time and a great deal more patience, + because she took the very greatest precautions; and I lost more than one + afternoon in watching her. But, the more she tried to hide, the more I was + curious to know, as a matter of course. At last, one evening when she left + the house in her carriage, I took a cab and followed her. I traced her + thus to her house; and next morning I talked to the servants there, and + they told me that she was a lady who lived in the province, but came every + year to Paris to spend a month with her parents, and that her name was + Countess Claudieuse.” + </p> + <p> + And Jacques had imagined and strongly maintained that Suky would not know + any thing, in fact, could not know any thing! + </p> + <p> + “But did you ever see this lady?” asked M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + “As well as I see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you recognize her?” + </p> + <p> + “Among thousands.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you saw her portrait?” + </p> + <p> + “I should know it at once.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat handed her the album. + </p> + <p> + “Well, look for her,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She had found the likeness in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Here she is!” cried Suky, putting her finger on the photograph. + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt any longer. + </p> + <p> + “But now, Miss Suky,” said the young advocate, “you will have to repeat + all that before a magistrate.” + </p> + <p> + “I will do so with pleasure. It is the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “If that is so, they will send for you at your lodgings, and you will + please stay there till you are called. You need not trouble yourself about + any thing. You shall have whatever you want, and they will pay you your + wages as if you were in service.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat had not time to say more; for Dr. Seignebos rushed in like a + tempest, and cried out at the top of his voice,— + </p> + <p> + “Victory! We are victorious now! Great Victory!” + </p> + <p> + But he could not speak before Suky and the agent. They were sent off; and, + as soon as they had left the room, he said to M. Folgat,— + </p> + <p> + “I am just from the hospital. I have seen Goudar. He had done it. He had + made Cocoleu talk.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, exactly what I knew he would say, as soon as they could loose his + tongue. But you will hear it all; for it is not enough that Cocoleu should + confess it to Goudar: there must be witnesses present to certify to the + confessions of the wretch.” + </p> + <p> + “He will not talk before witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + “He must not see them: they can be concealed. The place is admirably + adapted for such a purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “But how, if Cocoleu refuses to talk after the witnesses have been + introduced?” + </p> + <p> + “He will not. Goudar has found out a way to make him talk whenever he + wants it. Ah! that man is a clever man, and understands his business + thoroughly. Have you full confidence in him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, entire!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he says he is sure he will succeed. ‘Come to-day,’ he said to me, + ‘between one and two, with M. Folgat, the commonwealth attorney, and M. + Galpin: put yourself where I will show you, and then let me go to work.’ + Then he showed me the place where he wants us to remain, and told me how + we should let him know when we are all ready.” + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat did not hesitate. + </p> + <p> + “We have not a moment to lose. Let me go at once to the court-house.” + </p> + <p> + But they were hardly in the passage when they were met by Mechinet, who + came running up out of breath, and half mad with delight. + </p> + <p> + “M. Daubigeon sends me to say you must come to him at once. Great news! + Great news!” + </p> + <p> + And immediately he told them in a few words what had happened in the + morning,—Trumence’s statement, and the deposition of the maid of + Countess Claudieuse. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now we are safe!” cried Dr. Seignebos. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat was pale with excitement. Still he proposed,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us tell the marquis and Miss Dionysia what is going on before we + leave the house.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the doctor, “no! Let us wait till every thing is quite safe. + Let us go quick; let us go at once.” + </p> + <p> + They were right to make haste. The magistrate and the commonwealth + attorney were waiting for them with the greatest impatience. As soon as + they came into the small room of the clerk’s office, M. Daubigeon cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose Mechinet has told you all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied M. Folgat; “but we have some information of which you have + heard as yet nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Then he told them that Suky Wood had arrived, and what she had given in as + evidence. + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin had sunk into a chair, completely crushed by the weight of so + many proofs of his misapprehension of the case. There he sat without + saying a word, without moving a muscle. But M. Daubigeon was radiant. + </p> + <p> + “Most assuredly,” he cried, “Jacques must be innocent!” + </p> + <p> + “Most assuredly he is innocent!” said Dr. Seignebos; “and the proof of it + is, that I know who is guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “And you will know too, if you will take the trouble of following me, with + M. Galpin, to the hospital.” + </p> + <p> + It was just striking one; and not one of them all had eaten any thing that + morning. But they had no time to think of breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Without a shadow of hesitation, M. Daubigeon turned to M. Galpin, and + said,— + </p> + <p> + “Will you come, Galpin?” + </p> + <p> + The poor magistrate rose mechanically, after the manner of an automaton, + and they went out, creating no small sensation among the good people of + Sauveterre, when they appeared thus all in a group. + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon spoke first to the lady superior of the hospital; and, when + he had explained to her what their purpose was in coming there, she raised + her eyes heavenward, and said with a sigh of resignation,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen, do as you like, and I hope you will be successful; for + it is a sore trial for us poor sisters to have these continual visitations + in the name of the law.” + </p> + <p> + “Please follow me, then, to the Insane Ward, gentlemen,” said the doctor. + </p> + <p> + They call the Insane Ward at the Sauveterre hospital a small, low + building, with a sanded court in front, and a tall wall around the whole. + The building is divided into six cells, each of which has two doors,—one + opening into the court, and the other an outside door for the assistants + and servants. + </p> + <p> + It was to one of these latter doors that Dr. Seignebos led his friends. + And after having recommended to them the most perfect silence, so as not + to rouse Cocoleu’s suspicions, he invited them into one of the cells, in + which the door leading into the court had been closed. There was, however, + a little grated window in the upper part of the door, so that they could, + without being seen, both see and hear all that was said and done in the + court reserved for the use of the insane. + </p> + <p> + Not two yards from the little window, Goudar and Cocoleu were sitting on a + wooden bench in the bright sunlight. + </p> + <p> + By long study and a great effort of will, Goudar had succeeded in giving + to his face a most perfect expression of stupidity: even the people + belonging to the hospital thought he was more idiotic than the other. + </p> + <p> + He held in his hand his violin, which the doctor had ordered to be left to + him; and he accompanied himself with a few notes, as he repeated the same + familiar song which he had sung on the New-Market Square when he first + accosted M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + Cocoleu, a large piece of bread-and-butter in one hand, and a big + clasp-knife in the other, was finishing his meal. + </p> + <p> + But this music delighted him so intensely, that he actually forgot to eat, + and, with hanging lip and half-closed eyes, rocked himself to and fro, + keeping time with the measure. + </p> + <p> + “They look hideous!” M. Folgat could not keep from whispering. In the + meantime Goudar, warned by the preconcerted signal, had finished his song. + He bent over, and drew from under the bench an enormous bottle, from which + he seemed to draw a considerable quantity of something pleasant. + </p> + <p> + Then he passed it to Cocoleu, who likewise began to pull, eagerly and + long, and with an expression of idiotic beatitude. Then patting his + stomach with his hands, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “That’s—that’s—that’s—good!” + </p> + <p> + M. Daubigeon whispered into Dr. Seignebos’s ear,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I begin to see! I notice from Cocoleu’s eyes, that this practice with + the bottle must have been going on for some time already. Cocoleu is + drunk.” + </p> + <p> + Goudar again took up his violin and repeated his song. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—want—want to—to drink!” stammered Cocoleu. + </p> + <p> + Goudar kept him waiting a little while, and then handed him the bottle. + The idiot threw back his head, and drank till he had lost his breath. Then + Goudar asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you did not have such good wine to drink at Valpinson?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” replied Cocoleu. + </p> + <p> + “But as much as you wanted?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Quite—enough.” + </p> + <p> + And, laughing with some difficulty, he stammered, and stuttered out,— + </p> + <p> + “I got—got into the cellar through one of the windows; and I drank—drank + through—through a—a straw.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be sorry you are no longer there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” + </p> + <p> + “But, if you were so well off at Valpinson, why did you set it on fire?” + </p> + <p> + The witnesses of the strange scene crowded to the little window of the + cell, and held their breath with eager expectation. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to burn some fagots only, to make the count come out. It was not + my fault, if the whole house got on fire.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you want to kill the count?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I wanted the great lady to marry M. de Boiscoran.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! She told you to do it, did she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! But she cried so much; and then she told me she would be so happy + if her husband were dead. And she was always good to Cocoleu; and the + count was always bad; and so I shot him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well! But why, then, did you say it was M. de Boiscoran who shot the + count?” + </p> + <p> + “They said at first it was me. I did not like that. I would rather they + should cut off his head than mine.” + </p> + <p> + He shuddered as he said this, so that Goudar, afraid of having gone rather + too fast, took up his violin, and gave him a verse of his song to quiet + him. Then accompanying his words still now and then with a few notes, and + after having allowed Cocoleu to caress his bottle once more, he asked + again,— + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get a gun?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I had taken it from the count to shoot birds: and I—I have + it still—still. It is hid in the hole where Michael found me.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Dr. Seignebos could not stand it any longer. He suddenly pushed open + the door, and, rushing into the court, he cried,— + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Goudar! Well done!” + </p> + <p> + At the noise, Cocoleu had started up. He evidently understood it all; for + terror drove the fumes of the wine out of his mind in an instant, and he + looked frightened to death. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you scoundrel!” he howled. + </p> + <p> + And, throwing himself upon Goudar, he plunged his knife twice into him. + </p> + <p> + The movement was so rapid and so sudden, that it had been impossible to + prevent it. Pushing M. Folgat violently back as he tried to disarm him, + Cocoleu leaped into a corner of the court, and there, looking like a wild + beast driven to bay, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth foaming, he threatened + with his formidable knife to kill any one who should come near him. + </p> + <p> + At the cries of M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin, the assistants in the hospital + came rushing in. The struggle, however, would probably have been a long + one, notwithstanding their numbers, if one of the keepers had not, with + great presence of mind, climbed up to the top of the wall, and caught the + arm of the wretch in a noose. By these means he was thrown down in a + moment, disarmed, and rendered harmless. + </p> + <p> + “You—you may—may do—do what you—you choose; I—I + won’t say—say another w-w-word!” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, poor Dr. Seignebos, who had unwillingly caused the + catastrophe, was distressed beyond measure; still he hastened to the + assistance of Goudar, who lay insensible on the sand of the court. The two + wounds which the detective had received were quite serious, but not fatal, + or even very dangerous, as the knife had been turned aside by the ribs. He + was at once carried into one of the private rooms of the hospital, and + soon recovered his consciousness. + </p> + <p> + When he saw all four of the gentlemen bending anxiously over his bed, he + murmured with a mournful smile,— + </p> + <p> + “Well, was I not right when I said that my profession is a rascally + profession?” + </p> + <p> + “But you are at liberty now to give it up,” replied M. Folgat, “provided + always a certain house in Vine Street should not prove too small for your + ambition.” + </p> + <p> + The pale face of the detective recovered its color for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Will they really give it to me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Since you have discovered the real criminal, and handed him over to + justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I will bless these wounds: I feel that I shall be up again in + a fortnight. Give me quick pen and ink, that I may write my resignation + immediately, and tell my wife the good news.” + </p> + <p> + He was interrupted by the entrance of one of the officers of the court, + who, walking up to the commonwealth attorney, said to him respectfully,— + </p> + <p> + “Sir, the priest from Brechy is waiting for you at your office.” + </p> + <p> + “I am coming directly,” replied M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + And, turning to his companions, he said,— + </p> + <p> + “Let us go, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + The priest was waiting, and rose quickly from his chair when he saw M. + Daubigeon enter, accompanied by M. Galpin, M. Folgat, and Dr. Seignebos. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you wish to speak to me alone, sir?” asked M. Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” replied the old priest, “no! The words of reparation which have + been intrusted to me must be uttered publicly.” And handing him a letter, + he added,— + </p> + <p> + “Read this. Please read it aloud.” + </p> + <p> + The commonwealth attorney tore the envelope with a tremulous hand, an then + read,— + </p> + <p> + “Being about to die as a Christian, as I have lived as a Christian, I owe + it to myself, I owe it to God whom I have offended, and I owe it to those + men whom I have deceived, to declare the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Actuated by hatred, I have been guilty of giving false evidence in court, + and of stating wrongfully that M. de Boiscoran is the man who shot at me, + and that I recognized him in the act. + </p> + <p> + “I did not only not recognize him, but I know that he is innocent. I am + sure of it; and I swear it by all I hold sacred in this world which I am + about to leave, and in that world in which I must appear before my + sovereign Judge. + </p> + <p> + “May M. de Boiscoran pardon me as I pardon myself. + </p> + <p> + “TRIVULCE COUNT CLAUDIEUSE.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor man!” murmured M. Folgat. + </p> + <p> + The priest at once went on,— + </p> + <p> + “You see, gentlemen, Count Claudieuse withdraws his charge + unconditionally. He asks for nothing in return: he only wants the truth to + be established. And yet I beg leave to express the last wishes of a dying + man. I beseech you, in the new trial, to make no mention of the name of + the countess.” + </p> + <p> + Tears were seen in all eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You may rest assured, reverend father,” said M. Daubigeon, “that Count + Claudieuse’s last wishes shall be attended to. The name of the countess + shall not appear. There will be no need for it. The secret of her wrongs + shall be religiously kept by those who know it.” + </p> + <p> + It was four o’clock now. + </p> + <p> + An hour later there arrived at the court-house a gendarme and Michael, the + son of the Boiscoran tenant, who had been sent out to ascertain if + Cocoleu’s statement was true. They brought back the gun which the wretch + had used, and which he had concealed in that den which he had dug out for + himself in the forest of Rochepommier, and where Michael had discovered + him the day after the crime. + </p> + <p> + Henceforth Jacques’s innocence was as clear as daylight; and although he + had to bear the burden of his sentence till the judgment was declared + void, it was decided, with the consent of the president of the court, M. + Domini, and the active cooperation of M. Gransiere, that he should be set + free that same evening. + </p> + <p> + M. Folgat and M. Magloire were charged with the pleasant duty of informing + the prisoner of this happy news. They found him walking up and down in his + cell like a madman, devoured by unspeakable anguish, and not knowing what + to make of the words of hope which M. Daubigeon had spoken to him in the + morning. + </p> + <p> + He was hopeful, it is true; and yet when he was told that he was safe, + that he was free, he sank, an inert mass, into a chair, being less able to + bear joy than sorrow. + </p> + <p> + But such emotions are not apt to last long. A few moments later, and + Jacques de Boiscoran, arm in arm with his counsel, left his prison, in + which he had for several months suffered all that an honest man can + suffer. He had paid a fearful penalty for what, in the eyes of so many + men, is but a trifling wrong. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the street in which the Chandores lived, M. Folgat said + to his client,— + </p> + <p> + “They do not expect you, I am sure. Go slowly, while I go ahead to prepare + them.” + </p> + <p> + He found Jacques’s parents and friends assembled in the parlor, suffering + great anxiety; for they had not been able to ascertain if there were any + truth in the vague rumors which had reached them. + </p> + <p> + The young advocate employed the utmost caution in preparing them for the + truth; but at the first words Dionysia asked,— + </p> + <p> + “Where is Jacques?” + </p> + <p> + Jacques was kneeling at her feet, overcome with gratitude and love. + </p> + <p> + V. + </p> + <p> + The next day the funeral of Count Claudieuse took place. His youngest + daughter was buried at the same time; and in the evening the Countess left + Sauveterre, to make her home henceforth with her father in Paris. + </p> + <p> + In the proper course of the law, the sentence which condemned Jacques was + declared null and void; and Cocoleu, found guilty of having committed the + crime at Valpinson, was sentenced to hard labor for life. + </p> + <p> + A month later Jacques de Boiscoran was married at the church in Brechy to + Dionysia de Chandore. The witnesses for the bridegroom were M. Magloire + and Dr. Seignebos; the witnesses for the bride, M. Folgat and M. + Daubigeon. + </p> + <p> + Even the excellent commonwealth attorney laid aside on that day some of + his usual gravity. He continually repeated,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero + Pulsanda tellus.” + </pre> + <p> + And he really did drink his glass of wine, and opened the ball with the + bride. + </p> + <p> + M. Galpin, who was sent to Algiers, was not present at the wedding. But M. + Mechinet was there, quite brilliant, and, thanks to Jacques, free from all + pecuniary troubles. + </p> + <p> + The two Blangins, husband and wife, have well-nigh spent the whole of the + large sums of money which they extorted from Dionysia. Trumence, private + bailiff at Boiscoran, is the terror of all vagrants. + </p> + <p> + And Goudar, in his garden and nursery, sells the finest peaches in Paris. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s Within an Inch of His Life, by Emile Gaboriau + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 3336-h.htm or 3336-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/3/3336/ + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers; David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* + + + + +Etext prepared by Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com +and John Bickers, jbickers@ihug.co.nz + + + +PREPARER'S NOTE + + This text was prepared from a 1913 edition, published by Charles + Scribner's Sons, New York. + + + + + +Within an Inch of His Life + +by Emile Gaboriau + + + + + FIRST PART + + FIRE AT VALPINSON + + + +These were the facts:-- + + + + I. + +In the night from the 22nd to the 23rd of June, 1871, towards one +o'clock in the morning, the Paris suburb of Sauveterre, the principal +and most densely populated suburb of that pretty town, was startled by +the furious gallop of a horse on its ill-paved streets. + +A number of peaceful citizens rushed to the windows. + +The dark night allowed these only to see a peasant in his shirt +sleeves, and bareheaded, who belabored a large gray mare, on which he +rode bareback, with his heels and a huge stick. + +This man, after having passed the suburbs, turned into National +Street, formerly Imperial Street, crossed New-Market Square, and +stopped at last before the fine house which stands at the corner of +Castle Street. + +This was the house of the mayor of Sauveterre, M. Seneschal, a former +lawyer, and now a member of the general council. + +Having alighted, the peasant seized the bell-knob, and began to ring +so furiously, that, in a few moments, the whole house was in an +uproar. + +A minute later, a big, stout servant-man, his eyes heavy with sleep, +came and opened the door, and then cried out in an angry voice,-- + +"Who are you, my man? What do you want? Have you taken too much wine? +Don't you know at whose house you are making such a row?" + +"I wish to see the mayor," replied the peasant instantly. "Wake him +up!" + +M. Seneschal was wide awake. + +Dressed in a large dressing-gown of gray flannel, a candlestick in his +hand, troubled, and unable to disguise his trouble, he had just come +down into the hall, and heard all that was said. + +"Here is the mayor," he said in an ill-satisfied tone. "What do you +want of him at this hour, when all honest people are in bed?" + +Pushing the servant aside, the peasant came up to him, and said, +making not the slightest attempt at politeness,-- + +"I come to tell you to send the fire-engine." + +"The engine!" + +"Yes; at once. Make haste!" + +The mayor shook his head. + +"Hm!" he said, according to a habit he had when he was at a loss what +to do; "hm, hm!" + +And who would not have been embarrassed in his place? + +To get the engine out, and to assemble the firemen, he had to rouse +the whole town; and to do this in the middle of the night was nothing +less than to frighten the poor people of Sauveterre, who had heard the +drums beating the alarm but too often during the war with the Germans, +and then again during the reign of the Commune. Therefore M. Seneschal +asked,-- + +"Is it a serious fire?" + +"Serious!" exclaimed the peasant. "How could it be otherwise with such +a wind as this,--a wind that would blow off the horns of our oxen." + +"Hm!" uttered the mayor again. "Hm, hm!" + +It was not exactly the first time, since he was mayor of Sauveterre, +that he was thus roused by a peasant, who came and cried under his +window, "Help! Fire, fire!" + +At first, filled with compassion, he had hastily called out the +firemen, put himself at their head, and hurried to the fire. + +And when they reached it, out of breath, and perspiring, after having +made two or three miles at double-quick, they found what? A wretched +heap of straw, worth about ten dollars, and almost consumed by the +fire. They had had their trouble for nothing. + +The peasants in the neighborhood had cried, "Wolf!" so often, when +there was no reason for it, that, even when the wolf really was there, +the townspeople were slow in believing it. + +"Let us see," said M. Seneschal: "what is burning?" + +The peasant seemed to be furious at all these delays, and bit his long +whip. + +"Must I tell you again and again," he said, "that every thing is on +fire,--barns, outhouses, haystacks, the houses, the old castle, and +every thing? If you wait much longer, you won't find one stone upon +another in Valpinson." + +The effect produced by this name was prodigious. + +"What?" asked the mayor in a half-stifled voice, "Valpinson is on +fire?" + +"Yes." + +"At Count Claudieuse's?" + +"Of course." + +"Fool! Why did you not say so at once?" exclaimed the mayor. + +He hesitated no longer. + +"Quick!" he said to his servant, "go and get me my clothes. Wait, no! +my wife can help me. There is no time to be lost. You run to Bolton, +the drummer, you know, and tell him from me to beat the alarm +instantly all over town. Then you run to Capt. Parenteau's, and +explain to him what you have heard. Ask him to get the keys of the +engine-house.--Wait!--when you have done that, come back and put the +horse in.--Fire at Valpinson! I shall go with the engine. Go, run, +knock at every door, cry, 'Fire! Fire!' Tell everybody to come to the +New-Market Square." + +When the servant had run off as fast as he could, the mayor turned to +the peasant, and said,-- + +"And you, my good man, you get on your horse, and reassure the count. +Tell them all to take courage, not to give up; we are coming to help +them." + +But the peasant did not move. + +"Before going back to Valpinson," he said, "I have another commission +to attend to in town." + +"Why? What is it?" + +"I am to get the doctor to go back with me." + +"The doctor! Why? Has anybody been hurt?" + +"Yes, master, Count Claudieuse." + +"How imprudent! I suppose he rushed into danger as usually." + +"Oh, no! He has been shot twice!" + +The mayor of Sauveterre nearly dropped his candlestick. + +"Shot! Twice!" he said. "Where? When? By whom?" + +"Ah! I don't know." + +"But"-- + +"All I can tell you is this. They have carried him into a little barn +that was not on fire yet. There I saw him myself lying on the straw, +pale like a linen sheet, his eyes closed, and bloody all over." + +"Great God! They have not killed him?" + +"He was not dead when I left." + +"And the countess?" + +"Our lady," replied the peasant with an accent of profound veneration, +"was in the barn on her knees by the count's side, washing his wounds +with fresh water. The two little ladies were there too." + +M. Seneschal trembled with excitement. + +"It is a crime that has been committed, I suppose." + +"Why, of course!" + +"But who did it? What was the motive?" + +"Ah! that is the question." + +"The count is very passionate, to be sure, quite violent, in fact; but +still he is the best and fairest of men, everybody knows that." + +"Everybody knows it." + +"He never did any harm to anybody." + +"That is what all say." + +"As for the countess"-- + +"Oh!" said the peasant eagerly, "she is the saint of saints." + +The mayor tried to come to some conclusion. + +"The criminal, therefore, must be a stranger. We are overrun with +vagabonds and beggars on the tramp. There is not a day on which a lot +of ill-looking fellows do not appear at my office, asking for help to +get away." + +The peasant nodded his head, and said,-- + +"That is what I think. And the proof of it is, that, as I came along, +I made up my mind I would first get the doctor, and then report the +crime at the police office." + +"Never mind," said the mayor. "I will do that myself. In ten minutes I +shall see the attorney of the Commonwealth. Now go. Don't spare your +horse, and tell your mistress that we are all coming after you." + +In his whole official career M. Seneschal had never been so terribly +shocked. He lost his head, just as he did on that unlucky day, when, +all of a sudden, nine hundred militia-men fell upon him, and asked to +be fed and lodged. Without his wife's help he would never have been +able to dress himself. Still he was ready when his servant returned. + +The good fellow had done all he had been told to do, and at that +moment the beat of the drum was heard in the upper part of the town. + +"Now, put the horse in," said M. Seneschal: "let me find the carriage +at the door when I come back." + +In the streets he found all in an uproar. At every window a head +popped out, full of curiosity or terror; on all sides house doors were +opened, and promptly closed again. + +"Great God!" he thought, "I hope I shall find Daubigeon at home!" M. +Daubigeon, who had been first in the service of the empire, and then +in the service of the republic, was one of M. Seneschal's best +friends. He was a man of about forty years, with a cunning look in his +eye, a permanent smile on his face, and a confirmed bachelor, with no +small pride in his consistency. The good people of Sauveterre thought +he did not look stern and solemn enough for his profession. To be sure +he was very highly esteemed; but his optimism was not popular; they +reproached him for being too kind-hearted, too reluctant to press +criminals whom he had to prosecute, and thus prone to encourage evil- +doers. + +He accused himself of not being inspired with the "holy fire," and, as +he expressed it in his own way, "of robbing Themis of all the time he +could, to devote it to the friendly Muses." He was a passionate lover +of fine books, rare editions, costly bindings, and fine illustrations; +and much the larger part of his annual income of about ten thousand +francs went to buying books. A scholar of the old-fashioned type, he +professed boundless admiration for Virgil and Juvenal, but, above all, +for Horace, and proved his devotion by constant quotations. + +Roused, like everybody else in the midst of his slumbers, this +excellent man hastened to put on his clothes, when his old housekeeper +came in, quite excited, and told him that M. Seneschal was there, and +wanted to see him. + +"Show him in!" he said, "show him in!" + +And, as soon as the mayor entered, he continued:-- + +"For you will be able to tell me the meaning of all this noise, this +beating of drums,-- + + 'Clamorque, virum, clangorque tubarum.' " + +"A terrible misfortune has happened," answered the mayor. From the +tone of his voice one might have imagined it was he himself who had +been afflicted; and the lawyer was so strongly impressed in this way, +that he said,-- + +"My dear friend, what is the matter? /Quid?/ Courage, my friend, keep +cool! Remember that the poet advises us, in misfortune never to lose +our balance of mind:-- + + 'AEquam, memento, rebus in arduis, + Sevare mentem.' " + +"Incendiaries have set Valpinson on fire!" broke in the mayor. + +"You do not say so? Great God! + + 'Jupiter, + Quod verbum audio.' " + +"More than that. Count Claudieuse has been shot, and by this time he +is probably dead." + +"Oh!" + +"You hear the drummer is beating the alarm. I am going to the fire; +and I have only come here to report the matter officially to you, and +to ask you to see to it that justice be done promptly and +energetically." + +There was no need of such a serious appeal to stop at once all the +lawyer's quotations. + +"Enough!" he said eagerly. "Come, let us take measures to catch the +wretches." + +When they reached National Street, it was as full as at mid-day; for +Sauveterre is one of those rare provincial towns in which an +excitement is too rare a treat to be neglected. The sad event had by +this time become fully known everywhere. At first the news had been +doubted; but when the doctor's cab had passed the crowd at full speed, +escorted by a peasant on horseback, the reports were believed. Nor had +the firemen lost time. As soon as the mayor and M. Daubigeon appeared +on New-Market Square, Capt. Parenteau rushed up to them, and, touching +his helmet with a military salute, said,-- + +"My men are ready." + +"All?" + +"There are hardly ten absentees. When they heard that Count and +Countess Claudieuse were in need--great heavens!--you know, they all +were ready in a moment." + +"Well, then, start and make haste," commanded M. Seneschal. "We shall +overtake you on the way: M. Daubigeon and I are going to pick up M. +Galpin, the magistrate." + +They had not far to go. + +The magistrate had already been looking for them all over town: he was +just appearing on the Square, and saw them at once. + +In striking contrast with the commonwealth attorney, M. Galpin was a +professional man in the full sense of the word, and perhaps a little +more. He was the magistrate all over, from head to foot, and from the +gaiters on his ankles to the light blonde whiskers on his face. +Although he was quite young, yet no one had ever seen him smile, or +heard him make a joke. He was so very stiff that M. Daubigeon +suggested he had been impaled alive on the sword of justice. + +At Sauveterre M. Galpin was looked upon as a superior man. He +certainly believed it himself: hence he was very impatient at being +confined to so narrow a sphere of action, and thought his brilliant +ability wasted upon the prosecution of a chicken-thief or a poacher. +But his almost desperate efforts to secure a better office had always +been unsuccessful. In vain he had enlisted a host of friends in his +behalf. In vain he had thrown himself into politics, ready to serve +any party that would serve him. + +But M. Galpin's ambition was not easily discouraged, and lately after +a journey to Paris, he had thrown out hints at a great match, which +would shortly procure him that influence in high places which so far +he had been unable to obtain. When he joined M. Daubigeon and the +mayor, he said,-- + +"Well, this is a horrible affair! It will make a tremendous noise." +The mayor began to give him the details, but he said,-- + +"Don't trouble yourself. I know all you know. I met the peasant who +had been sent in, and I have examined him." + +Then, turning to the commonwealth attorney, he added,-- + +"I think we ought to proceed at once to the place where the crime has +been committed." + +"I was going to suggest it to you," replied M. Daubigeon. + +"The gendarmes ought to be notified." + +"M. Seneschal has just sent them word." + +The magistrate was so much excited, that his cold impassiveness +actually threatened to give way for once. + +"There has been an attempt at murder." + +"Evidently." + +"Then we can act in concert, and side by side, each one in his own +line of duty, you examining, and I preparing for the trial." + +An ironical smile passed over the lips of the commonwealth attorney. + +"You ought to know me well enough," he said, "to be sure that I have +never interfered with your duties and privileges. I am nothing but a +good old fellow, a friend of peace and of studies. + + 'Sum piger et senior, Pieridumque comes.' " + +"Then," exclaimed M. Seneschal, "nothing keeps us here any longer. I +am impatient to be off; my carriage is ready; let us go!" + + + + II. + +In a straight line it is only a mile from Sauveterre to Valpinson; but +that mile is as long as two elsewhere. M. Seneschal, however, had a +good horse, "the best perhaps in the county," he said, as he got into +his carriage. In ten minutes they had overtaken the firemen, who had +left some time before them. And yet these good people, all of them +master workmen of Sauveterre, masons, carpenters, and tilers, hurried +along as fast as they could. They had half a dozen smoking torches +with them to light them on the way: they walked, puffing and groaning, +on the bad road, and pulling the two engines, together with the heavy +cart on which they had piled up their ladders and other tools. + +"Keep up, my friends!" said the mayor as he passed them,--"keep up!" +Three minutes farther on, a peasant on horseback appeared in the dark, +riding along like a forlorn knight in a romance. M. Daubigeon ordered +him to halt. He stopped. + +"You come from Valpinson?" asked M. Seneschal. + +"Yes," replied the peasant. + +"How is the count?" + +"He has come to at last." + +"What does the doctor say?" + +"He says he will live. I am going to the druggist to get some +medicines." M. Galpin, to hear better, was leaning out of the +carriage. He asked,-- + +"Do they accuse any one?" + +"No." + +"And the fire?" + +"They have water enough," replied the peasant, "but no engines: so +what can they do? And the wind is rising again! Oh, what a +misfortune!" + +He rode off as fast as he could, while M. Seneschal was whipping his +poor horse, which, unaccustomed as it was to such treatment, instead +of going any faster, only reared, and jumped from side to side. The +excellent man was in despair. He looked upon this crime as if it had +been committed on purpose to disgrace him, and to do the greatest +possible injury to his administration. + +"For after all," he said, for the tenth time to his companions, "is it +natural, I ask you, is it sensible, that a man should think of +attacking the Count and the Countess Claudieuse, the most +distinguished and the most esteemed people in the whole county, and +especially a lady whose name is synonymous with virtue and charity?" + +And, without minding the ruts and the stones in the road, M. Seneschal +went on repeating all he knew about the owners of Valpinson. + +Count Trivulce Claudieuse was the last scion of one of the oldest +families of the county. At sixteen, about 1829, he had entered the +navy as an ensign, and for many years he had appeared at Sauveterre +only rarely, and at long intervals. In 1859 he had become a captain, +and was on the point of being made admiral, when he had all of a +sudden sent in his resignation, and taken up his residence at the +Castle of Valpinson, although the house had nothing to show of its +former splendor but two towers falling to pieces, and an immense mass +of ruin and rubbish. For two years he had lived here alone, busy with +building up the old house as well as it could be done, and by great +energy and incessant labor restoring it to some of its former +splendor. It was thought he would finish his days in this way, when +one day the report arose that he was going to be married. The report, +for once, proved true. + +One fine day Count Claudieuse had left for Paris; and, a few days +later, his friends had been informed by letter that he had married the +daughter of one of his former colleagues, Miss Genevieve de Tassar. +The amazement had been universal. The count looked like a gentleman, +and was very well preserved; but he was at least forty-seven years +old, and Miss Genevieve was hardly twenty. Now, if the bride had been +poor, they would have understood the match, and approved it: it is but +natural that a poor girl should sacrifice her heart to her daily +bread. But here it was not so. The Marquis de Tassar was considered +wealthy; and report said that his daughter had brought her husband +fifty thousand dollars. + +Next they had it that the bride was fearfully ugly, infirm, or at +least hunchback, perhaps idiotic, or, at all events, of frightful +temper. + +By no means. She had come down; and everybody was amazed at her noble, +quiet beauty. She had conversed with them, and charmed everybody. + +Was it really a love-match, as people called it at Sauveterre? Perhaps +so. Nevertheless there was no lack of old ladies who shook their +heads, and said twenty-seven years difference between husband and wife +was too much, and such a match could not turn out well. + +All these dark forebodings came to nought. The fact was, that, for +miles and miles around, there was not a happier couple to be found +than the Count and the Countess Claudieuse; and two children, girls, +who had appeared at an interval of four years, seemed to have secured +the happiness of the house forever. + +It is true the count retained somewhat of the haughty manners, the +reserve, and the imperious tone, which he had acquired during the time +that he controlled the destinies of certain important colonies. He +was, moreover, naturally so passionate, that the slightest excitement +made him turn purple in his face. But the countess was as gentle and +as sweet as he was violent; and as she never failed to step in between +her husband and the object of his wrath, as both he and she were +naturally just, kind to excess, and generous to all, they were beloved +by everybody. There was only one point on which the count was rather +unmanageable, and that was the game laws. He was passionately fond of +hunting, and watched all the year round with almost painful +restlessness over his preserves, employing a number of keepers, and +prosecuting poachers with such energy, that people said he would +rather miss a hundred napoleons than a single bird. + +The count and the countess lived quite retired, and gave their whole +time, he to agricultural pursuits, and she to the education of her +children. They entertained but little, and did not come to Sauveterre +more than four times a year, to visit the Misses Lavarande, or the old +Baron de Chandore. Every summer, towards the end of July, they went to +Royan, where they had a cottage. When the season opened, and the count +went hunting, the countess paid a visit to her relatives in Paris, +with whom she usually stayed a few weeks. + +It required a storm like that of 1870 to overthrow so peaceful an +existence. When the old captain heard that the Prussians were on +French soil, he felt all the instincts of the soldier and the +Frenchman awake in his heart. He could not be kept at home, and went +to headquarters. Although a royalist at heart, he did not hesitate a +moment to offer his sword to Gambetta, whom he detested. They made him +colonel of a regiment; and he fought like a lion, from the first day +to the last, when he was thrown down and trod under foot in one of +those fearful routs in which a part of Chanzy's army was utterly +destroyed. When the armistice was signed, he returned to Valpinson; +but no one except his wife ever succeeded in making him say a word +about the campaign. He was asked to become a candidate for the +assembly, and would have certainly been elected; but he refused, +saying that he knew how to fight, but not how to talk. + +The commonwealth attorney and the magistrate listened but very +carelessly to these details, with which they were perfectly familiar. +Suddenly M. Galpin asked,-- + +"Are we not getting near? I look and look; but I see no trace of a +fire." + +"We are in a deep valley," replied the mayor. "But we are quite near +now, and, at the top of that hill before us, you will see enough." + +This hill is well known in the whole province, and is frequently +called the Sauveterre Mountain. It is so steep, and consists of such +hard granite, that the engineers who laid out the great turnpike +turned miles out of their way to avoid it. It overlooks the whole +country; and, when M. Seneschal and his companions had reached the +top, they could not control their excitement. + +"Horresco!" murmured the attorney. + +The burning house itself was hid by high trees; but columns of fire +rose high above the tops, and illumined the whole region with their +sombre light. The whole country was in a state of excitement. The +short, square tower of Brechy sent the alarm from its big bell; and in +the deep shade on all sides was heard the strange sound of the huge +shells which the people here use for signals, and for the summoning of +laborers at mealtimes. Hurried steps were heard on all the high-roads +and by-roads; and peasants were continuously rushing by, with a bucket +in each hand. + +"It is too late for help," said M. Galpin. + +"Such a fine property!" said the mayor, "and so well managed!" And +regardless of danger, he dashed forward, down the hill; for Valpinson +lies in a deep valley, half a mile from the river. Here all was +terror, disorder, and confusion; and yet there was no lack of hands or +of good-will. At the first alarm, all the people of the neighborhood +had hurried up, and there were more coming every moment; but there was +no one there to assume the command. They were mainly engaged in saving +the furniture. The boldest tried to get into the rooms, and in a kind +of rage, threw every thing they could lay hold on out of the window. +Thus the courtyard was already half full of beds and mattresses, +chairs and tables, books, linen, and clothes. + +An immense clamor greeted the mayor and his companions. + +"Here comes the mayor!" cried the peasants, encouraged by his +presence, and all ready to obey him. + +M. Seneschal took in the whole situation at a glance. + +"Yes, here I am, my friends," he said, "and I thank you for your zeal. +Now we must try not to waste our efforts. The farm buildings and the +workshops are lost: we must give them up. Let us try to save the +dwelling-house. The river is not far. We must form a chain. Everybody +in line,--men and women! And now for water, water! Here come the +engines!" + +They really came thundering up: the firemen appeared on the scene. +Capt. Parenteau took the command. At last the mayor was at leisure to +inquire after Count Claudieuse. + +"Master is down there," replied an old woman, pointing at a little +cottage with a thatched roof. "The doctor has had him carried there." + +"Let us go and see how he is," said the mayor to his two companions. +They stopped at the door of the only room of the cottage. It was a +large room with a floor of beaten clay; while overhead the blackened +beams were full of working tools and parcels of seeds. Two beds with +twisted columns and yellow curtains filled one side: on that on the +left hand lay a little girl, four years old, fast asleep, and rolled +up in a blanket, watched over by her sister, who was two or three +years older. On the other bed, Count Claudieuse was lying, or rather +sitting; for they had supported his back by all the pillows that had +been saved from the fire. His chest was bare, and covered with blood; +and a man, Dr. Seignebos, with his coat off, and his sleeves rolled up +above the elbows, was bending over him, and holding a sponge in one +hand and a probe in the other, seemed to be engaged in a delicate and +dangerous operation. + +The countess, in a light muslin dress, was standing at the foot of her +husband's bed, pale but admirably composed and resigned. She was +holding a lamp, and moved it to and fro as the doctor directed. In a +corner two servant-women were sitting on a box, and crying, their +aprons turned over their heads. + +At last the mayor of Sauveterre overcame his painful impressions, and +entered the room. Count Claudieuse was the first to perceive him, and +said,-- + +"Ah, here is our good M. Seneschal. Come nearer, my friend; come +nearer. You see the year 1871 is a fatal year. It will soon leave me +nothing but a few handfuls of ashes of all I possessed." + +"It is a great misfortune," replied the excellent mayor; "but, after +all, it is less than we apprehended. God be thanked, you are safe!" + +"Who knows? I am suffering terribly." + +The countess trembled. + +"Trivulce!" she whispered in a tone of entreaty. "Trivulce!" + +Never did lover glance at his beloved with more tenderness than Count +Claudieuse did at his wife. + +"Pardon me, my dear Genevieve, pardon me, if I show any want of +courage." + +A sudden nervous spasm seized him; and then he exclaimed in a loud +voice, which sounded like a trumpet,-- + +"Sir! But sir! Thunder and lightning! You kill me!" + +"I have some chloroform here," replied the physician coldly. + +"I do not want any." + +"Then you must make up your mind to suffer, and keep quiet now; for +every motion adds to your pain." + +Then sponging a jet of blood which spurted out from under his knife, +he added,-- + +"However, you shall have a few minutes rest now. My eyes and my hand +are exhausted. I see I am no longer young." + +Dr. Seignebos was sixty years old. He was a small, thin man, with a +bald head and a bilious complexion, carelessly dressed, and spending +his life in taking off, wiping, and putting back again his large gold +spectacles. His reputation was widespread; and they told of wonderful +cures which he had accomplished. Still he had not many friends. The +common people disliked his bitterness; the peasants, his strictness in +demanding his fees; and the townspeople, his political views. + +There was a story that one evening, at a public dinner, he had gotten +up and said, "I drink to the memory of the only physician of whose +pure and chaste renown I am envious,--the memory of my countryman, Dr. +Guillotin of Saintes!" + +Had he really offered such a toast? The fact is, he pretended to be a +fierce radical, and was certainly the soul and the oracle of the small +socialistic clubs in the neighborhood. People looked aghast when he +began to talk of the reforms which he thought necessary; and they +trembled when he proclaimed his convictions, that "the sword and the +torch ought to search the rotten foundations of society." + +These opinions, certain utilitarian views of like eccentricity, and +still stranger experiments which he openly carried on before the whole +world, had led people more than once to doubt the soundness of his +mind. The most charitable said, "He is an oddity." This eccentric man +had naturally no great fondness for M. Seneschal, the mayor, a former +lawyer, and a legitimist. He did not think much of the commonwealth +attorney, a useless bookworm. But he detested M. Galpin. Still he +bowed to the three men; and, without minding his patient, he said to +them,-- + +"You see, gentlemen, Count Claudieuse is in a bad plight. He has been +fired at with a gun loaded with small shot; and wounds made in that +way are very puzzling. I trust no vital part has been injured; but I +cannot answer for any thing. I have often in my practice seen very +small injuries, wounds caused by a small-sized shot, which, +nevertheless, proved fatal, and showed their true character only +twelve or fifteen hours after the accident had happened." + +He would have gone on in this way, if the magistrate had not suddenly +interrupted him, saying,-- + +"Doctor, you know I am here because a crime has been committed. The +criminal has to be found out, and to be punished: hence I request your +assistance, from this moment, in the name of the Law." + + + + III. + +By this single phrase M. Galpin made himself master of the situation, +and reduced the doctor to an inferior position, in which, it is true, +he had the mayor and the commonwealth attorney to bear him company. +There was nothing now to be thought of, but the crime that had been +committed, and the judge who was to punish the author. But he tried in +vain to assume all the rigidity of his official air and that contempt +for human feelings which has made justice so hateful to thousands. His +whole being was impregnated with intense satisfaction, up to his +beard, cut and trimmed like the box-hedges of an old-fashioned garden. + +"Well, doctor," he asked, "first of all, have you any objection to my +questioning your patient?" + +"It would certainly be better for him to be left alone," growled Dr. +Seignebos. "I have made him suffer enough this last hour; and I shall +directly begin again cutting out the small pieces of lead which have +honeycombed his flesh. But if it must be"-- + +"It must be." + +"Well, then, make haste; for the fever will set in presently." + +M. Daubigeon could not conceal his annoyance. He called out,-- + +"Galpin, Galpin!" + +The other man paid no attention. Having taken a note-book and a pencil +from his pocket, he drew up close to the sick man's bed, and asked him +in an undertone,-- + +"Are you strong enough, count, to answer my questions?" + +"Oh, perfectly!" + +"Then, pray tell me all you know of the sad events of to-night." + +With the aid of his wife and Dr. Seignebos, the count raised himself +on his pillows, and began thus,-- + +"Unfortunately, the little I know will be of no use in aiding justice +to discover the guilty man. It may have been eleven o'clock, for I am +not even quite sure of the hour, when I had gone to bed, and just +blown out my candle: suddenly a bright light fell upon the window. I +was amazed, and utterly confused; for I was in that state of +sleepiness which is not yet sleep, but very much like it. I said to +myself, 'What can this be?' but I did not get up: I only was roused by +a great noise, like the crash of a falling wall; and then I jumped out +of bed, and said to myself, 'The house is on fire!' What increased my +anxiety was the fact, which I at once recollected, that there were in +the courtyard, and all around the house, some sixteen thousand bundles +of dry wood, which had been cut last year. Half dressed, I rushed +downstairs. I was very much bewildered, I confess, and could hardly +succeed in opening the outer door: still I did open it at last. But I +had barely put my foot on the threshold, when I felt in my right side, +a little above the hip, a fierce pain, and heard at the same time, +quite close to me, a shot." + +The magistrate interrupted him by a gesture. + +"Your statement, count, is certainly remarkably clear. But there is +one point we must try to establish. Were you really fired at the +moment you showed yourself at the door?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then the murderer must have been quite near on the watch. He must +have known that the fire would bring you out; and he was lying in wait +for you." + +"That was and still is my impression," declared the count. + +M. Galpin turned to M. Daubigeon. + +"Then," he said to him, "the murder is the principal fact with which +we have to do; and the fire is only an aggravating circumstance,--the +means which the criminal employed in order to succeed the better in +perpetrating his crime." + +Then, returning to the count, he said,-- + +"Pray go on." + +"When I felt I was wounded," continued Count Claudieuse, "my first +impulse was instinctively to rush forward to the place from which the +gun seemed to have been fired at me. I had not proceeded three yards, +when I felt the same pain once more in the shoulder and in the neck. +This second wound was more serous than the first; for I lost my +consciousness, my head began to swim and I fell." + +"You had not seen the murderer?" + +"I beg your pardon. At the moment when I fell, I thought I saw a man +rush forth from behind a pile of fagots, cross the courtyard, and +disappear in the fields." + +"Would you recognize him?" + +"No." + +"But you saw how he was dressed: you can give me a description?" + +"No, I cannot. I felt as if there was a veil before my eyes; and he +passed me like a shadow." + +The magistrate could hardly conceal his disappointment. + +"Never mind," he said, "we'll find him out. But go on, sir." + +The count shook his head. + +"I have nothing more to say," he replied. "I had fainted; and when I +recovered my consciousness, some hours later, I found myself here +lying on this bed." + +M. Galpin noted down the count's answers with scrupulous exactness: +when he had done, he asked again,-- + +"We must return to the details of the attack, and examine them +minutely. Now, however, it is important to know what happened after +you fell. Who could tell us that?" + +"My wife, sir." + +"I thought so. The countess, no doubt, got up when you rose." + +"My wife had not gone to bed." + +The magistrate turned suddenly to the countess; and at a glance he +perceived that her costume was not that of a lady who had been +suddenly roused from slumber by the burning of her house." + +"I see," he said to himself. + +"Bertha," the count went on to state, "our youngest daughter, who is +lying there on that bed, under the blanket, has the measles, and is +suffering terribly. My wife was sitting up with her. Unfortunately the +windows of her room look upon the garden, on the side opposite to that +where the fire broke out." + +"How, then, did the countess become award of the accident?" asked the +magistrate. + +Without waiting for a more direct question, the countess came forward +and said,-- + +"As my husband has just told you, I was sitting up with my little +Bertha. I was rather tired; for I had sat up the night before also, +and I had begun to nod, when a sudden noise aroused me. I was not +quite sure whether I had really heard such a noise; but just then a +second shot was heard. I left the room more astonished than +frightened. Ah, sir! The fire had already made such headway, that the +staircase was as light as in broad day. I went down in great haste. +The outer door was open. I went out; and there, some five or six yards +from me, I saw, by the light of the flames, the body of my husband +lying on the ground. I threw myself upon him; but he did not even hear +me; his heart had ceased to beat. I thought he was dead; I called for +help; I was in despair." + +M. Seneschal and M. Daubigeon trembled with excitement. + +"Well, very well!" said M. Galpin, with an air of satisfaction,--"very +well done!" + +"You know," continued the countess, "how hard it is to rouse country- +people. It seems to me I remained ever so long alone there, kneeling +by the side of my husband. At last the brightness of the fire awakened +some of the farm-hands, the workmen, and our servants. They rushed +out, crying, 'Fire!' When they saw me, they ran up and helped me carry +my husband to a place of safety; for the danger was increasing every +minute. The fire was spreading with terrific violence, thanks to a +furious wind. The barns were one vast mass of fire; the outbuildings +were burning; the distillery was in a blaze; and the roof of the +dwelling-house was flaming up in various places. And there was not one +cool head among them all. I was so utterly bewildered, that I forgot +all about my children; and their room was already in flames, when a +brave, bold fellow rushed in, and snatched them from the very jaws of +death. I did not come to myself till Dr. Seignebos arrived, and spoke +to me words of hope. This fire will probably ruin us; but what matters +that, so long as my husband and my children are safe?" + +Dr. Seignebos had more than once given utterance to his contemptuous +impatience: he did not appreciate these preliminary steps. The others, +however, the mayor, the attorney, and even the servants, had hardly +been able to suppress their excitement. He shrugged his shoulders, and +growled between his teeth,-- + +"Mere formalities! How petty! How childish!" + +After having taken off his spectacles, wiped them and replaced them +twenty times, he had sat down at the rickety table in the corner of +the room, and amused himself with arranging the fifteen or twenty shot +he had extracted from the count's wounds, in long lines or small +circles. But, when the countess uttered her last words, he rose, and, +turning to M. Galpin, said in a curt tone,-- + +"Now, sir, I hope you will let me have my patient again." + +The magistrate was not a little incensed: there was reason enough, +surely; and, frowning fiercely, he said,-- + +"I appreciate, sir, the importance of your duties; but mine are, I +think, by no means less solemn nor less urgent." + +"Oh!" + +"Consequently you will be pleased, sir, to grant me five minutes +more." + +"Ten, if it must be, sir. Only I warn you that every minute henceforth +may endanger the life of my patient." + +They had drawn near to each other, and were measuring each other with +defiant looks, which betrayed the bitterest animosity. They would +surely not quarrel at the bedside of a dying man? The countess seemed +to fear such a thing; for she said reproachfully,-- + +"Gentlemen, I pray, gentlemen"-- + +Perhaps her intervention would have been of no avail, if M. Seneschal +and M. Daubigeon had not stepped in, each addressing one of the two +adversaries. M. Galpin was apparently the most obstinate of the two; +for, in spite of all, he began once more to question the count, and +said,-- + +"I have only one more question to ask you, sir: Where and how were you +standing, where and how do you think the murderer was standing, at the +moment when the crime was committed?" + +"Sir," replied the count, evidently with a great effort, "I was +standing, as I told you, on the threshold of my door, facing the +courtyard. The murderer must have been standing some twenty yards off, +on my right, behind a pile of wood." + +When he had written down the answer of the wounded man, the magistrate +turned once more to the physician, and said,-- + +"You heard what was said, sir. It is for you now to aid justice by +telling us at what distance the murderer must have been when he +fired." + +"I don't guess riddles," replied the physician coarsely. + +"Ah, have a care, sir!" said M. Galpin. "Justice, whom I here +represent, has the right and the means to enforce respect. You are a +physician, sir; and your science is able to answer my question with +almost mathematical accuracy." + +The physician laughed, and said,-- + +"Ah, indeed! Science has reached that point, has it? Which science? +Medical jurisprudence, no doubt,--that part of our profession which is +at the service of the courts, and obeys the judges' behests." + +"Sir!" + +But the doctor was not the man to allow himself to be defeated a +second time. He went on coolly,-- + +"I know what you are going to say; there is no handbook of medical +jurisprudence which does not peremptorily settle the question you ask +me. I have studied these handbooks, these formidable weapons which you +gentlemen of the bar know so well how to handle. I know the opinions +of a Devergie and an Orfila, I know even what Casper and Tardieu, and +a host of others teach on that subject. I am fully aware that these +gentlemen claim to be able to tell you by the inch at what distance a +shot has been fired. But I am not so skilful. I am only a poor +country-practitioner, a simple healer of diseases. And before I give +an opinion which may cost a poor devil his life, innocent though he +be, I must have time to reflect, to consult data, and to compare other +cases in my practice." + +He was so evidently right in reality, if not in form, that even M. +Galpin gave way. + +"It is merely as a matter of information that I request your opinion, +sir," he replied. "Your real and carefully-considered professional +opinion will, of course, be given in a special statement." + +"Ah, if that is the case!" + +"Pray, inform me, then unofficially, what you think of the nature of +the wounds of Count Claudieuse." + +Dr. Seignebos settled his spectacles ceremoniously on his nose, and +then replied,-- + +"My impression, so far as I am now able to judge, is that the count +has stated the facts precisely as they were. I am quite ready to +believe that the murderer was lying in ambush behind one of the piles +of wood, and at the distance which he has mentioned. I am also able to +affirm that the two shots were fired at different distances,--one much +nearer than the other. The proof of it lies in the nature of the +wounds, one of which, near the hip may be scientifically called"-- + +"But we know at what distance a ball is spent," broke in M. Seneschal, +whom the doctor's dogmatic tone began to annoy. + +"Ah, do we know that, indeed? You know it, M. Seneschal? Well, I +declare I do not know it. To be sure, I bear in mind, what you seem to +forget, that we have no longer, as in former days, only three or four +kinds of guns. Did you think of the immense variety of fire-arms, +French and English, American and German, which are nowadays found in +everybody's hands? Do you not see, you who have been a lawyer and a +magistrate, that the whole legal question will be based upon this +grave and all-important point?" + +Thereupon the physician resumed his instruments, resolved to give no +other answer, and was about to go to work once more when fearful cries +were heard without; and the lawyers, the mayor, and the countess +herself, rushed at once to the door. + +These cries were, unfortunately, not uttered without cause. The roof +of the main building had just fallen in, burying under its ruins the +poor drummer who had a few hours ago beaten the alarm, and one of the +firemen, the most respected carpenter in Sauveterre, and a father of +five children. + +Capt. Parenteau seemed to be maddened by this disaster; and all vied +with each other in efforts to rescue the poor fellows, who were +uttering shrieks of horror that rose high above the crash of falling +timbers. But all their endeavors were unavailing. One of the gendarmes +and a farmer, who had nearly succeeded in reaching the sufferers, +barely escaped being burnt themselves, and were only rescued after +having been dangerously injured. Then only it seemed as if all became +fully aware of the abominable crime committed by the incendiary. Then +only the clouds of smoke and the columns of fire, which rose high into +the air, were accompanied by fierce cries of vengeance rising +heavenwards. + +"Death to the incendiary! Death!" + +At the moment M. Seneschal felt himself inspired with a sudden +thought. He knew how cautious peasants are, and how difficult it is to +make them tell what they know. He climbed, therefore, upon a heap of +fallen beams, and said in a clear, loud voice,-- + +"Yes, my friends, you are right: death to the incendiary! Yes, the +unfortunate victims of the basest of all crimes must be avenged. We +must find out the incendiary; we must! You want it to be done, don't +you? Well, it depends only on you. There must be some one among you +who knows something about this matter. Let him come forward and tell +us what he has seen or heard. Remember that the smallest trifle may be +a clew to the crime. You would be as bad as the incendiary himself, if +you concealed him. Just think it over, consider." + +Loud voices were heard in the crowd; then suddenly a voice said,-- + +"There is one here who can tell." + +"Who?" + +"Cocoleu. He was there from the beginning. It was he who went and +brought the children of the countess out of their room. What has +become of him?--Cocoleu, Cocoleu!" + +One must have lived in the country, among these simple-minded +peasants, to understand the excitement and the fury of all these men +and women as they crowded around the ruins of Valpinson. People in +town do not mind brigands, in general: they have their gas, their +strong doors, and the police. They are generally little afraid of +fire. They have their fire-alarms; and at the first spark the neighbor +cries, "Fire!" The engines come racing up; and water comes forth as if +by magic. But it is very different in the country: here every man is +constantly under a sense of his isolation. A simple latch protects his +door; and no one watches over his safety at night. If a murderer +should attack him, his cries could bring no help. If fire should break +out, his house would be burnt down before the neighbors could reach +it; and he is happy who can save his own life and that of his family. +Hence all these good people, whom the mayor's words had deeply +excited, were eager to find out the only man who knew anything about +this calamity, Cocoleu. + +He was well known among them, and for many years. + +There was not one among them who had not given him a piece of bread, +or a bowl of soup, when he was hungry; not one of them had ever +refused him a night's rest on the straw in his barn, when it was +raining or freezing, and the poor fellow wanted a shelter. + +For Cocoleu was one of those unfortunate beings who labor under a +grievous physical or moral deformity. + +Some twenty years ago, a wealthy land-owner in Brechy had sent to the +nearest town for half a dozen painters, whom he kept at his house +nearly a whole summer, painting and decorating his newly-built house. +One of these men had seduced a girl in the neighborhood, whom he had +bewitched by his long white blouse, his handsome brown mustache, his +good spirits, gay songs, and flattering speeches. But, when the work +was done, the tempter had flown away with the others, without thinking +any more of the poor girl than of the last cigar which he had smoked. + +And yet she was expecting a child. When she could no longer conceal +her condition, she was turned out of the house in which she had been +employed; and her family, unable to support themselves, drove her away +without mercy. Overcome with grief, shame, and remorse, poor Colette +wandered from farm to farm, begging, insulted, laughed at, beaten even +at times. Thus it came about, that in a dark wood, one dismal winter +evening, she gave life to a male child. No one ever understood how +mother and child managed to survive. But both lived; and for many a +year they were seen in and around Sauveterre, covered with rags, and +living upon the dear-bought generosity of the peasants. + +Then the mother died, utterly forsaken by human help, as she had +lived. They found her body, one morning, in a ditch by the wayside. + +The child survived alone. He was then eight years old, quite strong +and tall for his age. A farmer took pity on him, and took him home. +The little wretch was not fit for anything: he could not even keep his +master's cows. During his mother's lifetime, his silence, his wild +looks, and his savage appearance, had been attributed to his wretched +mode of life. But when people began to be interested in him, they +found out that his intellect had never been aroused. He was an idiot, +and, besides, subject to that terrible nervous affection which at +times shakes the whole body and disfigures the face by the violence of +uncontrollable convulsions. He was not a deaf-mute; but he could only +stammer out with intense difficulty a few disjointed syllables. +Sometimes the country people would say to him,-- + +"Tell us your name, and you shall have a cent." + +Then it took him five minutes' hard work to utter, amid a thousand +painful contortions, the name of his mother. + +"Co-co-co-lette." + +Hence came his name Cocoleu. It had been ascertained that he was +utterly unable to do anything; and people ceased to interest +themselves in his behalf. The consequence was, that he became a +vagabond as of old. + +It was about this time that Dr. Seignebos, on one of his visits, met +him one day on the public road. + +This excellent man had, among other extraordinary notions, the +conviction that idiocy is nothing more than a defective state of the +brains, which may be remedied by the use of certain well-known +substances, such as phosphorus, for instance. He lost no time in +seizing upon this admirable opportunity to test his theory. Cocoleu +was sent for, and installed in his house. He subjected him to a +treatment which he kept secret; and only a druggist at Sauveterre, who +was also well known as entertaining very extraordinary notions, knew +what had happened. At the end of eighteen months, Cocoleu had fallen +off terribly: he talked perhaps, a little more fluently; but his +intellect had not been perceptibly improved. + +Dr. Seignebos was discouraged. He made up a parcel of things which he +had given to his patient, put it into his hands, pushed him out of his +door, and told him never to come back again. + +The doctor had rendered Cocoleu a sad service. The poor idiot had lost +the habit of privation: he had forgotten how to go from door to door, +asking for alms; and he would have perished, if his good fortune had +not led him to knock at the door of the house at Valpinson. + +Count Claudieuse and his wife were touched by his wretchedness, and +determined to take charge of him. They gave him a room and a bed at +one of the farmhouses; but they could never induce him to stay there. +He was by nature a vagabond; and the instinct was too strong for him. +In winter, frost and snow kept him in for a little while; but as soon +as the first leaves came out, he went wandering again through forest +and field, remaining absent often for weeks altogether. + +At last, however, something seemed to have been aroused in him, which +looked like the instinct of a domesticated animal. His attachment to +the countess resembled that of a dog, even in the capers and cries +with which he greeted her whenever he saw her. Often, when she went +out, he accompanied her, running and frolicking around her just like a +dog. He was also very fond of little girls, and seemed to resent it +when he was kept from them: for people were afraid his nervous attacks +might affect the children. + +With time he had also become capable of performing some simple +service. He could be intrusted with certain messages: he could water +the flowers, summon a servant, or even carry a letter to the post- +office at Brechy. His progress in this respect was so marked, that +some of the more cunning peasants began to suspect that Cocoleu was +not so "innocent," after all, as he looked, and that he was cleverly +playing the fool in order to enjoy life easily. + +"We have him at last," cried several voices at once. "Here he is; here +he is!" + +The crowd made way promptly; and almost immediately a young man +appeared, led and pushed forward by several persons. Cocoleu's +clothes, all in disorder, showed clearly that he had offered a stout +resistance. He was a youth of about eighteen years, very tall, quite +beardless, excessively thin, and so loosely jointed, that he looked +like a hunchback. A mass of reddish hair came down his low, retreating +forehead. His small eyes, his enormous mouth bristling with sharp +teeth, his broad flat nose, and his immense ears, gave to his face a +strange idiotic expression, and to his whole appearance a most painful +brutish air. + +"What must we do with him?" asked the peasants of the mayor. + +"We must take him before the magistrate, my friends," replied M. +Seneschal,--"down there in that cottage, where you have carried the +count." + +"And we'll make him talk," threatened his captors. "You hear! Go on, +quick!" + + + + IV. + +M. Galpin and the doctor had both considered it a point of honor who +should show the most perfect indifference; and thus they had betrayed +by no sign their curiosity to know what was going on out doors. Dr. +Seignebos was on the point of resuming the operation; and, as coolly +as if he had been in his own rooms at home, he was washing the sponge +which he had just used, and wiping his instruments. The magistrate, on +the other hand, was standing in the centre of the room, his arms +crossed, his eyes fixed upon the infinite, apparently. It may be he +was thinking of his star which had at last brought him that famous +criminal case for which he had ardently longed many a year. + +Count Claudieuse, however, was very far from sharing their reserve. He +was tossing about on his bed; and as soon as the mayor and his friend +reappeared, looking quite upset, he exclaimed,-- + +"What does that uproar mean?" + +And, when he had heard of the calamity, he added,-- + +"Great God! And I was complaining of my losses. Two men killed! That +is a real misfortune. Poor men! to die because they were so brave,-- +Bolton hardly thirty years old; Guillebault, a father of a family, who +leaves five children, and not a cent!" + +The countess, coming in at that moment, heard his last words. + +"As long as we have a mouthful of bread," she said in a voice full of +deep emotion, "neither Bolton's mother, nor Guillebault's children, +shall ever know what want is." + +She could not say another word; for at that moment the peasants +crowded into the room, pushing the prisoner before them. + +"Where is the magistrate?" they asked. "Here is a witness!" + +"What, Cocoleu!" exclaimed the count. + +"Yes, he knows something: he said so himself. We want him to tell it +to the magistrate. We want the incendiary to be caught." + +Dr. Seignebos had frowned fiercely. He execrated Cocoleu, whose sight +recalled to him that great failure which the good people of Sauveterre +were not likely to forget soon. + +"You do not really mean to examine him?" he asked, turning to M. +Galpin. + +"Why not?" answered the magistrate dryly. + +"Because he is an imbecile, sir, an idiot. Because he cannot possibly +understand your questions, or the importance of his answers." + +"He may give us a valuable hint, nevertheless." + +"He? A man who has no sense? You don't really think so. The law cannot +attach any importance to the evidence of a fool." + +M. Galpin betrayed his impatience by an increase of stiffness, as he +replied,-- + +"I know my duty, sir." + +"And I," replied the physician,--"I also know what I have to do. You +have summoned me to assist you in this investigation. I obey; and I +declare officially, that the mental condition of this unfortunate man +makes his evidence utterly worthless. I appeal to the commonwealth +attorney." + +He had hoped for a word of encouragement from M. Daubigeon; but +nothing came. Then he went on,-- + +"Take care, sir, or you may get yourself into trouble. What would you +do if this poor fellow should make a formal charge against any one? +Could you attach any weight to his word?" + +The peasants were listening with open mouths. One of them said,-- + +"Oh! Cocoleu is not so innocent as he looks." + +"He can say very well what he wants to say, the scamp!" added another. + +"At all events, I am indebted to him for the life of my children," +said the count gently. "He thought of them when I was unconscious, and +when no one else remembered them. Come, Cocoleu, come nearer, my +friend, don't be afraid: there is no one here to hurt you." + +It was very well the count used such kind words; for Cocoleu was +thoroughly terrified by the brutal treatment he had received, and was +trembling in all his limbs. + +"I am--not--a--afraid," he stammered out. + +"Once more I protest," said the physician. + +He had found out that he stood not alone in his opinion. Count +Claudieuse came to his assistance, saying,-- + +"I really think it might be dangerous to question Cocoleu." + +But the magistrate was master of the situation, and conscious of all +the powers conferred upon him by the laws of France in such cases. + +"I must beg, gentlemen," he said, in a tone which did not allow of any +reply,--"I must beg to be permitted to act in my own way." + +And sitting down, he asked Cocoleu,-- + +"Come, my boy, listen to me, and try to understand what I say. Do you +know what has happened at Valpinson?" + +"Fire," replied the idiot. + +"Yes, my friend, fire, which burns down the house of your benefactor, +--fire, which has killed two good men. But that is not all: they have +tried to murder the count. Do you see him there in his bed, wounded, +and covered with blood? Do you see the countess, how she suffers?" + +Did Cocoleu follow him? His distorted features betrayed nothing of +what might be going on within him. + +"Nonsense!" growled the doctor, "what obstinacy! What folly!" + +M. Galpin heard him, and said angrily,-- + +"Sir, do not force me to remind you that I have not far from here, men +whose duty it is to see that my authority is respected here." + +Then, turning again to the poor idiot, he went on,-- + +"All these misfortunes are the work of a vile incendiary. You hate +him, don't you; you detest him, the rascal!" + +"Yes," said Cocoleu. + +"You want him to be punished, don't you?" + +"Yes, yes!" + +"Well, then you must help me to find him out, so that the gendarmes +may catch him, and put him in jail. You know who it is; you have told +these people and"-- + +He paused, and after a moment, as Cocoleu kept silent, he asked,-- + +"But, now I think of it, whom has this poor fellow talked to?" + +Not one of the peasants could tell. They inquired; but no answer came. +Perhaps Cocoleu had never said what he was reported to have said. + +"The fact is," said one of the tenants at Valpinson, "that the poor +devil, so to say, never sleeps, and that he is roaming about all night +around the house and the farm buildings." + +This was a new light for M. Galpin; suddenly changing the form of his +interrogatory, he asked Cocoleu,-- + +"Where did you spend the night?" + +"In--in--the--court--yard." + +"Were you asleep when the fire broke out?" + +"No." + +"Did you see it commence?" + +"Yes." + +"How did it commence?" + +The idiot looked fixedly at the Countess Claudieuse with the timid and +abject expression of a dog who tries to read something in his master's +eyes. + +"Tell us, my friend," said the Countess gently,--"tell us." + +A flash of intelligence shone in Cocoleu's eyes. + +"They--they set it on fire," he stammered. + +"On purpose?" + +"Yes." + +"Who?" + +"A gentleman." + +There was not a person present at this extraordinary scene who did not +anxiously hold his breath as the word was uttered. The doctor alone +kept cool, and exclaimed,-- + +"Such an examination is sheer folly!" + +But the magistrate did not seem to hear his words; and, turning to +Cocoleu, he asked him, in a deeply agitated tone of voice-- + +"Did you see the gentleman?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you know who he is?" + +"Very--very--well." + +"What is his name?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"What is his name? Tell us." + +Cocoleu's features betrayed the fearful anguish of his mind. He +hesitated, and at last he answered, making a violent effort,--"Bois-- +Bois--Boiscoran!" + +The name was received with murmurs of indignation and incredulous +laughter. There was not a shadow of doubt or of suspicion. The +peasants said,-- + +"M. de Boiscoran an incendiary! Who does he think will believe that +story?" + +"It is absurd!" said Count Claudieuse. + +"Nonsense!" repeated the mayor and his friend. + +Dr. Siegnebos had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them with +an air of intense satisfaction. + +"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed. "But the gentleman did not +condescend to attach any importance to my suggestions." + +The magistrate was by far the most excited man in the crowd. He had +turned excessively pale, and made, visibly, the greatest efforts to +preserve his equanimity. The commonwealth attorney leaned over towards +him, and whispered,-- + +"If I were in your place, I would stop here, and consider the answer +as not given." + +But M. Galpin was one of those men who are blinded by self-conceit, +and who would rather be cut to pieces than admit that they have been +mistaken. He answered,-- + +"I shall go on." + +Then turning once more to Cocoleu, in the midst of so deep a silence +that the buzzing of a fly would have been distinctly heard, he +asked,-- + +"Do you know, my boy, what you say? Do you know that you are accusing +a man of a horrible crime?" + +Whether Cocoleu understood, or not, he was evidently deeply agitated. +Big drops of perspiration rolled slowly down his temples; and nervous +shocks agitated his limbs, and convulsed his features. + +"I, I--am--telling the--truth!" he said at last. + +"M. de. Boiscoran has set Valpinson on fire?" + +"Yes." + +"How did he do it?" + +Cocoleu's restless eyes wandered incessantly from the count, who +looked indignant, to the countess, who seemed to listen with painful +surprise. The magistrate repeated,-- + +"Speak!" + +After another moment's hesitation, the idiot began to explain what he +had seen; and it took him many minutes to state, amid countless +contortions, and painful efforts to speak, that he had seen M. de +Boiscoran pull out some papers from his pocket, light them with a +match, put them under a rick of straw near by, and push the burning +mass towards two enormous piles of wood which were in close contact +with a vat full of spirits. + +"This is sheer nonsense!" cried the doctor, thus giving words to what +they all seemed to feel. + +But M. Galpin had mastered his excitement. He said solemnly,-- + +"At the first sign of applause or of displeasure, I shall send for the +gendarmes, and have the room cleared." + +Then, turning once more to Cocoleu, he said,-- + +"Since you saw M. de Boiscoran so distinctly, tell us how he was +dressed." + +"He had light trousers on," replied the idiot, stammering still most +painfully, "a dark-brown shooting-jacket, and a big straw hat. His +trousers were stuffed into his boots." + +Two or three peasants looked at each other, as if they had at last hit +upon a suspicious fact. The costume which Cocoleu had so accurately +described was well known to them all. + +"And when he had kindled the fire," said the magistrate again, "what +did he do next?" + +"He hid behind the woodpile." + +"And then?" + +"He loaded his gun, and, when master came out, he fired." + +Count Claudieuse was so indignant that he forgot the pain which his +wounds caused him, and raised himself on his bed. + +"It is monstrous," he exclaimed, "to allow an idiot to charge an +honorable man with such a crime! If he really saw M. de Boiscoran set +the house on fire, and hide himself in order to murder me, why did he +not come and warn me?" + +Mr. Galpin repeated the question submissively, to the great amazement +of the mayor and M. Daubigeon. + +"Why did you not give warning?" he asked Cocoleu. + +But the efforts which the unfortunate man had made during the last +half-hour had exhausted his little strength. He broke out into stupid +laughter; and almost instantly one of his fearful nervous attacks +overcame him: he fell down yelling, and had to be carried away. + +The magistrate had risen, pale and deeply excited, but evidently +meditating on what was to be done next. The commonwealth attorney +asked him in an undertone what he was going to do; and the lawyer +replied,-- + +"Prosecute!" + +"What?" + +"Can I do otherwise in my position? God is my witness that I tried my +best, by urging this poor idiot, to prove the absurdity of his +accusation. But the result has disappointed me." + +"And now?" + +"Now I can no longer hesitate. There have been ten witnesses present +at the examination. My honor is at stake. I must establish either the +guilt or the innocence of the man whom Cocoleu accuses." Immediately, +walking up to the count's bed, he asked,-- + +"Will you have the kindness, Count Claudieuse, to tell me what your +relations are to M. de Boiscoran?" + +Surprise and indignation caused the wounded man to blush deeply. + +"Can it be possible, sir, that you believe the words of that idiot?" + +"I believe nothing," answered the magistrate. "My duty is to unravel +the truth; and I mean to do it." + +"The doctor has told you what the state of Cocoleu's mind is?" + +"Count, I beg you will answer my question." + +Count Claudieuse looked angry; but he replied promptly,-- + +"My relations with M. de Boiscoran are neither good nor bad. We have +none." + +"It is reported, I have heard it myself, that you are on bad terms." + +"On no terms at all. I never leave Valpinson, and M. de Boiscoran +spends nine months of the year in Paris. He has never called at my +house, and I have never been in his." + +"You have been overheard speaking of him in unmeasured terms." + +"That may be. We are neither of the same age, nor have we the same +tastes or the same opinions. He is young: I am old. He likes Paris and +the great world: I am fond of solitude and hunting. I am a Legitimist: +he used to be an Orleanist, and now he is a Republican. I believe that +the descendant of our old kings alone can save the country; and he is +convinced that the happiness of France is possible only under a +Republic. But two men may be enemies, and yet esteem each other. M. de +Boiscoran is an honorable man; he has done his duty bravely in the +war, he has fought well, and has been wounded." + +M. Galpin noted down these answers with extreme care. When he had done +so, he continued,-- + +"The question is not one of political opinions only. You have had +personal difficulties with M. de Boiscoran." + +"Of no importance." + +"I beg pardon: you have been at law." + +"Our estates adjoin each other. There is an unlucky brook between us, +which is a source of constant trouble to the neighbors." + +M. Galpin shook his head, and added,-- + +"These are not the only difficulties you have had with each other. +Everybody in the country knows that you have had violent +altercations." + +Count Claudieuse seemed to be in great distress. + +"It is true: we have used hard words. M. de Boiscoran had two wretched +dogs that were continually escaping from his kennels, and came hunting +in my fields. You cannot imagine how much game they destroyed." + +"Exactly so. And one day you met M. de Boiscoran, and you warned him +that you would shoot his dogs." + +"I must confess I was furious. But I was wrong, a thousand times +wrong: I did threaten"-- + +"That is it. You were both of you armed. You threatened one another: +he actually aimed at you. Don't deny it. A number of persons have seen +it; and I know it. He has told me so himself." + + + + V. + +There was not a person in the whole district who did not know of what +a fearful disease poor Cocoleu was suffering; and everybody knew, +also, that it was perfectly useless to try and help him. The two men +who had taken him out had therefore laid him simply on a pile of wet +straw, and then they had left him to himself, eager as they were to +see and hear what was going on. + +It must be said, in justice to the several hundred peasants who were +crowding around the smoking ruins of Valpinson, that they treated the +madman who had accused M. de Boiscoran of such a crime, neither with +cruel jokes nor with fierce curses. Unfortunately, first impulses, +which are apt to be good impulses, do not last long. One of those idle +good-for-nothings, drunkards, envious scamps who are found in every +community, in the country as well as in the city, cried out,-- + +"And why not?" + +These few words opened at once a door to all kinds of bold guesses. + +Everybody had heard something about the quarrel between Count +Claudieuse and M. de Boiscoran. It was well known, moreover, that the +provocation had always come from the count, and that the latter had +invariably given way in the end. Why, therefore, might not M. de +Boiscoran, impatient at last, have resorted to such means in order to +avenge himself on a man whom they thought he must needs hate, and whom +he probably feared at the same time? + +"Perhaps he would not do it, because he is a nobleman, and because he +is rich?" they added sneeringly. + +The next step was, of course, to look out for circumstances which +might support such a theory; and the opportunity was not lacking. +Groups were formed; and soon two men and a woman declared aloud that +they could astonish the world if they chose to talk. They were urged +to tell what they knew; and, of course, they refused. But they had +said too much already. Willing or not willing, they were carried up to +the house, where, at that very moment, M. Galpin was examining Count +Claudieuse. The excited crowd made such a disturbance, that M. +Seneschal, trembling at the idea of a new accident, rushed out to the +door. + +"What is it now?" he asked. + +"More witnesses," replied the peasants. "Here are some more +witnesses." + +The mayor turned round, and, after having exchanged glances with M. +Daubigeon, he said to the magistrate,-- + +"They are bringing you some more witnesses, sir." + +No doubt M. Galpin was little pleased at the interruption; but he knew +the people well enough to bear in mind, that, unless he took them at +the moment when they were willing to talk, he might never be able to +get any thing out of them at any other time. + +"We shall return some other time to our conversation," he said to +Count Claudieuse. + +Then, replying to M. Seneschal, he said,-- + +"Let the witnesses come in, but one by one." + +The first who entered was the only son of a well-to-do farmer in the +village of Brechy, called Ribot. He was a young fellow of about +twenty-five, broad-shouldered, with a very small head, a low brow, and +formidable crimson ears. For twenty miles all around, he was reputed +to be an irresistible beau,--a reputation of which he was very proud. +After having asked him his name, his first names, and his age, M. +Galpin said,-- + +"What do you know?" + +The young man straightened himself, and with a marvellously conceited +air, which set all the peasants a-laughing, he replied,-- + +"I was out that night on some little private business of my own. I was +on the other side of the chateau of Boiscoran. Somebody was waiting +for me, and I was behind time: so I cut right across the marsh. I knew +the rains of the last days would have filled all the ditches; but, +when a man is out on such important business as mine was, he can +always find his way"-- + +"Spare us those tedious details," said the magistrate coldly. The +handsome fellow looked surprised, rather than offended, by the +interruption, and then went on,-- + +"As your Honor desires. Well, it was about eight o'clock, or a little +more, and it was growing dark, when I reached the Seille swamps. They +were overflowing; and the water was two inches above the stones of the +canal. I asked myself how I should get across without spoiling my +clothes, when I saw M. de Boiscoran coming towards me from the other +side." + +"Are you quite sure it was he?" + +"Why, I should think so! I talked to him. But stop, he was not afraid +of getting wet. Without much ado, he rolled up his trousers, stuffed +them into the tops of his tall boots, and went right through. Just +then he saw me, and seemed to be surprised. I was as much so as he +was. 'Why, is it you, sir?' I said. He replied 'Yes: I have to see +somebody at Brechy.' That was very probably so; still I said again, +'But you have chosen a queer way.' He laughed. 'I did not know the +swamps were overflowed,' he answered, 'and I thought I would shoot +some snipes.' As he said this, he showed me his gun. At that moment I +had nothing to say; but now, when I think it over, it looks queer to +me." + +M. Galpin had written down the statement as fast as it was given. Then +he asked,-- + +"How was M. de Boiscoran dressed?" + +"Stop. He had grayish trousers on, a shooting-jacket of brown +velveteen, and a broad-brimmed panama hat." + +The count and the countess looked distressed and almost overcome; nor +did the mayor and his friend seem to be less troubled. One +circumstance in Ribot's evidence seemed to have struck them with +peculiar force,--the fact that he had seen M. de Boiscoran push his +trousers inside his boots. + +"You can go," said M. Galpin to the young man. "Let another witness +come in." + +The next one was an old man of bad reputation, who lived alone in an +old hut two miles from Valpinson. He was called Father Gaudry. Unlike +young Ribot, who had shown great assurance, the old man looked humble +and cringing in his dirty, ill-smelling rags. After having given his +name, he said,-- + +"It might have been eleven o'clock at night, and I was going through +the forest of Rochepommier, along one of the little by-paths"-- + +"You were stealing wood!" said the magistrate sternly. + +"Great God, what an idea!" cried the old man, raising his hands to +heaven. "How can you say such a thing! I steal wood! No, my dear sir, +I was very quietly going to sleep in the forest, so as to be up with +daylight, and gather champignons and other mushrooms to sell at +Sauveterre. Well, I was trotting along, when, all of a sudden, I hear +footsteps behind me. Naturally, I was frightened." + +"Because you were stealing!" + +"Oh, no! my dear sir; only, at night, you understand. Well, I hid +behind a tree; and almost at the same moment I saw M. de Boiscoran +pass by. I recognized him perfectly in spite of the dark; for he +seemed to be in a great rage, talked loud to himself, swore, +gesticulated, and tore handfuls of leaves from the branches." + +"Did he have a gun?" + +"Yes, my dear sir; for that was the very thing that frightened me so. +I thought he was a keeper." + +The third and last witness was a good old woman, Mrs. Courtois, whose +little farm lay on the other side of the forest of Rochepommier. When +she was asked, she hesitated a moment, and then she said,-- + +"I do not know much; but I will tell you all I do know. As we expected +to have a house full of workmen a few days hence, and as I was going +to bake bread to-morrow, I was going with my ass to the mill on +Sauveterre Mountain to fetch flour. The miller had not any ready; but +he told me, if I could wait, he would let me have some: and so I staid +to supper. About ten o'clock, they gave me a bag full of flour. The +boys put it on my ass, and I went home. I was about half-way, and it +was, perhaps, eleven o'clock, when, just at the edge of the forest of +Rochepommier, my ass stumbled, and the bag fell off. I had a great +deal of trouble, for I was not strong enough to lift it alone; and +just then a man came out of the woods, quite near me. I called to him, +and he came. It was M. de Boiscoran: I ask him to help me; and at +once, without losing a moment, he puts his gun down, lifts the bag +from the ground, and puts it on my ass. I thank him. He says, +'Welcome,' and--that is all." + +The mayor had been all this time standing in the door of the chamber, +performing the humble duty of a doorkeeper, and barring the entrance +to the eager and curious crowd outside. When Mrs. Courtois retired, +quite bewildered by her own words, and regretting what she had said, +he called out,-- + +"Is there any one else who knows any thing?" + +As nobody appeared, he closed the door, and said curtly,-- + +"Well, then, you can go home now, my friends. Let the law have free +course." + +The law, represented by the magistrate, was a prey at that moment to +the most cruel perplexity. M. Galpin was utterly overcome by +consternation. He sat at the little table, on which he had been +writing, his head resting on his hands, thinking, apparently, how he +could find a way out of this labyrinth. + +All of a sudden he rose, and forgetting, for a moment, his customary +rigidity, he let his mask of icy impassiveness drop off his face, and +said,-- + +"Well?" as if, in his despair, he had hoped for some help or advice in +his troubles,--"well?" + +No answer came. + +All the others were as much troubled as he was. They all tried to +shake off the overwhelming impression made by this accumulation of +evidence; but in vain. At last, after a moment's silence, the +magistrate said with strange bitterness,-- + +"You see, gentlemen, I was right in examining Cocoleu. Oh! don't +attempt to deny it: you share my doubts and my suspicions, I see it. +Is there one among you who would dare assert that the terrible +excitement of this poor man has not restored to him for a time the use +of his reason? When he told you that he had witnessed the crime, and +when he gave the name of the criminal, you looked incredulous. But +then other witnesses came; and their united evidence, corresponding +without a missing link, constitutes a terrible presumption." + +He became animated again. Professional habits, stronger than every +thing else, obtained once more the mastery. + +"M. de Boiscoran was at Valpinson to-night: that is clearly +established. Well, how did he get here? By concealing himself. Between +his own house and Valpinson there are two public roads,--one by +Brechy, and another around the swamps. Does M. de Boiscoran take +either of the two? No. He cuts straight across the marshes, at the +risk of sinking in, or of getting wet from head to foot. On his return +he chooses, in spite of the darkness, the forest of Rochepommier, +unmindful of the danger he runs to lose his way, and to wander about +in it till daybreak. What was he doing this for? Evidently, in order +not to be seen. And, in fact, whom does he meet?--a loose fellow, +Ribot, who is himself in hiding on account of some love-intrigue; a +wood-stealer, Gaudry, whose only anxiety is to avoid the gendarmes; an +old woman, finally, Mrs. Courtois, who has been belated by an +accident. All his precautions were well chosen; but Providence was +watching." + +"O Providence!" growled Dr. Seignebos,--"Providence!" + +But M. Galpin did not even hear the interruption. Speaking faster and +faster, he went on,-- + +"Would it at least be possible to plead in behalf of M. de Boiscoran a +difference in time? No. At what time was he seen to come to this +place? At nightfall. 'It was half-past eight,' says Ribot, 'when M. de +Boiscoran crossed the canal at the Seille swamps.' He might, +therefore, have easily reached Valpinson at half-past nine. At that +hour the crime had not yet been committed. When was he seen returning +home? Gaudry and the woman Courtois have told you the hour,--after +eleven o'clock. At that time Count Claudieuse had been shot, and +Valpinson was on fire. Do we know any thing of M. de Boiscoran's +temper at that time? Yes, we do. When he came this way he was quite +cool. He is very much surprised at meeting Ribot; but he explains to +him very fully how he happens to be at that place, and also why he has +a gun. + +"He says he is on his way to meet somebody at Brechy, and he thought +he would shoot some birds. Is that admissible? Is it even likely? +However, let us look at him on his way back. Gaudry says he was +walking very fast: he seemed to be furious, and was pulling handfuls +of leaves from the branches. What does Mrs. Courtois say? Nothing. +When she calls him, he does not venture to run; that would have been a +confession, but he is in a great hurry to help her. And then? His way +for a quarter of an hour is the same as the woman's: does he keep her +company? No. He leaves her hastily. He goes ahead, and hurries home; +for he thinks Count Claudieuse is dead; he knows Valpinson is in +flames; and he fears he will hear the bells ring, and see the fire +raging." + +It is not often that magistrates allow themselves such familiarity; +for judges, and even lawyers, generally fancy they are too high above +common mortals, on such occasions, to explain their views, to state +their impressions, and to ask, as it were, for advice. Still, when the +inquiry is only begun, there are, properly speaking, no fixed rules +prescribed. As soon as a crime has been reported to a French +magistrate, he is at liberty to do any thing he chooses in order to +discover the guilty one. Absolutely master of the case, responsible +only to his conscience, and endowed with extraordinary powers, he +proceeds as he thinks best. But, in this affair at Valpinson, M. +Galpin had been carried away by the rapidity of the events themselves. +Since the first question addressed to Cocoleu, up to the present +moment, he had not had time to consider. And his proceedings had been +public; thus he felt naturally tempted to explain them. + +"And you call this a legal inquiry?" asked Dr. Seignebos. + +He had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them furiously. + +"An inquiry founded upon what?" he went on with such vehemence that no +one dared interrupt him,--"founded upon the evidence of an unfortunate +creature, whom I, a physician, testify to be not responsible for what +he says. Reason does not go out and become lighted again, like the gas +in a street-lamp. A man is an idiot, or he is not an idiot. He has +always been one; and he always will be one. But you say the other +statements are conclusive. Say, rather, that you think they are. Why? +Because you are prejudiced by Cocoleu's accusation. But for it, you +would never have troubled yourselves about what M. De Boiscoran did, +or did not. He walked about the whole evening. He has a right to do +so. He crossed the marsh. What hindered him? He went through the +woods. Why should he not? He is met with by people. Is not that quite +natural? But no: an idiot accuses him, and forthwith all he does looks +suspicious. He talks. It is the insolence of a hardened criminal. He +is silent. It is the remorse of a guilty man trembling with fear. +Instead of naming M. de Boiscoran, Cocoleu might just as well have +named me, Dr. Seignebos. At once, all my doings would have appeared +suspicious; and I am quite sure a thousand evidences of my guilt would +have been discovered. It would have been an easy matter. Are not my +opinions more radical even than those of M. de Boiscoran? For there is +the key to the whole matter. M. de Boiscoran is a Republican; M. de +Boiscoran acknowledges no sovereignty but that of the people"-- + +"Doctor," broke in the commonwealth attorney,--"doctor, you are not +thinking of what you say." + +"I do think of it, I assure you"-- + +But he was once more interrupted, and this time by Count Claudieuse, +who said,-- + +"For my part, I admit all the arguments brought up by the magistrate. +But, above all probabilities, I put a fact,--the character of the +accused. M. de Boiscoran is a man of honor and an excellent man. He is +incapable of committing a mean and odious crime." + +The others assented. M. Seneschal added,-- + +"And I, I will tell you another thing. What would have been the +purpose of such a crime? Ah, if M. de Boiscoran had nothing to lose! +But do you know among all your friends a happier man than he is?-- +young, handsome, in excellent health, immensely wealthy, esteemed and +popular with everybody. Finally, there is another fact, which is a +family secret, but which I may tell you, and which will remove at once +all suspicions,--M. de Boiscoran is desperately in love with Miss +Dionysia de Chandore. She returns his love; and the day before +yesterday the wedding-day was fixed on the 20th of the next month." + +In the meantime the hours had sped on. It was half-past three by the +clock of the church in Brechy. Day was breaking; and the light of the +lamps was turning pale. The morning mists began to disappear; and the +sunlight fell upon the window-panes. But no one noticed this: all +these men gathered around the bed of the wounded man were too deeply +excited. M. Galpin had listened to the objection made by the others, +without a word or a gesture. He had so far recovered his self-control, +that it would have been difficult to see what impressions they made +upon his mind. At last, shaking his head gravely, he said,-- + +"More than you, gentlemen, I feel a desire to believe M. de Boiscoran +innocent. M. Daubigeon, who knows what I mean, will tell you so. In my +heart I pleaded his cause long before you. But I am the representative +of the law; and my duty is above my affections. Does it depend on me +to set aside Cocoleu's accusation, however stupid, however absurd, it +may be? Can I undo the three statements made by the witnesses, and +confirming so strongly the suspicions aroused by the first charge?" + +Count Claudieuse was distressed beyond expression. At last he said,-- + +"The worst thing about it is, that M. de Boiscoran thinks I am his +enemy. I should not wonder if he went and imagined that these charges +and vile suspicions have been suggested by my wife or by myself. If I +could only get up! At least, let M. de Boiscoran know distinctly that +I am ready to answer for him, as I would answer for myself. Cocoleu, +the wretched idiot! Ah, Genevieve, my darling wife! Why did you induce +him to talk? If you had not insisted, he would have kept silent +forever." + +The countess succumbed at last to the anxieties of this terrible +night. At first she had been supported by that exaltation which is apt +to accompany a great crisis; but latterly she had felt exhausted. She +had sunk upon a stool, near the bed on which her two daughters were +lying; and, her head hid in the pillow, she seemed to sleep. But she +was not asleep. When her husband reproached her thus, she rose, pale, +with swollen eyes and distorted features, and said in a piercing +voice,-- + +"What? They have tried to kill my Trivulce; our children have been +near unto death in the flames; and I should have allowed any means to +be unused by which the guilty one may be found out? No! I have only +done what it was my duty to do. Whatever may come of it, I regret +nothing." + +"But, Genevieve, M. de Boiscoran is not guilty: he cannot possibly be +guilty. How could a man who has the happiness of being loved by +Dionysia de Chandore, and who counts the days to his wedding,--how +could he devise such a hideous crime?" + +"Let him prove his innocence," replied the countess mercilessly. + +The doctor smacked his lips in the most impertinent manner. + +"There is a woman's logic for you," he murmured. + +"Certainly," said M. Seneschal, "M. de Boiscoran's innocence will be +promptly established. Nevertheless, the suspicion will remain. And our +people are so constituted, that this suspicion will overshadow his +whole life. Twenty years hence, they will meet him, and they will say, +'Oh, yes! the man who set Valpinson on fire!' " + +It was not M. Galpin this time who replied, but the commonwealth +attorney. He said sadly,-- + +"I cannot share your views; but that does not matter. After what has +passed, our friend, M. Galpin cannot retrace his steps: his duty makes +that impossible, and, even more so, what is due to the accused. What +would all these people say, who have heard Cocoleu's deposition, and +the evidence given by the witnesses, if the inquiry were stopped? They +would certainly say M. de Boiscoran was guilty, but that he was not +help responsible because he was rich and noble. Upon my honor I +believe him to be innocent. But precisely because this is my +conviction, I maintain that his innocence must be clearly established. +No doubt he has the means of doing so. When he met Ribot, he told him +he was on his way to see somebody at Brechy." + +"But suppose he never went there?" objected M. Seneschal. "Suppose he +did not see anybody there? Suppose it was only a pretext to satisfy +Ribot's impertinent curiosity?" + +"Well, then, he would only have to tell the truth in court. And look! +Here's an important proof which almost by itself relieves M. de +Boiscoran. Would he not have loaded his gun with a ball, if he should +ever have really thought of murdering the count? But it was loaded +with nothing but small-shot." + +"And he would never have missed me at ten yards' distance," said the +count. + +Suddenly somebody was heard knocking furiously at the door. + +"Come in!" cried M. Seneschal. + +The door opened and three peasants appeared, looking bewildered, but +evidently well pleased. + +"We have just," said one of them, "found something curious." + +"What?" asked M. Galpin. + +"It looks very much like a case; but Pitard says it is the paper of a +cartridge." + +Count Claudieuse raised himself on his pillows, and said eagerly,-- + +"Let me see! I have during these last days fired several times quite +near to the house to frighten the birds away that eat my fruit. I want +to see if the paper is mine." + +The peasant gave it to him. + +It was a very thin lead form, such as contain the cartridges used in +American breech-loading guns. What was singular was that it was +blackened by burnt powder; but it had not been torn, nor had it blazed +up in the discharge. It was so perfectly uninjured, that one could +read the embossed letters of the name of the manufacturer, Clebb. + +"That cartridge never belonged to me," said the count. + +But as he uttered these words he turned deadly pale, so pale, that his +wife came close to him, and looked at him with a glance full of +terrible anguish. + +"Well?" + +He made no reply. + +But at that moment such silence was so eloquent, that the countess +felt sickened, and whispered to him,-- + +"Then Cocoleu was right, after all!" + +Not one feature of this dramatic scene had escaped M. Galpin's eye. He +had seen on every face signs of a kind of terror; still he made no +remark. He took the metal case from the count's hands, knowing that it +might become an important piece of evidence; and for nearly a minute +he turned it round and round, looking at it from all sides, and +examining it in the light with the utmost attention. + +Then turning to the peasants, who were standing respectfully and +uncovered close by the door, he asked them,-- + +"Where did you find this cartridge, my friends?" + +"Close by the old tower, where they keep the tools, and where the ivy +is growing all over the old castle." + +M. Seneschal had in the meantime succeeded in recovering his self- +control, and said now,-- + +"Surely the murderer cannot have fired from there. You cannot even see +the door of the house from the old tower." + +"That may be," replied the magistrate; "but the cartridge-case does +not necessarily fall to the ground at the place where the gun is +discharged. It falls as soon as the gun is cocked to reload." + +This was so true, that even Dr. Seignebos had nothing to say. + +"Now, my friends," said M. Galpin, "which of you has found the +cartridge-case?" + +"We were all together when we saw it, and picked it up." + +"Well, then, all three of you must give me your names and your +domicile, so that I can send for you when you are wanted." + +This was done; and, when all formalities were attended to, they went +off with numberless bows and doffings of hats. Just at that moment the +furious gallop of a horse was heard approaching the house; the next +moment the man who had been sent to Sauveterre for medicines came in. +He was furious. + +"That rascal of a druggist!" he said. "I thought he would never open +his shop!" + +Dr. Seignebos had eagerly seized the things that were sent him, then, +bowing with mock respect to the magistrate, he said,-- + +"I know very well, sir, how pressing the necessity is to have the head +of the culprit cut off; but I think it is almost as pressing to save +the life of the murdered man. I have probably delayed the binding up +of the count's wounds longer than I ought to have done; and I beg you +will now leave me alone, so as to enable me to do my duty to him." + + + + VI. + +There was nothing more to be done for the magistrate, the commonwealth +attorney, or the mayor. The doctor might assuredly have used more +polite language; but people were accustomed to his brutal ways; for it +is surprising with what readiness men are tolerated in France, under +the pretext that they are as they are, and that they must be taken as +they are. The three gentlemen, therefore, left the room, after having +bid farewell to the countess, and after having promised to send the +count news of all that might be discovered. + +The fire was going out for want of fuel. A few hours had sufficed to +destroy all that the hard work and incessant cares of many years had +accomplished. This charming and much envied estate presented now +nothing but a few half calcined walls, heaps of black and gray ashes, +and still glowing timbers, from which columns of smoke were slowly +rising upward. Thanks to Capt. Parenteau, all that they had been able +to save had been carried to a distance, and safely stored away under +the shelter of the ruins of the old castle. There, furniture and other +articles were piled up pell-mell. There, carts and agricultural +machines were standing about, empty casks, and sacks of oats and rye. +There, also, the cattle were gathered, that had been drawn from their +stalls with infinite labor, and at great risk of life,--horses, oxen, +some sheep, and a dozen cows, who lowed piteously. Few of the people +had left as yet. With greater zeal than ever the firemen, aided by the +peasants, deluged the remains of the dwelling-house with water. They +had nothing to fear from the fire; but they desired to keep the bodies +of their unfortunate companions from being entirely consumed. + +"What a terrible scourge fire is!" said M. Seneschal. + +Neither M. Galpin nor the mayor made any answer. They also felt their +hearts oppressed by the sad sight before them, in spite of all the +intense excitement before; for a fire is nothing as long as the +feverish excitement, and the hope of saving something, continue to +keep us up, and as long as the red flames illumine the horizon; but +the next day, when all is over, then we realize the extent of the +misfortune. + +The firemen recognized the mayor, and greeted him with cheers. He went +rapidly towards them; and, for the first time since the alarm had been +raised, the magistrate and the attorney were alone. They were standing +close by each other, and for a moment kept silent, while each one +tried to read in the other's eyes the secret of his thoughts. At last +M. Daubigeon asked,-- + +"Well?" + +M. Galpin trembled. + +"This is a fearful calamity," he said. + +"What is your opinion?" + +"Ah! do I know it myself? I have lost my head: the whole thing looks +to me like a nightmare." + +"You cannot really believe that M. de Boiscoran is guilty?" + +"I believe nothing. My reason tells me he is innocent. I feel he must +be innocent; and yet I see terrible evidence rising against him." + +The attorney was overwhelmed. + +"Alas!" he said, "why did you, contrary to everybody's opinion, insist +upon examining Cocoleu, a poor idiotic wretch?" + +But the magistrate remonstrated-- + +"You do not mean to reproach me, sir, for having followed the impulses +of my conscience?" + +"I reproach you for nothing." + +"A horrible crime has been committed; and my duty compelled me to do +all that lies in the power of man to discover the culprit." + +"Yes; and the man who is accused of the crime is your friend, and only +yesterday you spoke of his friendship as your best chance of success +in life." + +"Sir?" + +"Are you surprised to find me so well informed? Ah, you do not know +that nothing escapes the idle curiosity of a village. I know that your +dearest hope was to become a member of M. de Boiscoran's family, and +that you counted upon him to back you in your efforts to obtain the +hand of one of his cousins." + +"I do not deny that." + +"Unfortunately, you have been tempted by the prestige you might gain +in a great and famous trial. You have laid aside all prudence; and +your projects are forgotten. Whether M. de Boiscoran is innocent or +guilty, his family will never forgive you your interference. If he is +guilty, they will blame you for having handed him over to justice: if +he is innocent, they will blame you even more for having suspected +him." + +M. Galpin hung his head as if to conceal his trouble. Then he asked,-- + +"And what would you do in my place?" + +"I would withdraw from the case, although it is rather late." + +"If I did so, I should risk my career." + +"Even that would be better for you than to engage in an affair in +which you cannot feel the calmness nor the impartiality which are the +first and indispensable virtues of an upright magistrate." + +The latter was becoming impatient. He exclaimed,-- + +"Sir, do you think I am a man to be turned aside from my duty by +considerations of friendship or personal interest?" + +"I said nothing of the kind." + +"Did you not see just now how I carried on the inquiry? Did you see me +start when Cocoleu first mentioned M. de Boiscoran's name? If he had +denounced any one else, I should probably have let the matter rest +there. But precisely because M. de Boiscoran is a friend of mine, and +because I have great expectations from him, I have insisted and +persisted, and I do so still." + +The commonwealth attorney shrugged his shoulders. + +"That is it exactly," he said. "Because M. de Boiscoran is a friend of +yours, you are afraid of being accused of weakness; and you are going +to be hard, pitiless, unjust even, against him. Because you had great +expectations from him, you will insist upon finding him guilty. And +you call yourself impartial?" + +M. Galpin assumed all his usual rigidity, and said solemnly,-- + +"I am sure of myself!" + +"Have a care!" + +"My mind is made up, sir." + +It was time for M. Seneschal to join them again: he returned, +accompanied by Capt. Parenteau. + +"Well, gentlemen," he asked, "what have you resolved?" + +"We are going to Boiscoran," replied the magistrate. + +"What! Immediately?" + +"Yes: I wish to find M. de Boiscoran in bed. I am so anxious about it, +that I shall do without my clerk." + +Capt. Parenteau bowed, and said,-- + +"Your clerk is here, sir: he was but just inquiring for you." +Thereupon he called out as loud as he could,-- + +"Mechinet, Mechinet!" + +A small gray-haired man, jovial and cheerful, came running up, and at +once proceeded to tell at full length how a neighbor had told him what +had happened, and how the magistrate had left town, whereupon he, +also, had started on foot, and come after him as fast as he could. + +"Now will you go to Boiscoran?" asked the mayor. + +"I do not know yet. Mechinet will have to look for some conveyance." + +Quick like lightning, the clerk was starting off, when M. Seneschal +held him back, saying,-- + +"Don't go. I place my horse and my carriage at your disposal. Any one +of these peasants can drive you. Capt. Parenteau and I will get into +some farmer's wagon, and thus get back to Sauveterre; for we ought to +be back as soon as possible. I have just heard alarming news. There +may be some disorder. The peasant-women who attend the market have +brought in most exciting reports, and exaggerated the calamities of +last night. They have started reports that ten or twelve men have been +killed, and that the incendiary, M. de Boiscoran, has been arrested. +The crowd has gone to poor Guillebault's widow; and there have been +demonstrations before the houses of several of the principal +inhabitants of Sauveterre." + +In ordinary times, M. Seneschal would not have intrusted his famous +horse, Caraby, for any thing in the world, to the hands of a stranger. +He considered it the best horse in the province. But he was evidently +terribly upset, and betrayed it in his manner, and by the very efforts +he made to regain his official dignity and self-possession. + +He made a sign, and his carriage was brought up, all ready. But, when +he asked for somebody to drive, no one came forward. All these good +people who had spent the night abroad were in great haste to return +home, where their cattle required their presence. When young Ribot saw +the others hesitate, he said,-- + +"Well, I'll drive the justice." + +And, taking hold of the whip and the reins, he took his seat on the +front-bench, while the magistrate, the commonwealth attorney, and the +clerk filled the vehicle. + +"Above all, take care of Caraby," begged M. Seneschal, who at the last +moment felt almost overcome with anxiety for his favorite. + +"Don't be afraid, sir," replied the young man, as he started the +horse. "If I strike too hard, M. Mechinet will stop me." + +This Mechinet, the magistrate's clerk, was almost a power in +Sauveterre; and the greatest personages there paid their court to him. +His official duties were of very humble nature, and ill paid; but he +knew how to eke out his income by other occupations, of which the +court took no notice; and these added largely both to his importance +in the community and to his modest income. + +As he was a skilful lithographer, he printed all the visiting-cards +which the people of Sauveterre ordered at the principal printing- +office of Sauveterre, where "The Independent" was published. An able +accountant, he kept books and made up accounts for some of the +principal merchants in town. Some of the country people who were fond +of litigation came to him for legal advice; and he drew up all kinds +of law papers. For many years now, he had been director of the +firemen's band, and manager of the Orpheon. He was a correspondent of +certain Paris societies, and thus obtained free admission to the +theatre not only, but also to the sacred precincts behind the scenes. +Finally he was always ready to give writing-lessons, French lessons to +little girls, or music-lessons on the flute and the horn, to amateurs. + +These varied talents had drawn upon him the hostility of all the other +teachers and public servants of the community, especially that of the +mayor's clerk, and the clerks of the bank and great institutions of +Sauveterre. But all these enemies he had gradually conquered by the +unmistakable superiority of his ability; so that they fell in with the +universal habit, and, when any thing special happened, said to each +other,-- + +"Let us go and consult Mechinet." + +He himself concealed, under an appearance of imperturbable good +nature, the ambition by which he was devoured: he wanted to become +rich, and to rise in the world. In fact, Mechinet was a diplomat, +working in secret, but as cunning as Talleyrand. He had succeeded +already in making himself the one great personage of Sauveterre. The +town was full of him; nothing was done without him; and yet he had not +an enemy in the place. + +The fact is, people were afraid of him, and dreaded his terrible +tongue. Not that he had ever injured anybody, he was too wise for +that; but they knew the harm he might do, if he chose, as he was +master of every important secret in Sauveterre, and the best informed +man in town as regarded all their little intrigues, their private +foibles, and their dark antecedents. + +This gave him quite an exceptional position. As he was unmarried, he +lived with his sisters, the Misses Mechinet, who were the best +dressmakers in town, and, moreover, devout members of all kinds of +religious societies. Through them he heard all that was going on in +society, and was able to compare the current gossip with what he heard +in court, or at the newspaper office. Thus he could say pleasantly,-- + +"How could any thing escape me, when I have the church and the press, +the court and the theatre, to keep me informed?" + +Such a man would have considered himself disgraced if he had not known +every detail of M. de Boiscoran's private affairs. He did not +hesitate, therefore, while the carriage was rolling along on an +excellent road, in the fresh spring morning, to explain to his +companions the "case," as he called it, of the accused nobleman. + +M. de Boiscoran, called Jacques by his friends, was rarely on his +estate, and then only staid a month or so there. He was living in +Paris, where his family owned a comfortable house in University +Street. His parents were still alive. + +His father, the Marquis de Boiscoran, the owner of a large landed +estate, a deputy under Louis Philippe, a representative in 1848, had +withdrawn from public life when the Second Empire was established, and +spent, since that time, all his money, and all his energies, in +collecting rare old books, and especially costly porcelain, on which +he had written a monograph. + +His mother, a Chalusse by birth, had enjoyed the reputation of being +one of the most beautiful and most gifted ladies at the court of the +Citizen King. At a certain period in her life, unfortunately, slander +had attacked her; and about 1845 or 1846, it was reported that she had +had a remarkable affair with a young lawyer of distinction, who had +since become one of the austerest and most renowned judges. As she +grew old, the marchioness devoted herself more and more to politics, +as other women become pious. While her husband boasted that he had not +read a newspaper for ten years, she had made her /salon/ a kind of +parliamentary centre, which had its influence on political affairs. + +Although Jacques de Boiscoran's parents were still alive, he possessed +a considerable fortune of his own--five or six thousand dollars a +year. This fortune, which consisted of the Chateau of Boiscoran, the +farms, meadows, and forests belonging to it, had been left to him by +one of his uncles, the oldest brother of his father, who had died a +widower, and childless, in 1868. M. de Boiscoran was at this moment +about twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, dark complexion, tall, +strong, well made, not exactly a handsome man, but having, what was +worth more, one of those frank, intelligent faces which prepossess one +at first sight. + +His character was less well known at Sauveterre than his person. Those +who had had any business with him described him as an honorable, +upright man: his companions spoke of him as cheerful and gay, fond of +pleasure, and always in good humor. At the time of the Prussian +invasion, he had been made a captain of one of the volunteer companies +of the district. He had led his men bravely under fire, and conducted +himself so well on the battlefield, that Gen. Chanzy had rewarded him, +when wounded, with the cross of the legion of honor. + +"And such a man should have committed such a crime at Valpinson," said +M. Daubigeon to the magistrate. "No, it is impossible! And no doubt he +will very easily scatter all our doubts to the four winds." + +"And that will be done at once," said young Ribot; "for here we are." + +In many of the provinces of France the name of /chateau/ is given to +almost any little country-house with a weathercock on its pointed +roof. But Boiscoran was a real chateau. It had been built towards the +end of the seventeenth century, in wretched taste, but massively, like +a fortress. Its position is superb. It is surrounded on all sides by +woods and forests; and at the foot of the sloping garden flows a +little river, merrily splashing over its pebbly bed, and called the +Magpie on account of its perpetual babbling. + + + + VII. + +It was seven o'clock when the carriage containing the justice drove +into the courtyard at Boiscoran,--a vast court, planted with lime- +trees, and surrounded by farm buildings. The chateau was wide awake. +Before her house-door, the farmer's wife was cleaning the huge caldron +in which she had prepared the morning soup; the maids were going and +coming; and at the stable a groom was rubbing down with great energy a +thorough-bred horse. + +On the front-steps stood Master Anthony, M. de Boiscoran's own man, +smoking his cigar in the bright sunlight, and overlooking the farm +operations. He was a man of nearly fifty, still very active, who had +been bequeathed to his new master by his uncle, together with his +possessions. He was a widower now; and his daughter was in the +marchioness' service. + +As he had been born in the family, and never left it afterwards, he +looked upon himself as one of them, and saw no difference between his +own interests and those of his master. In fact, he was treated less +like a servant than like a friend; and he fancied he knew every thing +about M. de Boiscoran's affairs. + +When he saw the magistrate and the commonwealth attorney come up to +the door, he threw away his cigar, came down quickly, and, bowing +deeply, said to them with his most engaging smile,-- + +"Ah, gentlemen! What a pleasant surprise! My master will be +delighted." + +With strangers, Anthony would not have allowed himself such +familiarity, for he was very formal; but he had seen M. Daubigeon more +than once at the chateau; and he knew the plans that had been +discussed between M. Galpin and his master. Hence he was not a little +amazed at the embarrassed stiffness of the two gentlemen, and at the +tone of voice in which the magistrate asked him,-- + +"Has M. de Boiscoran gotten up yet?" + +"Not yet," he replied; "and I have orders not to wake him. He came +home late last night, and wanted to make up this morning." + +Instinctively the magistrate and the attorney looked away, each +fearing to meet the other's eyes. + +"Ah! M. de Boiscoran came home late last night?" repeated M. Galpin. + +"Towards midnight, rather after midnight than before." + +"And when had he gone out?" + +"He left here about eight." + +"How was he dressed?" + +"As usually. He had light gray trousers, a shooting-jacket of brown +velveteen, and a large straw hat." + +"Did he take his gun?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Do you know where he went?" + +But for the respect which he felt for his master's friends, Anthony +would not have answered these questions, which he thought were +extremely impertinent. But this last question seemed to him to go +beyond all fair limits. He replied, therefore, in a tone of injured +self-respect,-- + +"I am not in the habit of asking my master where he goes when he +leaves the house, nor where he has been when he comes back." + +M. Daubigeon understood perfectly well the honorable feelings which +actuated the faithful servant. He said to him with an air of +unmistakable kindness,-- + +"Do not imagine, my friend, that I ask you these questions from idle +curiosity. Tell me what you know; for your frankness may be more +useful to your master than you imagine." + +Anthony looked with an air of perfect stupefaction, by turns at the +magistrate and the commonwealth attorney, at Mechinet, and finally at +Ribot, who had taken the lines, and tied Caraby to a tree. + +"I assure you, gentlemen, I do not know where M. de Boiscoran has +spent the evening." + +"You have no suspicion?" + +"No." + +"Perhaps he went to Brechy to see a friend?" + +"I do not know that he has any friends in Brechy." + +"What did he do after he came home?" + +The old servant showed evident signs of embarrassment. + +"Let me think," he said. "My master went up to his bedroom, and +remained there four or five minutes. Then he came down, ate a piece of +a pie, and drank a glass of wine. Then he lit a cigar, and told me to +go to bed, adding that he would take a little walk, and undress +without my help." + +"And then you went to bed?" + +"Of course." + +"So that you do not know what your master may have done?" + +"I beg your pardon. I heard him open the garden door." + +"He did not appear to you different from usual?" + +"No: he was as he always is,--quite cheerful: he was singing." + +"Can you show me the gun he took with him?" + +"No. My master probably took it to his room." + +M. Daubigeon was about to make a remark, when the magistrate stopped +him by a gesture, and eagerly asked,-- + +"How long is it since your master and Count Claudieuse have ceased +seeing each other?" + +Anthony trembled, as if a dark presentiment had entered his mind. He +replied,-- + +"A long time: at least I think so." + +"You are aware that they are on bad terms?" + +"Oh!" + +"They have had great difficulties between them?" + +"Something unpleasant has happened, I know; but it was not much. As +they do not visit each other, they cannot well hate each other. +Besides, I have heard master say a hundred times, that he looked upon +Count Claudieuse as one of the best and most honorable men; that he +respected him highly, and"-- + +For a minute or so M. Galpin kept silent, thinking whether he had +forgotten any thing. Then he asked suddenly,-- + +"How far is it from here to Valpinson?" + +"Three miles, sir," replied Anthony. + +"If you were going there, what road would you take?" + +"The high road which passes Brechy." + +"You would not go across the marsh?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Why not?" + +"Because the Seille is out of its banks, and the ditches are full of +water." + +"Is not the way much shorter through the forest?" + +"Yes, the way is shorter; but it would take more time. The paths are +very indistinct, and overgrown with briers." + +The commonwealth attorney could hardly conceal his disappointment. +Anthony's answers seemed to become worse and worse. + +"Now," said the magistrate again, "if fire should break out at +Valpinson, would you see it from here?" + +"I think not, sir. There are hills and tall woods between." + +"Can you hear the Brechy bells from here?" + +"When the wind is north, yes, sir." + +"And last night, how was it?" + +"The wind was from the west, as it always is when we have a storm." + +"So that you have heard nothing? You do not know what a terrible +calamity"-- + +"A calamity? I do not understand you, sir." + +This conversation had taken place in the court-yard: and at this +moment there appeared two gendarmes on horseback, whom M. Galpin had +sent for just before he left Valpinson. + +When old Anthony saw them, he exclaimed,-- + +"Great God! what is the meaning of this? I must wake master." + +The magistrate stopped him, saying harshly,-- + +"Not a step! Don't say a word!" + +And pointing out Ribot to the gendarmes, he said,-- + +"Keep that lad under your eyes, and let him have no communication with +anybody." + +Then, turning again to Anthony, he said,-- + +"Now show us to M. de Boiscoran's bedroom." + + + + VIII. + +In spite of its grand feudal air, the chateau at Boiscoran was, after +all, little more than a bachelor's modest home, and in a very bad +state of preservation. Of the eighty or a hundred rooms which it +contained, hardly more than eight or ten were furnished, and this only +in the simplest possible manner,--a sitting-room, a dining-room, a few +guest-chambers: this was all M. de Boiscoran required during his rare +visits to the place. He himself used in the second story a small room, +the door of which opened upon the great staircase. + +When they reached this door, guided by old Anthony, the magistrate +said to the servant,-- + +"Knock!" + +The man obeyed: and immediately a youthful, hearty voice replied from +within,-- + +"Who is there?" + +"It is I," said the faithful servant. "I should like"-- + +"Go to the devil!" broke in the voice. + +"But, sir"-- + +"Let me sleep, rascal. I have not been able to close an eye till now." +The magistrate, becoming impatient, pushed the servant aside, and, +seizing the door-knob tried to open it; it was locked inside. But he +lost no time in saying,-- + +"It is I, M. de Boiscoran: open, if you please!" + +"Ah, dear M. Galpin!" replied the voice cheerfully. + +"I must speak to you." + +"And I am at your service, illustrious jurist. Just give me time to +veil my Apollonian form in a pair of trousers, and I appear." + +Almost immediately, the door opened; and M. de Boiscoran presented +himself, his hair dishevelled, his eyes heavy with sleep, but looking +bright in his youth and full health, with smiling lips and open hands. + +"Upon my word!" he said. "That was a happy inspiration you had, my +dear Galpin. You come to join me at breakfast?" + +And, bowing to M. Daubigeon, he added,-- + +"Not to say how much I thank you for bringing our excellent +commonwealth attorney with you. This is a veritable judicial visit"-- + +But he paused, chilled as he was by M. Daubigeon's icy face, and +amazed at M. Galpin's refusal to take his proffered hand. + +"Why," he said, "what is the matter, my dear friend?" + +The magistrate had never been stiffer in his life, when he replied,-- + +"We shall have to forget our relations, sir. It is not as a friend I +come to-day, but as a magistrate." + +M. de Boiscoran looked confounded; but not a shadow of trouble +appeared on his frank and open face. + +"I'll be hanged," he said, "if I understand"-- + +"Let us go in," said M. Galpin. + +They went in; and, as they passed the door, Mechinet whispered into +the attorney's ear,-- + +"Sir, that man is certainly innocent. A guilty man would never have +received us thus." + +"Silence, sir!" said the commonwealth attorney, however much he was +probably of his clerk's opinion. "Silence!" + +And grave and sad he went and stood in one of the window embrasures. +M. Galpin remained standing in the centre of the room, trying to see +every thing in it, and to fix it in his memory, down to the smallest +details. The prevailing disorder showed clearly how hastily M. de +Boiscoran had gone to bed the night before. His clothes, his boots, +his shirt, his waistcoat, and his straw hat lay scattered about on the +chairs and on the floor. He wore those light gray trousers, which had +been succcessively seen and recognized by Cocoleu, by Ribot, by +Gaudry, and by Mrs. Courtois. + +"Now, sir," began M. de Boiscoran, with that slight angry tone of +voice which shows that a man thinks a joke has been carried far +enough, "will you please tell me what procures for me the honor of +this early visit?" + +Not a muscle in M. Galpin's face was moving. As if the question had +been addressed to some one else, he said coldly,-- + +"Will you please show us your hands, sir?" + +M. de Boiscoran's cheeks turned crimson; and his eyes assumed an +expression of strange perplexity. + +"If this is a joke," he said, "it has perhaps lasted long enough." + +He was evidently getting angry. M. Daubigeon thought it better to +interfere, and thus he said,-- + +"Unfortunately, sir, the question is a most serious one. Do what the +magistrate desires." + +More and more amazed, M. de Boiscoran looked rapidly around him. In +the door stood Anthony, his faithful old servant, with anguish on his +face. Near the fireplace, the clerk had improvised a table, and put +his paper, his pens, and his horn inkstand in readiness. Then with a +shrug of his shoulders, which showed that he failed to understand, M. +de Boiscoran showed his hands. + +They were perfectly clean and white: the long nails were carefully +cleaned also. + +"When did you last wash your hands?" asked M. Galpin, after having +examined them minutely. + +At this question, M. de Boiscoran's face brightened up; and, breaking +out into a hearty laugh, he said,-- + +"Upon my word! I confess you nearly caught me. I was on the point of +getting angry. I almost feared"-- + +"And there was good reason for fear," said M. Galpin; "for a terrible +charge has been brought against you. And it may be, that on your +answer to my question, ridiculous as it seems to you, your honor may +depend, and perhaps your liberty." + +This time there was no mistake possible. M. de Boiscoran felt that +kind of terror which the law inspires even in the best of men, when +they find themselves suddenly accused of a crime. He turned pale, and +then he said in a troubled voice,-- + +"What! A charge has been brought against me, and you, M. Galpin, come +to my house to examine me?" + +"I am a magistrate, sir." + +"But you were also my friend. If anyone should have dared in my +presence to accuse you of a crime, of a mean act, of something +infamous, I should have defended you, sir, with all my energy, without +hesitation, and without a doubt. I should have defended you till +absolute, undeniable evidence should have been brought forward of your +culpability; and even then I should have pitied you, remembering that +I had esteemed you so highly as to favor your alliance with my family. +But you--I am accused, I do not know of what, falsely, wrongly; and at +once you hasten hither, you believe the charge, and consent to become +my judge. Well, let it be so! I washed my hands last night after +coming home." + +M. Galpin had not boasted too much in praising his self-possession and +his perfect control over himself. He did not move when the terrible +words fell upon his ear; and he asked again in the same calm tone,-- + +"What has become of the water you used for that purpose?" + +"It is probably still there, in my dressing-room." + +The magistrate at once went in. On the marble table stood a basin full +of water. That water was black and dirty. At the bottom lay particles +of charcoal. On the top, mixed with the soapsuds, were swimming some +extremely slight but unmistakable fragments of charred paper. With +infinite care the magistrate carried the basin to the table at which +Mechinet had taken a sea; and, pointing at it, he asked M. de +Boiscoran,-- + +"Is that the water in which you washed your hands last night after +coming home?" + +"Yes," replied the other with an air of careless indifference. + +"You had been handling charcoal, or some inflammable material." + +"Don't you see?" + +Standing face to face, the commonwealth attorney and clerk exchanged +rapid glances. They had had the same feeling at that moment. If M. de +Boiscoran was innocent, he was certainly a marvellously cool and +energetic man, or he was carrying out a long-premeditated plan of +action; for every one of his answers seemed to tighten the net in +which he was taken. The magistrate himself seemed to be struck by +this; but it was only for a moment, and then, turning to the clerk, he +said,-- + +"Write that down!" + +He dictated to him the whole evidence, most minutely and accurately, +correcting himself every now and then to substitute a better word, or +to improve his style. When he had read it over he said,-- + +"Let us go on, sir. You were out last night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Having left the house at eight, you returned only around midnight." + +"After midnight." + +"You took your gun?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where is it?" + +With an air of indifference, M. de Boiscoran pointed at it in the +corner of the fireplace, and said,-- + +"There it is!" + +M. Galpin took it up quickly. It was a superb weapon, double- +barrelled, of unusually fine make, and very elegant. On the +beautifully carved woodwork the manufacturer's name, Clebb, was +engraven. + +"When did you last fire this gun?" asked the magistrate. + +"Some four or five days ago." + +"What for?" + +"To shoot some rabbits who infested my woods." + +M. Galpin raised and lowered the cock with all possible care: he +noticed that it was the Remington patent. Then he opened the chamber, +and found that the gun was loaded. Each barrel had a cartridge in it. +Then he put the gun back in its place, and, pulling from his pocket +the leaden cartridge-case which Pitard had found, he showed it to M. +de Boiscoran, and asked him,-- + +"Do you recognize this?" + +"Perfectly!" replied the other. "It is a case of one of the cartridges +which I have probably thrown away as useless." + +"Do you think you are the only one in this country who has a gun by +this maker?" + +"I do not think it: I am quite sure of it." + +"So that you must, as a matter of course, have been at a spot where +such a cartridge-case as this has been found?" + +"Not necessarily. I have often seen children pick up these things, and +play with them." + +The clerk, while he made his pen fly across his paper, could not +resist the temptation of making all kinds of faces. He was too well +acquainted with lawyers' tactics not to understand M. Galpin's policy +perfectly well, and to see how cunningly it was devised to make every +fact strengthen the suspicion against M. de Boiscoran. + +"It is a close game," he said to himself. + +The magistrate had taken a seat. + +"If that is so," he began again, "I beg you will give me an account of +how you spent the evening after eight o'clock: do not hurry, consider, +take your time; for your answers are of the utmost importance." + +M. de Boiscoran had so far remained quite cool; but his calmness +betrayed one of those terrible storms within, which may break forth, +no one knows when. This warning, and, even more so, the tone in which +it was given, revolted him as a most hideous hypocrisy. And, breaking +out all of a sudden, he cried,-- + +"After all, sir, what do you want of me? What am I accused of?" + +M. Galpin did not stir. He replied,-- + +"You will hear it at the proper time. First answer my question, and +believe me in your own interest. Answer frankly. What did you do last +night?" + +"How do I know? I walked about." + +"That is no answer." + +"Still it is so. I went out with no specific purpose: I walked at +haphazard." + +"Your gun on your shoulder?" + +"I always take my gun: my servant can tell you so." + +"Did you cross the Seille marshes?" + +"No." + +The magistrate shook his head gravely. He said,-- + +"You are not telling the truth." + +"Sir!" + +"Your boots there at the foot of the bed speak against you. Where does +the mud come from with which they are covered?" + +"The meadows around Boiscoran are very wet." + +"Do not attempt to deny it. You have been seen there." + +"But"-- + +"Young Ribot met you at the moment when you were crossing the canal." + +M. de Boiscoran made no reply. + +"Where were you going?" asked the magistrate. + +For the first time a real embarrassment appeared in the features of +the accused,--the embarrassment of a man who suddenly sees an abyss +opening before him. He hesitated; and, seeing that it was useless to +deny, he said,-- + +"I was going to Brechy." + +"To whom?" + +"To my wood-merchant, who has bought all this year's wood. I did not +find him at home, and came back on the high road." + +M. Galpin stopped him by a gesture. + +"That is not so," he said severely. + +"Oh!" + +"You never went to Brechy." + +"I beg your pardon." + +"And the proof is, that, about eleven o'clock, you were hurriedly +crossing the forest of Rochepommier." + +"I?" + +"Yes, you! And do not say No; for there are your trousers torn to +pieces by the thorns and briers through which you must have made your +way." + +"There are briers elsewhere as well as in the forest." + +"To be sure; but you were seen there." + +"By whom?" + +"By Gaudry the poacher. And he saw so much of you, that he could tell +us in what a bad humor you were. You were very angry. You were talking +loud, and pulling the leaves from the trees." + +As he said so, the magistrate got up and took the shooting-jacket, +which was lying on a chair not far from him. He searched the pockets, +and pulled out of one a handful of leaves. + +"Look here! you see, Gaudry has told the truth." + +"There are leaves everywhere," said M. de Boiscoran half aloud. + +"Yes; but a woman, Mrs. Courtois, saw you come out of the forest of +Rochepommier. You helped her to put a sack of flour on her ass, which +she could not lift alone. Do you deny it? No, you are right; for, look +here! on the sleeve of your coat I see something white, which, no +doubt, is flour from her bag." + +M. de Boiscoran hung his head. The magistrate went on,-- + +"You confess, then, that last night, between ten and eleven you were +at Valpinson?" + +"No, sir, I do not." + +"But this cartridge-case which I have just shown you was picked up at +Valpinson, close by the ruins of the old castle." + +"Well, sir, have I not told you before that I have seen a hundred +times children pick up these cases to play with? Besides, if I had +really been at Valpinson, why should I deny it?" + +M. Galpin rose to his full height, and said in the most solemn +manner,-- + +"I am going to tell you why! Last night, between ten and eleven, +Valpinson was set on fire; and it has been burnt to the ground." + +"Oh!" + +"Last night Count Claudieuse was fired at twice." + +"Great God!" + +"And it is thought, in fact there are strong reasons to think, that +you, Jacques de Boiscoran, are the incendiary and the assassin." + + + + IX. + +M. de Boiscoran looked around him like a man who has suddenly been +seized with vertigo, pale, as if all his blood had rushed to his +heart. + +He saw nothing but mournful, dismayed faces. + +Anthony, his old trusted servant, was leaning against the doorpost, as +if he feared to fall. The clerk was mending his pen in the air, +overcome with amazement. M. Daubigeon hung his head. + +"This is horrible!" he murmured: "this is horrible!" + +He fell heavily into a chair, pressing his hands on his heart, as if +to keep down the sobs that threatened to rise. M. Galpin alone seemed +to remain perfectly cool. The law, which he imagined he was +representing in all its dignity, knows nothing of emotions. His thin +lips even trembled a little, as if a slight smile was about to burst +forth: it was the cold smile of the ambitious man, who thinks he has +played his little part well. + +Did not every thing tend to prove that Jacques de Boiscoran was the +guilty man, and that, in the alternative between a friend, and an +opportunity of gaining high distinction, he had chosen well? After the +silence of a minute, which seemed to be a century, he went and stood, +with arms crossed on his chest, before the accused, and asked him,-- + +"Do you confess?" + +M. de Boiscoran sprang up as if moved by a spring, and said,-- + +"What? What do you want me to confess?" + +"That you have committed the crime at Valpinson." + +The young man pressed his hands convulsively on his brow, and cried +out,-- + +"But I am mad! I should have committed such a fearful, cowardly crime? +Is that possible? Is that likely? I might confess, and you would not +believe me. No! I am sure you would not believe my own words." + +He would have moved the marble on his mantelpiece sooner than M. +Galpin. The latter replied in icy tones,-- + +"I am not part of the question here. Why will you refer to relations +which must be forgotten? It is no longer the friend who speaks to you, +not even the man, but simply the magistrate. You were seen"-- + +"Who is the wretch?" + +"Cocoleu!" + +M. de Boiscoran seemed to be overwhelmed. He stammered,-- + +"Cocoleu? That poor epileptic idiot whom the Countess Claudieuse has +picked up?" + +"The same." + +"And upon the strength of the senseless words of a poor imbecile I am +charged with incendiarism, with murder?" + +Never had the magistrate made such efforts to assume an air of +impassive dignity and icy solemnity, as when he replied,-- + +"For an hour, at least, poor Cocoleu has been in the full enjoyment of +his faculties. The ways of Providence are inscrutable." + +"But sir"-- + +"And what does Cocoleu depose? He says he saw you kindle the fire with +your own hands, then conceal yourself behind a pile of wood, and fire +twice at Count Claudieuse." + +"And all that appears quite natural to you?" + +"No! At first it shocked me as it shocked everybody. You seem to be +far above all suspicion. But a moment afterwards they pick up the +cartridge-case, which can only have belonged to you. Then, upon my +arrival here, I surprise you in bed, and find the water in which you +have washed your hands black with coal, and little pieces of charred +paper swimming on top of it." + +"Yes," said M. de Boiscoran in an undertone: "it is fate." + +"And that is not all," continued the magistrate, raising his voice, "I +examine you, and you admit having been out from eight o'clock till +after midnight. I ask what you have been doing, and you refuse to tell +me. I insist, and you tell a falsehood. In order to overwhelm you, I +am forced to quote the evidence of young Ribot, of Gaudry, and Mrs. +Courtois, who have seen you at the very places where you deny having +been. That circumstance alone condemns you. Why should you not be +willing to tell me what you have been doing during those four hours? +You claim to be innocent. Help me, then, to establish your innocence. +Speak, tell me what you were doing between eight and midnight." + +M. de Boiscoran had no time to answer. + +For some time already, half-suppressed cries, and the sound of a large +crowd, had come up from the courtyard. A gendarme came in quite +excited; and, turning to the magistrate and the commonwealth attorney, +he said,-- + +"Gentlemen, there are several hundred peasants, men and women, in the +yard, who clamor for M. de Boiscoran. They threaten to drag him down +to the river. Some of the men are armed with pitchforks; but the women +are the maddest. My comrade and I have done our best to keep them +quiet." + +And just then, as if to confirm what he said, the cries came nearer, +growing louder and louder; and one could distinctly hear,-- + +"Drown Boiscoran! Let us drown the incendiary!" + +The attorney rose, and told the gendarme,-- + +"Go down and tell these people that the authorities are this moment +examining the accused; that they interrupt us; and that, if they keep +on, they will have to do with me." + +The gendarme obeyed his orders. M. de Boiscoran had turned deadly +pale. He said to himself,-- + +"These unfortunate people believe my guilt!" + +"Yes," said M. Galpin, who had overheard the words; "and you would +comprehend their rage, for which there is good reason, if you knew all +that has happened." + +"What else?" + +"Two Sauveterre firemen, one the father of five children, have +perished in the flames. Two other men, a farmer from Brechy, and a +gendarme who tried to rescue them, have been so seriously burned that +their lives are in danger." + +M. de Boiscoran said nothing. + +"And it is you," continued the magistrate, "who is charged with all +these calamities. You see how important it is for you to exculpate +yourself." + +"Ah! how can I?" + +"If you are innocent, nothing is easier. Tell us how you employed +yourself last night." + +"I have told you all I can say." + +The magistrate seemed to reflect for a full minute; then he said,-- + +"Take care, M. de Boiscoran: I shall have to have you arrested." + +"Do so." + +"I shall be obliged to order your arrest at once, and to send you to +jail in Sauveterre." + +"Very well." + +"Then you confess?" + +"I confess that I am the victim of an unheard-of combination of +circumstances; I confess that you are right, and that certain +fatalities can only be explained by the belief in Providence: but I +swear by all that is holy in the world, I am innocent." + +"Prove it." + +"Ah! would I not do it if I could?" + +"Be good enough, then, to dress, sir, and to follow the gendarmes." + +Without a word, M. de Boiscoran went into his dressing-room, followed +by his servant, who carried him his clothes. M. Galpin was so busy +dictating to the clerk the latter part of the examination, that he +seemed to forget his prisoner. Old Anthony availed himself of this +opportunity. + +"Sir," he whispered into his master's ear while helping him to put on +his clothes. + +"What?" + +"Hush! Don't speak so loud! The other window is open. It is only about +twenty feet to the ground: the ground is soft. Close by is one of the +cellar openings; and in there, you know, there is the old hiding- +place. It is only five miles to the coast, and I will have a good +horse ready for you to-night, at the park-gate." + +A bitter smile rose on M. de Boiscoran's lips, as he said,-- + +"And you too, my old friend: you think I am guilty?" + +"I conjure you," said Anthony, "I answer for any thing. It is barely +twenty feet. In your mother's name"-- + +But, instead of answering him, M. de Boiscoran turned round, and +called M. Galpin. When he had come in, he said to him, "Look at that +window, sir! I have money, fast horses; and the sea is only five miles +off. A guilty man would have escaped. I stay here; for I am innocent." + +In one point, at least, M. de Boiscoran had been right. Nothing would +have been easier for him than to escape, to get into the garden, and +to reach the hiding-place which his servant had suggested to him. But +after that? He had, to be sure, with old Anthony's assistance, some +chance of escaping altogether. But, after all, he might have been +found out in his hiding-place, or he might have been overtaken in his +ride to the coast. Even if he had succeeded, what would have become of +him? His flight would necessarily have been looked upon as a +confession of his guilt. + +Under such circumstances, to resist the temptation to escape, and to +make this resistance well known, was in fact not so much an evidence +of innocence as a proof of great cleverness. M. Galpin, at all events, +looked upon it in that light; for he judged others by himself. +Carefully and cunningly calculating every step he took in life, he did +not believe in sudden inspirations. He said, therefore, with an +ironical smile, which was to show that he was not so easily taken +in,-- + +"Very well, sir. This circumstance shall be mentioned, as well as the +others, at the trial." + +Very differently thought the commonwealth attorney and the clerk. If +the magistrate had been too much engaged in his dictation to notice +any thing, they had been perfectly able to notice the great excitement +under which the accused had naturally labored. Perfectly amazed at +first, and thinking, for a moment, that the whole was a joke, he had +next become furiously angry; then fear and utter dejection had +followed one another. But in precise proportion as the charges had +accumulated, and the evidence had become overwhelming, he had, so far +from becoming demoralized, seemed to recover his assurance. + +"There is something curious about it," growled Mechinet. M. Daubigeon, +on the other hand, said nothing; but when M. de Boiscoran came out of +his dressing-room, fully dressed and ready, he said,-- + +"One more question, sir." + +The poor man bowed. He was pale, but calm and self-possessed. + +"I am ready to reply," he said. + +"I'll be brief. You seemed to be surprised and indignant at any one's +daring to accuse you. That was weakness. Justice is but the work of +man, and must needs judge by appearances. If you reflect, you will see +that the appearances are all against you." + +"I see it but too clearly." + +"If you were on a jury, you would not hesitate to pronounce a man +guilty upon such evidence." + +"No, sir, no!" + +The commonwealth attorney bounded from his chair. He said,-- + +"You are not sincere!" + +M. de Boiscoran sadly shook his head, and replied,-- + +"I speak to you without the slightest hope of convincing you, but in +all sincerity. No, I should not condemn a man, as you say, if he +asserted his innocence, and if I did not see any reason for his crime. +For, after all, unless a man is mad, he does not commit a crime for +nothing. Now I ask you, how could I, upon whom fortune has always +smiled; I who am on the eve of marrying one whom I love passionately, +--how could I have set Valpinson on fire, and tried to murder Count +Claudieuse?" + +M. Galpin had scarcely been able to disguise his impatience, when he +saw the attorney take part in the affair. Seizing, therefore, the +opportunity to interfere, he said,-- + +"Your reason, sir, was hatred. You hated the count and the countess +mortally. Do not protest: it is of no use. Everybody knows it; and you +yourself have told me so." + +M. de Boiscoran looked as if he were growing still more pale, and then +replied in a tone of crushing disdain,-- + +"Even if that were so, I do not see what right you have to abuse the +confidence of a friend, after having declared, upon your arrival here, +that all friendship between us had ceased. But that is not so. I never +told you any such thing. As my feelings have never changed, I can +repeat literally what I have said. I have told you that the count was +a troublesome neighbor, a stickler for his rights, and almost absurdly +attached to his preserves. I have also told you, that, if he declared +my public opinions to be abominable, I looked upon his as ridiculous +and dangerous. As for the countess, I have simply said, half in jest, +that so perfect a person was not to my taste; and that I should be +very unhappy if my wife were a Madonna, who hardly ever deigned to put +her foot upon the ground." + +"And that was the only reason why you once pointed your gun at Count +Claudieuse? A little more blood rushing to your head would have made +you a murderer on that day." + +A terrible spasm betrayed M. de Boiscoran's fury; but he checked +himself, and said,-- + +"My passion was less fiery than it may have looked. I have the most +profound respect for the count's character. It is an additional grief +to me that he should have accused me." + +"But he has not accused you!" broke in M. Daubigeon. "On the contrary, +he was the first and the most eager to defend you." + +And, in spite of the signs which M. Galpin made, he continued,-- + +"Unfortunately that has nothing to do with the force of the evidence +against you. If you persist in keeping silence, you must look for a +criminal trial for the galleys. If you are innocent, why not explain +the matter? What do you wait for? What do you hope?" + +"Nothing." + +Mechinet had, in the meantime, completed the official report. + +"We must go," said M. Galpin + +"Am I at liberty," asked M. de Boiscoran, "to write a few lines to my +father and my mother? They are old: such an event may kill them." + +"Impossible!" said the magistrate. + +Then, turning to Anthony, he said,-- + +"I am going to put the seals on this room, and I shall leave it in the +meanwhile in your keeping. You know your duty, and the penalties to +which you would be subject, if, at the proper time, every thing is not +found in the same condition in which it is left now. Now, how shall we +get back to Sauveterre?" + +After mature deliberation it was decided that M. de Boiscoran should +go in one of his own carriages, accompanied by one of the gendarmes. +M. Daubigeon, the magistrate, and the clerk would return in the +mayor's carriage, driven by Ribot, who was furious at being kept under +surveillance. + +"Let us be off," said the magistrate, when the last formalities had +been fulfilled. + +M. de Boiscoran came down slowly. He knew the court was full of +furious peasants; and he expected to be received with hootings. It was +not so. The gendarme whom the attorney had sent down had done his duty +so well, that not a cry was heard. But when he had taken his seat in +the carriage, and the horse went off at a trot, fierce curses arose, +and a shower of stones fell, one of which wounded a gendarme. + +"Upon my word, you bring ill luck, prisoner," said the man, a friend +of the other gendarme who had been so much injured at the fire. + +M. de Boiscoran made no reply. He sank back into the corner, and +seemed to fall into a kind of stupor, from which he did not rouse +himself till the carriage drove into the yard of the prison at +Sauveterre. On the threshold stood Master Blangin, the jailer, smiling +with delight at the idea of receiving so distinguished a prisoner. + +"I am going to give you my best room," he said, "but first I have to +give a receipt to the gendarme, and to enter you in my book." +Thereupon he took down his huge, greasy register, and wrote the name +of Jacques de Boiscoran beneath that of Trumence Cheminot, a vagabond +who had just been arrested for having broken into a garden. + +It was all over. Jacques de Boiscoran was a prisoner, to be kept in +close confinement. + + + + + SECOND PART + + THE BOISCORAN TRIAL + + + + I. + +The Paris house of the Boiscoran family, No. 216 University Street, is +a house of modest appearance. The yard in front is small; and the few +square yards of damp soil in the rear hardly deserve the name of a +garden. But appearances are deceptive. The inside is marvellously +comfortable; careful and painstaking hands have made every provision +for ease; and the rooms display that solid splendor for which our age +has lost the taste. The vestibule contains a superb mosaic, brought +home from Venice, in 1798, by one of the Boiscorans, who had +degenerated, and followed the fortunes of Napoleon. The balusters of +the great staircase are a masterpiece of iron work; and the +wainscoting in the dining-room has no rival in Paris. + +All this, however, is a mere nothing in comparison with the marquis's +cabinet of curiosities. It fills the whole depth, and half the width, +of the upper story; is lighted from above like a huge /atelier/; and +would fill the heart of an artist with delight. Immense glass cases, +which stand all around against the walls, hold the treasures of the +marquis,--priceless collections of enamels, ivories, bronzes, unique +manuscripts, matchless porcelains, and, above all, his /faiences/, his +dear /faiences/, the pride and the torment of his old age. + +The owner was well worthy of such a setting. + +Though sixty-one years old at that time, the marquis was as straight +as ever, and most aristocratically lean. He had a perfectly +magnificent nose, which absorbed immense quantities of snuff; his +mouth was large, but well furnished; and his brilliant eyes shone with +that restless cunning which betrayed the amateur, who has continually +to deal with sharp and eager dealers in curiosities and second-hand +articles of /vertu/. + +In the year 1845 he had reached the summit of his renown by a great +speech on the question of public meetings; but at that hour his watch +seemed to have stopped. All his ideas were those of an Orleanist. His +appearance, his costume, his high cravat, his whiskers, and the way he +brushed his hair, all betrayed the admirer and friend of the citizen +king. But for all that, he did not trouble himself about politics; in +fact, he troubled himself about nothing at all. With the only +condition that his inoffensive passion should be respected, the +marchioness was allowed to rule supreme in the house, administering +her large fortune, ruling her only son, and deciding all questions +without the right of appeal. It was perfectly useless to ask the +marquis any thing: his answer was invariably,-- + +"Ask my wife." + +The good man had, the evening before, purchased a little at haphazard, +a large lot of /faiences/, representing scenes of the Revolution; and +at about three o'clock, he was busy, magnifying-glass in hand, +examining his dishes and plates, when the door was suddenly opened. + +The marchioness came in, holding a blue paper in her hand. Six or +seven years younger than her husband, she was the very companion for +such an idle, indolent man. In her walk, in her manner, and in her +voice, she showed at once the woman who stands at the wheel, and means +to be obeyed. Her once celebrated beauty had left remarkable traces +enough to justify her pretensions. She denied having any claims to +being considered handsome, since it was impossible to deny or conceal +the ravages of time, and hence by far her best policy was to accept +old age with good grace. Still, if the marchioness did not grow +younger, she pretended to be older than she really was. She had her +gray hair puffed out with considerable affectation, so as to contrast +all the more forcibly with her ruddy, blooming cheeks, which a girl +might have envied and she often thought of powdering her hair. + +She was so painfully excited, and almost undone, when she came into +her husband's cabinet, that even he, who for many a year had made it a +rule of his life to show no emotion, was seriously troubled. Laying +aside the dish which he was examining, he said with an anxious +voice,-- + +"What is the matter? What has happened?" + +"A terrible misfortune." + +"Is Jacques dead?" cried the old collector. + +The marchioness shook her head. + +"No! It is something worse, perhaps"-- + +The old man, who has risen at the sight of his wife, sank slowly back +into his chair. + +"Tell me," he stammered out,--"tell me. I have courage." + +She handed him the blue paper which she had brought in, and said +slowly,-- + +"Here. A telegram which I have just received from old Anthony, our +son's valet." + +With trembling hands the old marquis unfolded the paper, and read,-- + +"Terrible misfortune! Master Jacques accused of having set the chateau +at Valpinson on fire, and murdered Count Claudieuse. Terrible evidence +against him. When examined, hardly any defence. Just arrested and +carried to jail. In despair. What must I do?" + +The marchioness had feared lest the marquis should have been crushed +by this despatch, which in its laconic terms betrayed Anthony's abject +terror. But it was not so. He put it back on the table in the calmest +manner, and said, shrugging his shoulders,-- + +"It is absurd!" + +His wife did not understand it. She began again,-- + +"You have not read it carefully, my friend"-- + +"I understand," he broke in, "that our son is accused of a crime which +he has not and can not have committed. You surely do not doubt his +innocence? What a mother you would be! On my part, I assure you I am +perfectly tranquil. Jacques an incendiary! Jacques a murderer! That is +nonsense!" + +"Ah! you did not read the telegram," exclaimed the marchioness. + +"I beg your pardon." + +"You did not see that there was evidence against him." + +"If there had been none, he could not have been arrested. Of course, +the thing is disagreeable: it is painful." + +"But he did not defend himself." + +"Upon my word! Do you think that if to-morrow somebody accused me of +having robbed the till of some shopkeeper, I would take the trouble to +defend myself?" + +"But do you not see that Anthony evidently thinks our son is guilty?" + +"Anthony is an old fool!" declared the marquis. + +Then pulling out his snuffbox, and stuffing his nose full of snuff, he +said,-- + +"Besides, let us consider. Did you not tell me that Jacques is in love +with that little Dionysia Chandore?" + +"Desperately. Like a real child." + +"And she?" + +"She adores Jacques." + +"Well. And did you not also tell me that the wedding-day was fixed?" + +"Yes, three days ago." + +"Has Jacques written to you about the matter?" + +"An excellent letter." + +"In which he tells you he is coming up?" + +"Yes: he wanted to purchase the wedding-presents himself." With a +gesture of magnificent indifference the marquis tapped the top of his +snuffbox, and said,-- + +"And you think a boy like our Jacques, a Boiscoran, in love, and +beloved, who is about to be married, and has his head full of wedding- +presents, could have committed such a horrible crime? Such things are +not worth discussing, and, with your leave, I shall return to my +occupation." + +If doubt is contagious, confidence is still more so. Gradually the +marchioness felt reassured by the perfect assurance of her husband. +The blood came back to her cheeks; and smiles reappeared on pale lips. +She said in a stronger voice,-- + +"In fact, I may have been too easily frightened." + +The marquis assented by a gesture. + +"Yes, much too easily, my dear. And, between us, I would not say much +about it. How could the officers help accusing our Jacques if his own +mother suspects him?" + +The marchioness had taken up the telegram, and was reading it over +once more. + +"And yet," she said, answering her own objections, "who in my place +would not have been frightened? This name of Claudieuse especially"-- + +"Why? It is the name of an excellent and most honorable gentleman,-- +the best man in the world, in spite of his sea-dog manners." + +"Jacques hates him, my dear." + +"Jacques does not mind him any more than that." + +"They have repeatedly quarrelled." + +"Of course. Claudieuse is a furious legitimist; and as such he always +talks with the utmost contempt of all of us who have been attached to +the Orleans family." + +"Jacques has been at law with him." + +"And he has done right, only he ought to have carried the matter +through. Claudieuse has claims on the Magpie, which divides our lands, +--absurd claims. He wants at all seasons, and according as he may +desire, to direct the waters of the little stream into his own +channels, and thus drown the meadows at Boiscoran, which are lower +than his own. Even my brother, who was an angel in patience and +gentleness, had his troubles with this tyrant." + +But the marchioness was not convinced yet. + +"There was another trouble," she said. + +"What?" + +"Ah! I should like to know myself." + +"Has Jacques hinted at any thing?" + +"No. I only know this. Last year, at the Duchess of Champdoce's, I met +by chance the Countess Claudieuse and her children. The young woman is +perfectly charming; and, as we were going to give a ball the week +after, it occurred to me to invite her at once. She refused, and did +so in such an icy, formal manner, that I did not insist." + +"She probably does not like dancing," growled the marquis. + +"That same evening I mentioned the matter to Jacques. He seemed to be +very angry, and told me, in a manner that was hardly compatible with +respect, that I had been very wrong, and that he had his reasons for +not desiring to come in contact with those people." + +The marquis felt so secure, that he only listened with partial +attention, looking all the time aside at his precious /faiences/. + +"Well," he said at last, "Jacques detests the Claudieuses. What does +that prove? God be thanked, we do not murder all the people we +detest!" + +His wife did not insist any longer. She only asked,-- + +"Well, what must we do?" + +She was so little in the habit of consulting her husband, that he was +quite surprised. + +"The first thing is to get Jacques out of jail. We must see--we ought +to ask for advice." + +At this moment a light knock was heard at the door. + +"Come in!" he said. + +A servant came in, bringing a large envelope, marked "Telegraphic +Despatch. Private." + +"Upon my word!" cried the marquis. "I thought so. Now we shall be all +right again." + +The servant had left the room. He tore open the envelope; but at the +first glance at the contents the smile vanished, he turned pale, and +just said,-- + +"Great God!" + +Quick as lightning, the marchioness seized the fatal paper. She read +at a glance,-- + + "Come quick. Jacques in prison; close confinement; accused of + horrible crime. The whole town says he is guilty, and that he has + confessed. Infamous calumny! His judge is his former friend, + Galpin, who was to marry his cousin Lavarande. Know nothing except + that Jacques is innocent. Abominable intrigue! Grandpa Chandore + and I will do what can be done. Your help indispensable. Come, + come! + + "DIONYSIA CHANDORE." + +"Ah, my son is lost!" cried the marchioness with tears in her eyes. +The marquis, however, had recovered already from the shock. + +"And I--I say more than ever, with Dionysia, who is a brave girl, +Jacques is innocent. But I see he is in danger. A criminal prosecution +is always an ugly affair. A man in close confinement may be made to +say any thing." + +"We must do something," said the mother, nearly mad with grief. + +"Yes, and without losing a minute. We have friends: let us see who +among them can help us." + +"I might write to M. Margeril." + +The marquis, who had turned quite pale, became livid. + +"What!" he cried. "You dare utter that name in my presence?" + +"He is all powerful; and my son is in danger." + +The marquis stopped her with a threatening gesture, and cried with an +accent of bitter hatred,-- + +"I would a thousand times rather my son should die innocent on the +scaffold than owe his safety to that man!" + +His wife seemed to be on the point of fainting. + +"Great God! And yet you know very well that I was only a little +indiscreet." + +"No more!" said the marquis harshly. + +Then, recovering his self-control by a powerful effort, he went on,-- + +"Before we attempt any thing, we must know how the matter stands. You +will leave for Sauveterre this evening." + +"Alone?" + +"No. I will find some able lawyer,--a reliable jurist, who is not a +politician,--if such a one can be found nowadays. He will tell you +what to do, and will write to me, so that I can do here whatever may +be best. Dionysia is right. Jacques must be the victim of some +abominable intrigue. Nevertheless, we shall save him; but we must keep +cool, perfectly cool." + +And as he said this he rang the bell so violently, that a number of +servants came rushing in at once. + +"Quick," he said; "send for my lawyer, Mr. Chapelain. Take a +carriage." + +The servant who took the order was so expeditious, that, in less than +twenty minutes, M. Chapelain arrived. + +"Ah! we want all your experience, my friend," said the marquis to him. +"Look here. Read these telegrams." + +Fortunately, the lawyer had such control over himself, that he did not +betray what he felt; for he believed Jacques guilty, knowing as he did +how reluctant courts generally are to order the arrest of a suspected +person. + +"I know the man for the marchioness," he said at last. + +"Ah!" + +"A young man whose modesty alone has kept him from distinguishing +himself so far, although I know he is one of the best jurists at the +bar, and an admirable speaker." + +"What is his name?" + +"Manuel Folgat. I shall send him to you at once." + +Two hours later, M. Chapelain's /protégé/ appeared at the house of the +Boiscorans. He was a man of thirty-one or thirty-two, with large, +wide-open eyes, whose whole appearance was breathing intelligence and +energy. + +The marquis was pleased with him, and after having told him all he +knew about Jacques's position, endeavored to inform him as to the +people down at Sauveterre,--who would be likely to be friends, and who +enemies, recommending to him, above all, to trust M. Seneschal, an old +friend of the family, and a most influential man in that community. + +"Whatever is humanly possible shall be done, sir," said the lawyer. + +That same evening, at fifteen minutes past eight, the Marchioness of +Boiscoran and Manuel Folgat took their seats in the train for Orleans. + + + + II. + +The railway which connects Sauveterre with the Orleans line enjoys a +certain celebrity on account of a series of utterly useless curves, +which defy all common sense, and which would undoubtedly be the source +of countless accidents, if the trains were not prohibited from going +faster than eight or ten miles an hour. + +The depot has been built--no doubt for the greater convenience of +travellers--at a distance of two miles from town, on a place where +formerly the first banker of Sauveterre had his beautiful gardens. The +pretty road which leads to it is lined on both sides with inns and +taverns, on market-days full of peasants, who try to rob each other, +glass in hand, and lips overflowing with protestations of honesty. On +ordinary days even, the road is quite lively; for the walk to the +railway has become a favorite promenade. People go out to see the +trains start or come in, to examine the new arrivals, or to exchange +confidences as to the reasons why Mr. or Mrs. So-and-so have made up +their mind to travel. + +It was nine o'clock in the morning when the train which brought the +marchioness and Manuel Folgat at last reached Sauveterre. The former +was overcome by fatigue and anxiety, having spent the whole night in +discussing the chances for her son's safety, and was all the more +exhausted as the lawyer had taken care not to encourage her hopes. + +For he also shared, in secret at least, M. Chapelain's doubts. He, +also, had said to himself, that a man like M. de Boiscoran is not apt +to be arrested, unless there are strong reasons, and almost +overwhelming proofs of his guilt in the hands of the authorities. + +The train was slackening speed. + +"If only Dionysia and her father," sighed the marchioness, "have +thought of sending a carriage to meet us." + +"Why so?" asked Manuel Folgat. + +"Because I do not want all the world to see my grief and my tears." + +The young lawyer shook his head, and said,-- + +"You will certainly not do that, madame, if you are disposed to follow +my advice." + +She looked at him quite amazed; but he insisted. + +"I mean you must not look as if you wished not to be seen: that would +be a great, almost irreparable mistake. What would they think if they +saw you in tears and great distress? They would say you were sure of +your son's guilt; and the few who may still doubt will doubt no +longer. You must control public opinion from the beginning; for it is +absolute in these small communities, where everybody is under somebody +else's immediate influence. Public opinion is all powerful; and say +what you will, it controls even the jurymen in their deliberations." + +"That is true," said the marchioness: "that is but too true." + +"Therefore, madame, you must summon all your energy, conceal your +maternal anxiety in your innermost heart, dry your tears, and show +nothing but the most perfect confidence. Let everybody say, as he sees +you, 'No mother could look so who thinks her son guilty.' " + +The marchioness straightened herself, and said,-- + +"You are right, sir; and I thank you. I must try to impress public +opinion as you say; and, so far from wishing to find the station +deserted, I shall be delighted to see it full of people. I will show +you what a woman can do who thinks of her son's life." + +The Marchioness of Boiscoran was a woman of rare power. + +Drawing her comb from her dressing-case, she repaired the disorder of +her coiffure; with a few skilful strokes she smoothed her dress; her +features, by a supreme effort of will, resumed their usual serenity; +she forced her lips to smile without betraying the effort it cost her; +and then she said in a clear, firm voice,-- + +"Look at me, sir. Can I show myself now?" + +The train stopped at the station. Manuel Folgat jumped out lightly; +and, offering the marchioness his hand to assist her, he said,-- + +"You will be pleased with yourself, madam. Your courage will not be +useless. All Sauveterre seems to be here. + +This was more than half true. Ever since the night before, a report +had been current,--no one knew how it had started,--that the +"murderer's mother," as they charitably called her, would arrive by +the nine o'clock train; and everybody had determined to happen to be +at the station at that hour. In a place where gossip lives for three +days upon the last new dress from Paris, such an opportunity for a +little excitement was not to be neglected. No one thought for a moment +of what the poor old lady would probably feel upon being compelled +thus to face a whole town; for at Sauveterre curiosity has at least +the merit, that it is not hypocritical. Everybody is openly +indiscreet, and by no means ashamed of it. They place themselves right +in front of you, and look at you, and try to find out the secret of +your joy or your grief. + +It must be borne in mind, however, that public opinion was running +strongly against M. de Boiscoran. If there had been nothing against +him but the fire at Valpinson, and the attempts upon Count Claudieuse, +that would have been a small matter. But the fire had had terrible +consequences. Two men had perished in it; and two others had been so +severely wounded as to put their lives in jeopardy. Only the evening +before, a sad procession had passed through the streets of Sauveterre. +In a cart covered with a cloth, and followed by two priests, the +almost carbonized remains of Bolton the drummer, and of poor +Guillebault, had been brought home. The whole city had seen the widow +go to the mayor's office, holding in her arms her youngest child, +while the four others clung to her dress. + +All these misfortunes were traced back to Jacques, who was loaded with +curses; and the people now thought of receiving his mother, the +marchioness, with fierce hootings. + +"There she is, there she is!" they said in the crowd, when she +appeared in the station, leaning upon M. Folgat's arm. + +But they did not say another word, so great was their surprise at her +appearance. Immediately two parties were formed. "She puts a bold face +on it," said some; while others declared, "She is quite sure of her +son's innocence." + +At all events, she had presence of mind enough to see what an +impression she produced, and how well she had done to follow M. +Folgat's advice. It gave her additional strength. As she distinguished +in the crowd some people whom she knew, she went up to them, and, +smiling, said,-- + +"Well, you know what has happened to us. It is unheard of! Here is the +liberty of a man like my son at the mercy of the first foolish notion +that enters the head of a magistrate. I heard the news yesterday by +telegram, and came down at once with this gentleman, a friend of ours, +and one of the first lawyers of Paris." + +M. Folgat looked embarrassed: he would have liked more considerate +words. Still he could not help supporting the marchioness in what she +had said. + +"These gentlemen of the court," he said in measured tones, "will +perhaps be sorry for what they have done." + +Fortunately a young man, whose whole livery consisted in a gold-laced +cap, came up to them at this moment. + +"M. de Chandore's carriage is here," he said. + +"Very well," replied the marchioness. + +And bowing to the good people of Sauveterre, who were quite dumfounded +by her assurance, she said,-- + +"Pardon me if I leave you so soon; but M. de Chandore expects us. I +shall, however, be happy to call upon you soon, on my son's arm." + +The house of the Chandore family stands on the other side of the New- +Market Place, at the very top of the street, which is hardly more than +a line of steps, which the mayor persistently calls upon the municipal +council to grade, and which the latter as persistently refuse to +improve. The building is quite new, massive but ugly, and has at the +side a pretentious little tower with a peaked roof, which Dr. +Seignebos calls a perpetual menace of the feudal system. + +It is true the Chandores once upon a time were great feudal lords, and +for a long time exhibited a profound contempt for all who could not +boast of noble ancestors and a deep hatred of revolutionary ideas. But +if they had ever been formidable, they had long since ceased to be so. +Of the whole great family,--one of the most numerous and most powerful +of the province,--only one member survived, the Baron de Chandore, and +a girl, his granddaughter, betrothed to Jacques de Boiscoran. Dionysia +was an orphan. She was barely three years old, when within five +months, she lost her father, who fell in a duel, and her mother, who +had not the strength to survive the man whom she had loved. This was +certainly for the child a terrible misfortune; but she was not left +uncared for nor unloved. Her grandfather bestowed all his affections +upon her; and the two sisters of her mother, the Misses Lavarande, +then already no longer young, determined never to marry, so as to +devote themselves exclusively to their niece. From that day the two +good ladies had wished to live in the baron's house; but from the +beginning he had utterly refused to listen to their propositions, +asserting that he was perfectly able himself to watch over the child, +and wanted to have her all to himself. All he would grant was, that +the ladies might spend the day with Dionysia whenever they chose. + +Hence arose a certain rivalry between the aunts and the grandfather, +which led both parties to most amazing exaggerations. Each one did +what could be done to engage the affections of the little girl; each +one was willing to pay any price for the most trifling caress. At five +years Dionysia had every toy that had ever been invented. At ten she +was dressed like the first lady of the land, and had jewelry in +abundance. + +The grandfather, in the meantime, had been metamorphosed from head to +foot. Rough, rigid, and severe, he had suddenly become a "love of a +father." The fierce look had vanished from his eyes, the scorn from +his lips; and both had given way to soft glances and smooth words. He +was seen daily trotting through the streets, and going from shop to +shop on errands for his grandchild. He invited her little friends, +arranged picnics for her, helped her drive her hoops, and if needs be, +led in a cotillion. + +If Dionysia looked displeased, he trembled. If she coughed, he turned +pale. Once she was sick: she had the measles. He staid up for twelve +nights in succession, and sent to Paris for doctors, who laughed in +his face. + +And yet the two old ladies found means to exceed his folly. + +If Dionysia learned any thing at all, it was only because she herself +insisted upon it: otherwise the writing-master and the music-master +would have been sent away at the slightest sign of weariness. + +Sauveterre saw it, and shrugged its shoulders. + +"What a wretched education!" the ladies said. "Such weakness is +absolutely unheard of. They tender the child a sorry service." + +There was no doubt that such almost incredible spoiling, such blind +devotion, and perpetual worship, came very near making of Dionysia the +most disagreeable little person that ever lived. But fortunately she +had one of those happy dispositions which cannot be spoiled; and +besides, she was perhaps saved from the danger by its very excess. As +she grew older she would say with a laugh,-- + +"Grandpapa Chandore, my aunts Lavarande, and I, we do just what we +choose." + +That was only a joke. Never did a young girl repay such sweet +affection with rarer and nobler qualities. + +She was thus leading a happy life, free from all care, and was just +seventeen years old, when the great event of her life took place. M. +de Chandore one morning met Jacques de Boiscoran, whose uncle had been +a friend of his, and invited him to dinner. Jacques accepted the +invitation, and came. Dionysia saw him, and loved him. + +Now, for the first time in her life, she had a secret unknown to +Grandpapa Chandore and to her aunts; and for two years the birds and +the flowers were the only confidants of this love of hers, which grew +up in her heart, sweet like a dream, idealized by absence, and fed by +memory. + +For Jacques's eyes remained blind for two years. + +But the day on which they were opened he felt that his fate was +sealed. Nor did he hesitate a moment; and in less than a month after +that, the Marquis de Boiscoran came down to Sauveterre, and in all +form asked Dionysia's hand for his son. + +Ah! that was a heavy blow for Grandpapa Chandore. + +He had, of course, often thought of the future marriage of his +grandchild; he had even at times spoken of it, and told her that he +was getting old, and should feel very much relieved when he should +have found her a good husband. But he talked of it as a distant thing, +very much as we speak of dying. M. de Boiscoran brought his true +feelings out. He shuddered at the idea of giving up Dionysia, of +seeing her prefer another man to himself, and of loving her children +best of all. He was quite inclined to throw the ambassador out of the +window. + +Still he checked his feelings, and replied that he could give no reply +till he had consulted his granddaughter. + +Poor grandpapa! At the very first words he uttered, she exclaimed,-- + +"Oh, I am so happy! But I expected it." + +M. de Chandore bent his head to conceal a tear which burned in his +eyes. Then he said very low,-- + +"Then the thing is settled." + +At once, rather comforted by the joy that was sparkling in his +grandchild's eyes, he began reproaching himself for his selfishness, +and for being unhappy, when his Dionysia seemed to be so happy. +Jacques had, of course, been allowed to visit the house as a lover; +and the very day before the fire at Valpinson, after having long and +carefully counted the days absolutely required for all the purchases +of the trousseau, and all the formalities of the event, the wedding- +day had been finally fixed. + +Thus Dionysia was struck down in the very height of her happiness, +when she heard, at the same time, of the terrible charges brought +against M. de Boiscoran, and of his arrest. + +At first, thunderstruck, she had lain nearly ten minutes unconscious +in the arms of her aunts, who, like the grandfather, were themselves +utterly overcome with terror. But, as soon as she came to, she +exclaimed,-- + +"Am I mad to give way thus? Is it not evident that he is innocent?" + +Then she had sent her telegram to the marquis, knowing well, that, +before taking any measures, it was all important to come to an +understanding with Jacques's family. Then she had begged to be left +alone; and she had spent the night in counting the minutes that must +pass till the hour came when the train from Paris would bring her +help. + +At eight o'clock she had come down to give orders herself that a +carriage should be sent to the station for the marchioness, adding +that they must drive back as fast as they could. Then she had gone +into the sitting-room to join her grandfather and her aunts. They +talked to her; but her thoughts were elsewhere. + +At last a carriage was heard coming up rapidly, and stopping before +the house. She got up, rushed into the hall, and cried,-- + +"Here is Jacques's mother!" + + + + III. + +We cannot do violence to our natural feelings without paying for it. +The marchioness had nearly fainted when she could at last take refuge +in the carriage: she was utterly overcome by the great effort she had +made to present to the curious people of Sauveterre a smiling face and +calm features. + +"What a horrible comedy!" she murmured, as she sank back on the +cushions. + +"Admit, at least, madam," said the lawyer, "that it was necessary. You +have won over, perhaps, a hundred persons to your son's side." + +She made no reply. Her tears stifled her. What would she not have +given for a few moments' solitude, to give way to all the grief of her +heart, to all the anxiety of a mother! The time till she reached the +house seemed to her an eternity; and, although the horse was driven at +a furious rate, she felt as if they were making no progress. At last +the carriage stopped. + +The little servant had jumped down, and opened the door, saying,-- + +"Here we are." + +The marchioness got out with M. Folgat's assistance; and her foot was +hardly on the ground, when the house-door opened, and Dionysia threw +herself into her arms, too deeply moved to speak. At last she broke +forth,-- + +"Oh, my mother, my mother! what a terrible misfortune!" + +In the passage M. de Chandore was coming forward. He had not been able +to follow his granddaughter's rapid steps. + +"Let us go in," he said to the two ladies: "don't stand there!" + +For at all the windows curious eyes were peeping through the blinds. + +He drew them into the sitting-room. Poor M. Folgat was sorely +embarrassed what to do with himself. No one seemed to be aware of his +existence. He followed them, however. He entered the room, and +standing by the door, sharing the general excitement, he was watching +by turns, Dionysia, M. de Chandore, and the two spinsters. + +Dionysia was then twenty years old. It could not be said that she was +uncommonly beautiful; but no one could ever forget her again who had +once seen her. Small in form, she was grace personified; and all her +movements betrayed a rare and exquisite perfection. Her black hair +fell in marvellous masses over her head, and contrasted strangely with +her blue eyes and her fair complexion. Her skin was of dazzling +whiteness. Every thing in her features spoke of excessive timidity. +And yet, from certain movements of her lips and her eyebrows, one +might have suspected no lack of energy. + +Grandpapa Chandore looked unusually tall by her side. His massive +frame was imposing. He did not show his seventy-two years, but was as +straight as ever, and seemed to be able to defy all the storms of +life. What struck strangers most, perhaps, was his dark-red +complexion, which gave him the appearance of an Indian chieftain, +while his white beard and hair brought the crimson color still more +prominently out. In spite of his herculean frame and his strange +complexion, his face bore the expression of almost child-like +goodness. But the first glance at his eyes proved that the gentle +smile on his lips was not to be taken alone. There were flashes in his +gray eyes which made people aware that a man who should dare, for +instance, to offend Dionysia, would have to pay for it pretty dearly. + +As to the two aunts, they were as tall and thin as a couple of willow- +rods, pale, discreet, ultra-aristocratic in their reserve and their +coldness; but they bore in their faces an expression of happy peace +and sentimental tenderness, such as is often seen in old maids whose +temper has not been soured by celibacy. They dressed absolutely alike, +as they had done now for forty years, preferring neutral colors and +modest fashions, such as suited their simple taste. + +They were crying bitterly at that moment; and M. Folgat felt +instinctively that there was no sacrifice of which they were not +capable for their beloved niece's sake. + +"Poor Dionysia!" they whispered. + +The girl heard them, however; and, drawing herself up, she said,-- + +"But we are behaving shamefully. What would Jacques say, if he could +see us from his prison! Why should we be so sad? Is he not innocent?" + +Her eyes shone with unusual brilliancy: her voice had a ring which +moved Manuel Folgat deeply. + +"I can at least, in justice to myself," she went on saying, "assure +you that I have never doubted him for a moment. And how should I ever +have dared to doubt? The very night on which the fire broke out, +Jacques wrote me a letter of four pages, which he sent me by one of +his tenants, and which reached me at nine o'clock. I showed it to +grandpapa. He read it, and then he said I was a thousand times right, +because a man who had been meditating such a crime could never have +written that letter." + +"I said so, and I still think so," added M. de Chandore; "and every +sensible man will think so too; but"-- + +His granddaughter did not let him finish. + +"It is evident therefore, that Jacques is the victim of an abominable +intrigue; and we must unravel it. We have cried enough: now let us +act!" + +Then, turning to the marchioness, she said,-- + +"And my dear mother, I sent for you, because we want you to help us in +this great work." + +"And here I am," replied the old lady, "not less certain of my son's +innocence than you are." + +Evidently M. de Chandore had been hoping for something more; for he +interrupted her, asking,-- + +"And the marquis?" + +"My husband remained in Paris." + +The old gentleman's face assumed a curious expression. + +"Ah, that is just like him," he said. "Nothing can move him. His only +son is wickedly accused of a crime, arrested, thrown into prison. They +write to him; they hope he will come at once. By no means. Let his son +get out of trouble as he can. He has his /faiences/ to attend to. Oh, +if I had a son!" + +"My husband," pleaded the marchioness, "thinks he can be more useful +to Jacques in Paris than here. There will be much to be done there." + +"Have we not the railway?" + +"Moreover," she went on, "he intrusted me to this gentleman." She +pointed out M. Folgat. + +"M. Manuel Folgat, who has promised us the assistance of his +experience, his talents, and his devotion." + +When thus formally introduced, M. Folgat bowed, and said,-- + +"I am all hope. But I think with Miss Chandore, that we must go to +work without losing a second. Before I can decide, however, upon what +is to be done, I must know all the facts." + +"Unfortunately we know nothing," replied M. de Chandore,--"nothing, +except that Jacques is kept in close confinement." + +"Well, then, we must try to find out. You know, no doubt, all the law +officers of Sauveterre?" + +"Very few. I know the commonwealth attorney." + +"And the magistrate before whom the matter has been brought." + +The older of the two Misses Lavarande rose, and exclaimed,-- + +"That man, M. Galpin, is a monster of hypocrisy and ingratitude. He +called himself Jacques's friend; and Jacques liked him well enough to +induce us, my sister and myself, to give our consent to a marriage +between him and one of our cousins, a Lavarande. Poor child. When she +learned the sad truth, she cried, 'Great God! God be blessed that I +escaped the disgrace of becoming the wife of such a man!' " + +"Yes," added the other old lady, "if all Sauveterre thinks Jacques +guilty, let them also say, 'His own friend has become his judge.' " + +M. Folgat shook his head, and said,-- + +"I must have more minute information. The marquis mentioned to me a M. +Seneschal, mayor of Sauveterre." + +M. de Chandore looked at once for his hat, and said,-- + +"To be sure! He is a friend of ours; and, if any one is well informed, +he is. Let us go to him. Come." + +M. Seneschal was indeed a friend of the Chandores, the Lavarandes, and +also of the Boiscorans. Although he was a lawyer he had become +attached to the people whose confidential adviser he had been for more +than twenty years. Even after having retired from business, M. +Seneschal had still retained the full confidence of his former +clients. They never decided on any grave question, without consulting +him first. His successor did the business for them; but M. Seneschal +directed what was to be done. + +Nor was the assistance all on one side. The example of great people +like M. de Chandore and Jacques's uncle had brought many a peasant on +business into M. Seneschal's office; and when he was, at a later +period of his life, attacked by the fever of political ambition, and +offered to "sacrifice himself for his country" by becoming mayor of +Sauveterre, and a member of the general council, their support had +been of great service to him. + +Hence he was well-nigh overcome when he returned, on that fatal +morning, to Sauveterre. He looked so pale and undone, that his wife +was seriously troubled. + +"Great God, Augustus! What has happened?" she asked. + +"Something terrible has happened," he replied in so tragic a manner, +that his wife began to tremble. + +To be sure, Mrs. Seneschal trembled very easily. She was a woman of +forty-five or fifty years, very dark, short, and fat, trying hard to +breathe in the corsets which were specially made for her by the Misses +Mechinet, the clerk's sisters. When she was young, she had been rather +pretty: now she still kept the red cheeks of her younger days, a +forest of jet black hair, and excellent teeth. But she was not happy. +Her life had been spent in wishing for children, and she had none. + +She consoled herself, it is true, by constantly referring to all the +most delicate details on the subject, mentioning not to her intimate +friends only, but to any one who would listen, her constant +disappointments, the physicians she had consulted, the pilgrimages she +had undertaken, and the quantities of fish she had eaten, although she +abominated fish. All had been in vain, and as her hopes fled with her +years, she had become resigned, and indulged now in a kind of romantic +sentimentality, which she carefully kept alive by reading novels and +poems without end. She had a tear ready for every unfortunate being, +and some words of comfort for every grief. Her charity was well known. +Never had a poor woman with children appealed to her in vain. In spite +of all that, she was not easily taken in. She managed her household +with her hand as well as with her eye; and no one surpassed her in the +extent of her washings, or the excellence of her dinners. + +She was quite ready, therefore, to sigh and to sob when her husband +told her what had happened during the night. When he had ended, she +said,-- + +"That poor Dionysia is capable of dying of it. In your place, I would +go at once to M. de Chandore, and inform him in the most cautious +manner of what has happened." + +"I shall take good care not to do so," replied M. Seneschal; "and I +tell you expressly not to go there yourself." + +For he was by no means a philosopher; and, if he had been his own +master, he would have taken the first train, and gone off a hundred +miles, so as not to see the grief of the Misses Lavarande and +Grandpapa Chandore. He was exceedingly fond of Dionysia: he had been +hard at work for years to settle and to add to her fortune, as if she +had been his own daughter, and now to witness her grief! He shuddered +at the idea. Besides, he really did not know what to believe, and +influenced by M. Galpin's assurance, misled by public opinion, he had +come to ask himself if Jacques might not, after all, have committed +the crimes with which he was charged. + +Fortunately his duties were on that day so numerous and so +troublesome, that he had no time to think. He had to provide for the +recovery and the transportation of the remains of the two unfortunate +victims of the fire; he had to receive the mother of one, and the +widow and children of the other, and to listen to their complaints, +and try to console them by promising the former a small pension, and +the latter some help in the education of their children. Then he had +to give directions to have the wounded men brought home; and, after +that, he had gone out in search of a house for Count Claudieuse and +his wife, which had given him much trouble. Finally, a large part of +the afternoon had been taken up by an angry discussion with Dr. +Seignebos. The doctor, in the name of outraged society, as he called +it, and in the name of justice and humanity, demanded the immediate +arrest of Cocoleu, that wretch whose unconscious statement formed the +basis of the accusation. He demanded with a furious oath that the +epileptic idiot should be sent to the hospital, and kept there so as +to be professionally examined by experts. The mayor had for some time +refused to grant the request, which seemed to him unreasonable; but he +doctor had talked so loud and insisted so strongly, that at last he +had sent two gendarmes to Brechy with orders to bring back Cocoleu. + +They had returned several hours later with empty hands. The idiot had +disappeared; and no one in the whole district had been able to give +any information as to this whereabouts. + +"And you think that is natural?" exclaimed Dr. Seignebos, whose eyes +were glaring at the mayor from under his spectacles. "To me that looks +like an absolute proof that a plot has been hatched to ruin M. de +Boiscoran." + +"But can't you be quiet?" M. Seneschal said angrily. "Do you think +Cocoleu is lost? He will turn up again." + +The doctor had left him without insisting any longer; but before going +home, he had dropped in at his club, and there, in the presence of +twenty people he had declared that he had positive proof of a plot +formed against M. de Boiscoran, whom the Monarchists had never +forgiven for having left them; and that the Jesuits were certainly +mixed up with the business. + +This interference was more injurious than useful to Jacques; and the +consequences were soon seen. That same evening, when M. Galpin crossed +the New-Market Place, he was wantonly insulted. Very naturally he +went, almost in a fury, to call upon the mayor, to hold him +responsible for this insult offered to Justice in his person, and +asking for energetic punishment. M. Seneschal promised to take the +proper measures, and went to the commonwealth attorney to act in +concert with him. There he learned what had happened at Boiscoran, and +the terrible result of the examination. + +So he had come home, quite sorrowful, distressed at Jacques's +situation, and very much disturbed by the political aspect which the +matter was beginning to wear. He had spent a bad night, and in the +morning had displayed such fearful temper, that his wife had hardly +dared to say a word to him. But even that was not all. At two o'clock +precisely, the funeral of Bolton and Guillebault was to take place; +and he had promised Capt. Parenteau that he would be present in his +official costume, and accompanied by the whole municipal council. He +had already given orders to have his uniform gotten ready, when the +servant announced visitors,--M. de Chandore and friend. + +"That was all that was wanting!" he exclaimed + +But, thinking it over, he added,-- + +"Well, it had to come sooner r later. Show them in!" + +M. Seneschal was too good to be so troubled in advance, and to prepare +himself for a heart-rending scene. He was amazed at the easy, almost +cheerful manner with which M. de Chandore presented to him his +companion. + +"M. Manuel Folgat, my dear Seneschal, a famous lawyer from Paris, who +has been kind enough to come down with the Marchioness de Boiscoran." + +"I am a stranger here, M. Seneschal," said Folgat: "I do not know the +manner of thinking, the customs, the interests, the prejudices, of +this country; in fact, I am totally ignorant, and I know I would +commit many a grievous blunder, unless I could secure the assistance +of an able and experienced counsellor. M. de Boiscoran and M. de +Chandore have both encouraged me to hope that I might find such a man +in you." + +"Certainly, sir, and with all my heart," replied M. Seneschal, bowing +politely, and evidently flattered by this deference on the part of a +great Paris lawyer. + +He had offered his guests seats. He had sat down himself, and resting +his elbow on the arm of his big office-chair, he rubbed his clean- +shaven chin with his hand. + +"This is a very serious matter, gentlemen," he said at last. + +"A criminal charge is always serious," replied M. Folgat. + +"Upon my word," cried M. de Chandore, "you are not in doubt about +Jacques's innocence?" + +M. Seneschal did not say, No. He was silent, thinking of the wise +remarks made by his wife the evening before. + +"How can we know," he began at last, "what may be going on in young +brains of twenty-five when they are set on fire by the remembrance of +certain insults! Wrath is a dangerous counsellor." + +Grandpapa Chandore refused to hear any more. + +"What! do you talk to me of wrath?" he broke in; "and what do you see +of wrath in this Valpinson affair? I see nothing in it, for my part, +but the very meanest crime, long prepared and coolly carried out." + +The mayor very seriously shook his head, and said,-- + +"You do not know all that has happened." + +"Sir," added M. Folgat, "it is precisely for the purpose of hearing +what has happened that we come to you." + +"Very well," said M. Seneschal. + +Thereupon he went to work to describe the events which he had +witnessed at Valpinson, and those, which, as he had learned from the +commonwealth attorney, had taken place at Boiscoran; and this he did +with all the lucidity of an experienced old lawyer who is accustomed +to unravel the mysteries of complicated suits. He wound up by +saying,-- + +"Finally, do you know what Daubigeon said to me, whose evidence you +will certainly know how to appreciate? He said in so many words, +'Galpin could not but order the arrest of M. de Boiscoran. Is he +guilty? I do not know what to think of it. The accusation is +overwhelming. He swears by all the gods that he is innocent; but he +will not tell how he spent the night.' " + +M. de Chandore, in spite of his vigor, was near fainting, although his +face remained as crimson as ever. Nothing on earth could make him turn +pale. + +"Great God!" he murmured, "what will Dionysia say?" + +Then, turning to M. Folgat, he said aloud,-- + +"And yet Jacques had something in his mind for that evening." + +"Do you think so?" + +"I am sure of it. But for that, he would certainly have come to the +house, as he has done every evening for a month. Besides, he said so +himself in the letter which he sent Dionysia by one of his tenants, +and which she mentioned to you. He wrote, 'I curse from the bottom of +my heart the business which prevents me from spending the evening with +you; but I cannot possibly defer it any longer. To-morrow!' " + +"You see," said M. Seneschal. + +"The letter is of such a nature," continued the old gentleman, "that I +repeat, No man who premeditated such a hideous crime could possibly +have written it. Nevertheless, I confess to you, that, when I heard +the fatal news, this very allusion to some pressing business impressed +me painfully." + +But the young lawyer seemed to be far from being convinced. + +"It is evident," he said, "that M. de Boiscoran will on no account let +it be known where he went." + +"He told a falsehood, sir," insisted M. Seneschal. "He commenced by +denying that he had gone the way on which the witnesses met him." + +"Very naturally, since he desires to keep the place unknown to which +he went." + +"He did not say any more when he was told that he was under arrest." + +"Because he hopes he will get out of this trouble without betraying +his secret." + +"If that were so, it would be very strange." + +"Stranger things than that have happened." + +"To allow himself to be accused of incendiarism and murder when he is +innocent!" + +"To be innocent, and to allow one's self to be condemned, is still +stranger; and yet there are instances"-- + +The young lawyer spoke in that short, imperious tone which is, so to +say, the privilege of his profession, and with such an accent of +assurance, that M. de Chandore felt his hopes revive. M. Seneschal was +sorely troubled. + +"And what do you think, sir?" he asked. + +"That M. de Boiscoran must be innocent," replied the young advocate. +And, without leaving time for objections, he continued,-- + +"That is the opinion of a man who is not influenced by any +consideration. I come here without any preconceived notions. I do not +know Count Claudieuse any more than M. de Boiscoran. A crime has been +committed: I am told the circumstances; and I at once come to the +conclusion that the reasons which led to the arrest of the accused +would lead me to set him at liberty." + +"Oh!" + +"Let me explain. If M. de Boiscoran is guilty, he has shown, in the +way in which he received M. Galpin at the house, a perfectly unheard- +of self-control, and a matchless genius for comedy. Therefore, if he +is guilty, he is immensely clever"-- + +"But." + +"Allow me to finish. If he is guilty, he has in the examination shown +a marvellous want of self-control, and, to be brief, a nameless +stupidity: therefore, if he is guilty, he is immensely stupid"-- + +"But." + +"Allow me to finish. Can one and the same person be at once so +unusually clever and so unusually stupid? Judge yourself. But again: +if M. de Boiscoran is guilty, he ought to be sent to the insane +asylum, and not to prison; for any one else but a madman would have +poured out the dirty water in which he had washed his blackened hands, +and would have buried anywhere that famous breech-loader, of which the +prosecution makes such good use." + +"Jacques is safe!" exclaimed M. de Chandore. + +M. Seneschal was not so easily won over. + +"That is specious pleading," he said. "Unfortunately, we want +something more than a logic conclusion to meet a jury with an +abundance of witnesses on the other side." + +"We will find more on our side." + +"What do you propose to do?" + +"I do not know. I have just told you my first impression. Now I must +study the case, and examine the witnesses, beginning with old +Anthony." + +M. de Chandore had risen. He said,-- + +"We can reach Boiscoran in an hour. Shall I send for my carriage?" + +"As quickly as possible," replied the young lawyer. + +M. de Chandore's servant was back in a quarter of an hour, and +announced that the carriage was at the door. M. de Chandore and M. +Folgat took their seats; and, while they were getting in, the mayor +warned the young Paris lawyer,-- + +"Above all, be prudent and circumspect. The public mind is already but +too much inflamed. Politics are mixed up with the case. I am afraid of +some disturbance at the burial of the firemen; and they bring me word +that Dr. Seignebos wants to make a speech at the graveyard. Good-by +and good luck!" + +The driver whipped the horse, and, as the carriage was going down +through the suburbs, M. de Chandore said,-- + +"I cannot understand why Anthony did not come to me immediately after +his master had been arrested. What can have happened to him?" + + + + IV. + +M. Seneschal's horse was perhaps one of the very best in the whole +province; but M. de Chandore's was still better. In less than fifty +minutes they had driven the whole distance to Boiscoran; and during +this time M. de Chandore and M. Folgat had not exchanged fifty words. + +When they reached Boiscoran, the courtyard was silent and deserted. +Doors and windows were hermetically closed. On the steps of the porch +sat a stout young peasant, who, at the sight of the newcomers, rose, +and carried his hand to his cap. + +"Where is Anthony?" asked M. de Chandore. + +"Up stairs, sir." + +The old gentleman tried to open the door: it resisted. + +"O sir! Anthony has barricaded the door from the inside." + +"A curious idea," said M. de Chandore, knocking with the butt-end of +his whip. + +He was knocking fiercer and fiercer, when at last Anthony's voice was +heard from within,-- + +"Who is there?" + +"It is I, Baron Chandore." + +The bars were removed instantly, and the old valet showed himself in +the door. He looked pale and undone. The disordered condition of his +beard, his hair, and his dress, showed that he had not been to bed. +And this disorder was full of meaning in a man who ordinarily prided +himself upon appearing always in the dress of an English gentleman. + +M. de Chandore was so struck by this, that he asked, first of all,-- + +"What is the matter with you, my good Anthony?" + +Instead of replying, Anthony drew the baron and his companion inside; +and, when he had fastened the door again, he crossed his arms, and +said,-- + +"The matter is--well, I am afraid." + +The old gentleman and the lawyer looked at each other. They evidently +both thought the poor man had lost his mind. Anthony saw it, and said +quickly,-- + +"No, I am not mad, although, certainly, there are things passing here +which could make one doubtful of one's own senses. If I am afraid, it +is for good reasons." + +"You do not doubt your master?" asked M. Folgat. + +The servant cast such fierce, threatening glances at the lawyer, that +M. de Chandore hastened to interfere. + +"My dear Anthony," he said, "this gentleman is a friend of mine, a +lawyer, who has come down from Paris with the marchioness to defend +Jacques. You need not mistrust him, nay, more than that, you must tell +him all you know, even if"-- + +The trusty old servant's face brightened up, and he exclaimed,-- + +"Ah! If the gentleman is a lawyer. Welcome, sir. Now I can say all +that weighs on my heart. No, most assuredly I do not think Master +Jacques guilty. It is impossible he should be so: it is absurd to +think of it. But what I believe, what I am sure of, is this,--there is +a plot to charge him with all the horrors of Valpinson." + +"A plot?" broke in M. Folgat, "whose? how? and what for?" + +"Ah! that is more than I know. But I am not mistaken; and you would +think so too, if you had been present at the examination, as I was. It +was fearful, gentlemen, it was unbearable, so that even I was +stupefied for a moment, and thought my master was guilty, and advised +him to flee. The like has never been heard of before, I am sure. Every +thing went against him. Every answer he made sounded like a +confession. A crime had been committed at Valpinson; he had been seen +going there and coming back by side paths. A fire had been kindled; +his hands bore traces of charcoal. Shots had been fired; they found +one of his cartridge-cases close to the spot where Count Claudieuse +had been wounded. There it was I saw the plot. How could all these +circumstances have agreed so precisely if they had not been pre- +arranged, and calculated beforehand? Our poor M. Daubigeon had tears +in his eyes; and even that meddlesome fellow, Mechinet, the clerk, was +quite overcome. M. Galpin was the only one who looked pleased; but +then he was the magistrate, and he put the questions. He, my master's +friend!--a man who was constantly coming here, who ate our bread, +slept in our beds, and shot our game. Then it was, 'My dear Jacques,' +and 'My dear Boiscoran' always, and no end of compliments and +caresses; so that I often thought one of these days I should find him +blackening my master's boots. Ah! he took his revenge yesterday; and +you ought to have seen with what an air he said to master, 'We are +friends no longer.' The rascal! No, we are friends no longer; and, if +God was just, you ought to have all the shot in your body that has +wounded Count Claudieuse." + +M. de Chandore was growing more and more impatient. As soon, +therefore, as Anthony's breath gave out a moment, he said,-- + +"Why did you not come and tell me all that immediately?" + +The old servant ventured to shrug his shoulders slightly, and +replied,-- + +"How could I? When the examination was over, that man, Galpin, put the +seals everywhere,--strips of linen, fastened on with sealing-wax, as +they do with dead people. He put one on every opening, and on some of +them two. He put three on the outer door. Then he told me that he +appointed me keeper of the house, that I would be paid for it, but +that I would be sent to the galleys if any one touched the seals with +the tip of the finger. When he had handed master over to the +gendarmes, that man, Galpin, went away, leaving me here alone, +dumfounded, like a man who has been knocked in the head. Nevertheless, +I should have come to you, sir, but I had an idea, and that gave me +the shivers." + +Grandpapa Chandore stamped his foot, and said,-- + +"Come to the point, to the point!" + +"It was this: you must know, gentlemen, that, in the examination, that +breech-loading gun played a prominent part. That man, Galpin looked at +it carefully, and asked master when he had last fired it off. Master +said, 'About five days ago. You hear, I say, five days.' Thereupon, +that man, Galpin, puts the gun down, without looking at the barrels." + +"Well?" asked M. Folgat. + +"Well, sir, I--Anthony--I had the evening before--I say the evening +before--cleaned the gun, washed it, and"-- + +"Upon my word," cried M. de Chandore, "why did you not say so at once? +If the barrels are clean, that is an absolute proof that Jacques is +innocent." + +The old servant shook his head, and said,-- + +"To be sure, sir. But are they clean?" + +"Oh!" + +"Master may have been mistaken as to the time when he last fired the +gun, and then the barrels would be soiled; and, instead of helping +him, my evidence might ruin him definitely. Before I say any thing, I +ought to be sure." + +"Yes," said Folgat, approvingly, "and you have done well to keep +silence, my good man, and I cannot urge you too earnestly not to say a +word of it to any one. That fact may become a decisive argument for +the /defence/." + +"Oh! I can keep my tongue, sir. Only you may imagine how impatient it +has made me to see these accursed seals which prevent me from going to +look at the gun. Oh, if I had dared to break one of them!" + +"Poor fellow!" + +"I thought of doing it; but I checked myself. Then it occurred to me +that other people might think of the same thing. The rascals who have +formed this abominable plot against Master Jacques are capable of any +thing, don't you think so? Why might not they come some night, and +break the seals? I put the steward on guard in the garden, beneath the +windows. I put his son as a sentinel into the courtyard; and I have +myself stood watch before the seals with arms in my hands all the +time. Let the rascals come on; they will find somebody to receive +them." + +In spite of all that is said, lawyers are better than their +reputation. Lawyers, accused of being sceptics above all men, are, on +the contrary, credulous and simple-minded. Their enthusiasm is +sincere; and, when we think they play a part, they are in earnest. In +the majority of cases, they fancy their own side the just one, even +though they should be beaten. Hour by hour, ever since his arrival at +Sauveterre, M. Folgat's faith in Jacques's innocence had steadily +increased. Old Anthony's tale was not made to shake his growing +conviction. He did not admit the existence of a plot, however; but he +was not disinclined to believe in the cunning calculations of some +rascal, who, availing himself of circumstances known to him alone, +tried to let all suspicion fall upon M. de Boiscoran, instead of +himself. + +But there were many more questions to be asked; and Anthony was in +such a state of feverish excitement, that it was difficult to induce +him to answer. For it is not so easy to examine a man, however +inclined he may be to answer. It requires no small self-possession, +much care, and an imperturbable method, without which the most +important facts are apt to be overlooked. M. Folgat began, therefore, +after a moment's pause, once more, saying,-- + +"My good Anthony, I cannot praise your conduct in this matter too +highly. However, we have not done with it yet. But as I have eaten +nothing since I left Paris last night, and as I hear the bell strike +twelve o'clock"-- + +M. de Chandore seemed to be heartily ashamed, and broke in,-- + +"Ah, forgetful old man that I am! Why did I not think of it? But you +will pardon me, I am sure. I am so completely upset. Anthony, what can +you let us have?" + +"The housekeeper has eggs, potted fowl, ham"-- + +"Whatever can be made ready first will be the best," said the young +lawyer. + +"In a quarter of an hour the table shall be set," replied the servant. + +He hurried away, while M. de Chandore invited M. Folgat into the +sitting-room. The poor grandfather summoned all his energy to keep up +appearances. + +"This fact about the gun will save him, won't it?" he asked. + +"Perhaps so," replied the famous advocate. + +And they were silent,--the grandfather thinking of the grief of his +grandchild, and cursing the day on which he had opened his house to +Jacques, and with him to such heart-rending anguish; the lawyer +arranging in his mind the facts he had learned, and preparing the +questions he was going to ask. They were both so fully absorbed by +their thoughts, that they started when Anthony reappeared, and said,-- + +"Gentlemen, breakfast is ready!" + +The table had been set in the dining-room; and, when the two gentlemen +had taken their seats, old Anthony placed himself, his napkin over his +arm, behind them; but M. de Chandore called him, saying,-- + +"Put another plate, Anthony, and breakfast with us." + +"Oh, sir," protested the old servant,--"sir"-- + +"Sit down," repeated the baron: "if you eat after us, you will make us +lose time, and an old servant like you is a member of the family." + +Anthony obeyed, quite overcome, but blushing with delight at the honor +that was done him; for the Baron de Chandore did not usually +distinguish himself to familiarity. When the ham and eggs of the +housekeeper had been disposed of, M. Folgat said,-- + +"Now let us go back to business. Keep cool, my dear Anthony, and +remember, that, unless we get the court to say that there is no case, +your answers may become the basis of our defence. What were M. de +Boiscoran's habits when he was here?" + +"When he was here, sir, he had, so to say, no habits. We came here +very rarely, and only for a short time." + +"Never mind: what was he doing here?" + +"He used to rise late; he walked about a good deal; he sometimes went +out hunting; he sketched; he read, for master is a great reader, and +is as fond of his books as the marquis, his father, is of his +porcelains." + +"Who came here to see him?" + +"M. Galpin most frequently, Dr. Seignebos, the priest from Brechy, M. +Seneschal, M. Daubigeon." + +"How did he spend his evenings?" + +"At M. de Chandore's, who can tell you all about it." + +"He had no other relatives in this country?" + +"No." + +"You do not know that he had any lady friend?" + +Anthony looked as if he would have blushed. + +"Oh, sir!" he said, "you do not know, I presume, that master is +engaged to Miss Dionysia?" + +The Baron de Chandore was not a baby, as he liked to call it. Deeply +interested as he was, he got up, and said,-- + +"I want to take a little fresh air." + +And he went out, understanding very well that his being Dionysia's +grandfather might keep Anthony from telling the truth. + +"That is a sensible man," thought M. Folgat. + +Then he added aloud,-- + +"Now we are alone, my dear Anthony, you can speak frankly. Did M. de +Boiscoran keep a mistress?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did he ever have one?" + +"Never. They will tell you, perhaps, that once upon a time he was +rather pleased with a great, big red-haired woman, the daughter of a +miller in the neighborhood, and that the gypsy of a woman came more +frequently to the chateau than was needful,--now on one pretext, and +now on another. But that was mere childishness. Besides, that was five +years ago, and the woman has been married these three years to a +basket-maker at Marennes." + +"You are quite sure of what you say?" + +"As sure as I am of myself. And you would be as sure of it yourself, +if you knew the country as I know it, and the abominable tongues the +people have. There is no concealing any thing from them. I defy a man +to talk three times to a woman without their finding it out, and +making a story of it. I say nothing of Paris"-- + +M. Folgat listened attentively. He asked,-- + +"Ah! was there any thing of the kind in Paris?" + +Anthony hesitated; at last he said,-- + +"You see, master's secrets are not my secrets, and, after the oath I +have sworn,"-- + +"It may be, however, that his safety depends upon your frankness in +telling me all," said the lawyer. "You may be sure he will not blame +you for having spoken." + +For several seconds the old servant remained undecided; then he +said,-- + +"Master, they say, has had a great love-affair." + +"When?" + +"I do not know when. That was before I entered his service. All I know +is, that, for the purpose of meeting the person, master had bought at +Passy, at the end of Vine Street, a beautiful house, in the centre of +a large garden, which he had furnished magnificently." + +"Ah!" + +"That is a secret, which, of course, neither master's father nor his +mother knows to this day; and I only know it, because one day master +fell down the steps, and dislocated his foot, so that he had to send +for me to nurse him. He may have bought the house under his own name; +but he was not known by it there. He passed for an Englishmen, a Mr. +Burnett; and he had an English maid-servant." + +"And the person?" + +"Ah, sir! I not only do not know who she is, but I cannot even guess +it, she took such extraordinary precautions! Now that I mean to tell +you every thing, I will confess to you that I had the curiosity to +question the English maid. She told me that she was no farther than I +was, that she knew, to be sure, a lady was coming there from time to +time; but that she had never seen even the end of her nose. Master +always arranged it so well, that the girl was invariably out on some +errand or other when the lady came and when she went away. While she +was in the house, master waited upon her himself. And when they wanted +to walk in the garden, they sent the servant away, on some fool's +errand, to Versailles or to Fontainebleau; and she was mad, I tell +you." + +M. Folgat began to twist his mustache, as he was in the habit of doing +when he was specially interested. For a moment, he thought he saw the +woman--that inevitable woman who is always at the bottom of every +great event in man's life; and just then she vanished from his sight; +for he tortured his mind in vain to discover a possible if not +probable connection between the mysterious visitor in Vine Street and +the events that had happened at Valpinson. He could not see a trace. +Rather discouraged, he asked once more,-- + +"After all, my dear Anthony, this great love-affair of your master's +has come to an end?" + +"It seems so, sir, since Master Jacques was going to marry Miss +Dionysia." + +That reason was perhaps not quite as conclusive as the good old +servant imagined; but the young advocate made no remark. + +"And when do you think it came to an end?" + +"During the war, master and the lady must have been parted; for master +did not stay in Paris. He commanded a volunteer company; and he was +even wounded in the head, which procured him the cross." + +"Does he still own the house in Vine Street?" + +"I believe so." + +"Why?" + +"Because, some time ago, when master and I went to Paris for a week, +he said to me one day, 'The War and the commune have cost me dear. My +cottage has had more than twenty shells, and it has been in turn +occupied by /Francs-tireurs/, Communists and Regulars. The walls are +broken; and there is not a piece of furniture uninjured. My architect +tells me, that all in all, the repairs will cost me some ten thousand +dollars.' " + +"What? Repairs? Then he thought of going back there?" + +"At that time, sir, master's marriage had not been settled. Yet"-- + +"Still that would go to prove that he had at that time met the +mysterious lady once more, and that the war had not broken off their +relations." + +"That may be." + +"And has he never mentioned the lady again?" + +"Never." + +At this moment M. de Chandore's cough was heard in the hall,--that +cough which men affect when they wish to announce their coming. +Immediately afterwards he reappeared; and M. Folgat said to him, to +show that his presence was no longer inconvenient,-- + +"Upon my word, sir, I was just on the point of going in search of you, +for fear that you felt really unwell." + +"Thank you," replied the old gentleman, "the fresh air has done me +good." + +He sat down; and the young advocate turned again to Anthony, saying,-- + +"Well, let us go on. How was he the day before the fire?" + +"Just as usual." + +"What did he do before he went out?" + +"He dined as usual with a good appetite; then he went up stairs and +remained there for an hour. When he came down, he had a letter in his +hand, which he gave to Michael, our tenant's son, and told him to +carry it to Sauveterre, to Miss Chandore." + +"Yes. In that letter, M. de Boiscoran told Miss Dionysia that he was +retained here by a matter of great importance." + +"Ah!" + +"Have you any idea what that could have been?" + +"Not at all, sir, I assure you." + +"Still let us see. M. de Boiscoran must have had powerful reasons to +deprive himself of the pleasure of spending the evening with Miss +Dionysia?" + +"Yes, indeed." + +"He must also have had his reasons for taking to the marshes, on his +way out, instead of going by the turnpike, and for coming back through +the woods." + +Old Anthony was literally tearing his hair, as he exclaimed,-- + +"Ah, sir! These are the very words M. Galpin said." + +"Unfortunately every man in his senses will say so." + +"I know, sir: I know it but too well. And Master Jacques himself knew +it so well that at first he tried to find some pretext; but he has +never told a falsehood. And he who is such a clever man could not find +a pretext that had any sense in it. He said he had gone to Brechy to +see his wood-merchant"-- + +"And why should he not?" + +Anthony shook his head, and said,-- + +"Because the wood-merchant at Brechy is a thief, and everybody knows +that master has kicked him out of the house some three years ago. We +sell all our wood at Sauveterre." + +M. Folgat had taken out a note-book, and wrote down some of Anthony's +statements, preparing thus the outline of his defence. This being +done, he commenced again,-- + +"Now we come to Cocoleu." + +"Ah the wretch!" cried Anthony. + +"You know him?" + +"How could I help knowing him, when I lived all my life here at +Boiscoran in the service of master's uncle?" + +"Then what kind of a man is he?" + +"An idiot, sir or, as they here call it, an innocent, who has Saint +Vitus dance into the bargain, and epilepsy moreover." + +"Then it is perfectly notorious that he is imbecile?" + +"Yes, sir, although I have heard people insist that he is not quite so +stupid as he looks, and that, as they say here, he plays the ass in +order to get his oats"-- + +M. de Chandore interrupted him, and said,-- + +"On this subject Dr. Seignebos can give you all the information you +may want: he kept Cocoleu for nearly two years at his own house." + +"I mean to see the doctor," replied M. Folgat. "But first of all we +must find this unfortunate idiot." + +"You heard what M. Seneschal said: he has put the gendarmes on his +track." + +Anthony made a face, and said,-- + +"If the gendarmes should take Cocoleu, Cocoleu must have given himself +up voluntarily." + +"Why so?" + +"Because, gentlemen, there is no one who knows all the by-ways and +out-of-the-way corners of the country so well as that idiot; for he +has been hiding all his life like a savage in all the holes and +hiding-places that are about here; and, as he can live perfectly well +on roots and berries, he may stay away three months without being seen +by any one." + +"Is it possible?" exclaimed M. Folgat angrily. + +"I know only one man," continued Anthony, "who could find out Cocoleu, +and that is our tenant's son Michael,--the young man you saw down +stairs." + +"Send for him," said M. de Chandore. + +Michael appeared promptly, and, when he had heard what he was expected +to do, he replied,-- + +"The thing can be done, certainly; but it is not very easy. Cocoleu +has not the sense of a man; but he has all the instincts of a brute. +However, I'll try." + +There was nothing to keep either M. de Chandore or M. Folgat any +longer at Boiscoran; hence, after having warned Anthony to watch the +seals well, and get a glimpse, if possible, of Jacques's gun, when the +officers should come for the different articles, they left the +chateau. It was five o'clock when they drove into town again. Dionysia +was waiting for them in the sitting-room. She rose as they entered, +looking quite pale, with dry, brilliant eyes. + +"What? You are alone here!" said M. de Chandore. "Why have they left +you alone?" + +"Don't be angry, grandpapa. I have just prevailed on the marchioness, +who was exhausted with fatigue to lie down for an hour or so before +dinner." + +"And your aunts?" + +"They have gone out, grandpapa. They are probably, by this time at M. +Galpin's." + +M. Folgat started, and said,-- + +"Oh!" + +"But that is foolish in them!" exclaimed the old gentleman. + +The young girl closed his lips by a single word. She said,-- + +"I asked them to go." + + + + V. + +Yes, the step taken by the Misses Lavarande was foolish. At the point +which things had reached now, their going to see M. Galpin was perhaps +equivalent to furnishing him the means to crush Jacques. But whose +fault was it, but M. de Chandore's and M. Folgat's? Had they not +committed an unpardonable blunder in leaving Sauveterre without any +other precaution than to send word through M. Seneschal's servant, +that they would be back for dinner, and that they need not be troubled +about them? + +Not be troubled? And that to the Marchioness de Boiscoran and +Dionysia, to Jacques's mother and Jacques's betrothed. + +Certainly, at first, the two wretched women preserved their self- +control in a manner, trying to set each other an example of courage +and confidence. But, as hour after hour passed by, their anxiety +became intolerable; and gradually, as they confided their +apprehensions to each other, their grief broke out openly. They +thought of Jacques being innocent, and yet treated like one of the +worst criminals, alone in the depth of his prison, given up to the +most horrible inspirations of despair. What could have been his +feelings during the twenty-four hours which had brought him no news +from his friends? Must he not fancy himself despised and abandoned. + +"That is an intolerable thought!" exclaimed Dionysia at lat. "We must +get to him at any price." + +"How?" asked the marchioness. + +"I do not know; but there must be some way. There are things which I +would not have ventured upon as long as I was alone; but, with you by +my side, I can risk any thing. Let us go to the prison." + +The old lady promptly put a shawl around her shoulders, and said,-- + +"I am ready; let us go." + +They had both heard repeatedly that Jacques was kept in close +confinement; but neither of them realized fully what that meant. They +had no idea of this atrocious measure, which is, nevertheless, +rendered necessary by the peculiar forms of French law-proceedings,--a +measure which, so to say, immures a man alive, and leaves him in his +cell alone with the crime with which he is charged, and utterly at the +mercy of another man, whose duty it is to extort the truth from him. +The two ladies only saw the want of liberty, a cell with its dismal +outfittings, the bars at the window, the bolts at the door, the jailer +shaking his bunch of keys at his belt, and the tramp of the solitary +sentinel in the long passages. + +"They cannot refuse me permission," said the old lady, "to see my +son." + +"They cannot," repeated Dionysia. "And, besides, I know the jailer, +Blangin: his wife was formerly in our service." + +When the young girl, therefore, raised the heavy knocker at the +prison-door, she was full of cheerful confidence. Blangin himself came +to the door; and, at the sight of the two poor ladies, his broad face +displayed the utmost astonishment. + +"We come to see M. de Boiscoran," said Dionysia boldly. + +"Have you a permit, ladies?" asked the keeper. + +"From whom?" + +"From M. Galpin." + +"We have no permit." + +"Then I am very sorry to have to tell you, ladies, that you cannot +possibly see M. de Boiscoran. He is kept in close confinement, and I +have the strictest orders." + +Dionysia looked threatening, and said sharply,-- + +"Your orders cannot apply to this lady, who is the Marchioness de +Boiscoran." + +"My orders apply to everybody, madam." + +"You would not, I am sure, keep a poor, distressed mother from seeing +her son!" + +"Ah! but--madam--it does not rest with me. I? Who am I? Nothing more +than one of the bolts, drawn or pushed at will." + +For the first time, it entered the poor girl's head that her effort +might fail: still she tried once more, with tears in her eyes,-- + +"But I, my dear M. Blangin, think of me! You would not refuse me? +Don't you know who I am? Have you never heard your wife speak of me?" + +The jailer was certainly touched. He replied,-- + +"I know how much my wife and myself are indebted to your kindness, +madam. But--I have my orders, and you surely would not want me to lose +my place, madam?" + +"If you lose your place, M. Blangin, I, Dionysia de Chandore, promise +you another place twice as good." + +"Madame!" + +"You do not doubt my word, M. Blangin, do you?" + +"God forbid, madam! But it is not my place only. If I did what you +want me to do, I should be severely punished." + +The marchioness judged from the jailer's tone that Dionysia was not +likely to prevail over him, and so she said,-- + +"Don't insist, my child. Let us go back." + +"What? Without finding out what is going on behind these pitiless +walls; without knowing even whether Jacques is dead or alive?" + +There was evidently a great struggle going on in the jailer's heart. +All of a sudden he cast a rapid glance around, and then said, speaking +very hurriedly,-- + +"I ought not to tell you--but never mind--I cannot let you go away +without telling you that M. de Boiscoran is quite well." + +"Ah!" + +"Yesterday, when they brought him here, he was, so to say, overcome. +He threw himself upon his bed, and he remained there without stirring +for over two hours. I think he must have been crying." + +A sob, which Dionysia could not suppress, made Blangin start. + +"Oh, reassure yourself, madame!" he added quickly. "That state of +things did not last long. Soon M. de Boiscoran got up, and said, 'Why, +I am a fool to despair!' " + +"Did you hear him say so?" asked the old lady. + +"Not I. It was Trumence who heard it." + +"Trumence?" + +"Yes, one of our jail-birds. Oh! he is only a vagabond, not bad at +all; and he has been ordered to stand guard at the door of M. de +Boiscoran's cell, and not for a moment to lose sight of it. It was M. +Galpin who had that idea, because the prisoners sometimes in their +first despair,--a misfortune happens so easily,--they become weary of +life--Trumence would be there to prevent it." + +The old lady trembled with horror. This precautionary measure, more +than any thing else, gave her the full measure of her son's situation. + +"However," M. Blangin went on, "there is nothing to fear. M. de +Boiscoran became quite calm again, and even cheerful, if I may say so. +When he got up this morning, after having slept all night like a +dormouse, he sent for me, and asked me for paper, ink, and pen. All +the prisoners ask for that the second day. I had orders to let him +have it, and so I gave it to him. When I carried him his breakfast, he +handed me a letter for Miss Chandore." + +"What?" cried Dionysia, "you have a letter for me, and you don't give +it to me?" + +"I do not have it now, madam. I had to hand it, as is my duty, to M. +Galpin, when he came accompanied by his clerk, Mechinet, to examine M. +de Boiscoran." + +"And what did he say?" + +"He opened the letter, read it, put it into his pocket, and said, +'Well.' " + +Tears of anger this time sprang from Dionysia's eyes; and she cried,-- + +"What a shame? This man reads a letter written by Jacques to me! That +is infamous!" + +And, without thinking of thanking Blangin, she drew off the old lady, +and all the way home did not say a word. + +"Ah, poor child, you did not succeed," exclaimed the two old aunts, +when they saw their niece come back. + +But, when they had heard every thing, they said,-- + +"Well, we'll go and see him, this little magistrate, who but the day +before yesterday was paying us abject court to obtain the hand of our +cousin. And we'll tell him the truth; and, if we cannot make him give +us back Jacques, we will at least trouble him in his triumph, and take +down his pride." + +How could poor Dionysia help adopting the notions of the old ladies, +when their project offered such immediate satisfaction to her +indignation, and at the same time served her secret hopes? + +"Oh, yes! You are right, dear aunts," she said. "Quick, don't lose any +time; go at once!" + +Unable to resist her entreaties, they started instantly, without +listening to the timid objections made by the marchioness. But the +good ladies were sadly mistaken as to the state of mind of M. Galpin. +The ex-lover of one of their cousins was not bedded on roses by any +means. At the beginning of this extraordinary affair he had taken hold +of it with eagerness, looking upon it as an admirable opportunity, +long looked for, and likely to open wide the doors to his burning +ambition. Then having once begun, and the investigation being under +way, he had been carried away by the current, without having time to +reflect. He had even felt a kind of unhealthy satisfaction at seeing +the evidence increasing, until he felt justified and compelled to +order his former friend to be sent to prison. At that time he was +fairly dazzled by the most magnificent expectations. This preliminary +inquiry, which in a few hours already had led to the discovery of a +culprit the most unlikely of all men in the province, could not fail +to establish his superior ability and matchless skill. + +But, a few hours later, M. Galpin looked no longer with the same eye +upon these events. Reflection had come; and he had begun to doubt his +ability, and to ask himself, if he had not, after all, acted rashly. +If Jacques was guilty, so much the better. He was sure, in that case, +immediately after the verdict, to obtain brilliant promotion. Yes, but +if Jacques should be innocent? When that thought occurred to M. Galpin +for the first time, it made him shiver to the marrow of his bones. +Jacques innocent!--that was his own condemnation, his career ended, +his hopes destroyed, his prospects ruined forever. Jacques innocent!-- +that was certain disgrace. He would be sent away from Sauveterre, +where he could not remain after such a scandal. He would be banished +to some out-of-the-way village, and without hope of promotion. + +In vain he tried to reason that he had only done his duty. People +would answer, if they condescended at all to answer, that there are +flagrant blunders, scandalous mistakes, which a magistrate must not +commit; and that for the honor of justice, and in the interest of the +law, it is better, under certain circumstances, to let a guilty man +escape, than to punish an innocent one. + +With such anxiety on his mind, the most cruel that can tear the heart +of an ambitious man, M. Galpin found his pillow stuffed with thorns. +He had been up since six o'clock. At eleven, he had sent for his +clerk, Mechinet; and they had gone together to the jail to recommence +the examination. It was then that the jailer had handed him the +prisoner's letter for Dionysia. It was a short note, such as a +sensible man would write who knows full well that a prisoner cannot +count upon the secrecy of his correspondence. It was not even sealed, +a fact which M. Blangin had not noticed. + + "Dionysia, my darling," wrote the prisoner, "the thought of the + terrible grief I cause you is my most cruel, and almost my only + sorrow. Need I stoop to assure you that I am innocent? I am sure + it is not needed. I am the victim of a fatal combination of + circumstances, which could not but mislead justice. But be + reassured, be hopeful. When the time comes, I shall be able to set + matters right. + + "JACQUES." + +"Well," M. Galpin had really said after reading this letter. +Nevertheless it had stung him to the quick. + +"What assurance!" he had said to himself. + +Still he had regained courage while ascending the steps of the prison. +Jacques had evidently not thought it likely that his note would reach +its destination directly, and hence it might be fairly presumed that +he had written for the eyes of justice as well as for his lady-love. +The fact that the letter was not sealed even, gave some weight to this +presumption. + +"After all we shall see," said M. Galpin, while Blangin was unlocking +the door. + +But he found Jacques as calm as if he had been in his chateau at +Boiscoran, haughty and even scornful. It was impossible to get any +thing out of him. When he was pressed, he became obstinately silent, +or said that he needed time to consider. The magistrate had returned +home more troubled than ever. The position assumed by Jacques puzzled +him. Ah, if he could have retraced his steps! + +But it was too late. He had burnt his vessels, and condemned himself +to go on to the end. For his own safety, for his future life, it was +henceforth necessary that Jacques de Boiscoran should be found guilty; +that he should be tried in open court, and there be sentenced. It must +be. It was a question of life or death for him. + +He was in this state of mind when the two Misses Lavarande called at +his house, and asked to see him. He shook himself; and in an instant +his over-excited mind presented to him all possible contingencies. +What could the two old ladies want of him? + +"Show them in," he said at last. + +They came in, and haughtily declined the chairs that were offered. + +"I hardly expected to have the honor of a visit from you, ladies," he +commenced. + +The older of the two, Miss Adelaide, cut him short, saying,-- + +"I suppose not, after what has passed." + +And thereupon, speaking with all the eloquence of a pious woman who is +trying to wither an impious man, she poured upon him a stream of +reproaches for what she called his infamous treachery. What? How could +he appear against Jacques, who was his friend, and who had actually +aided him in obtaining the promise of a great match. By that one hope +he had become, so to say, a member of the family. Did he not know that +among kinsmen it was a sacred duty to set aside all personal feelings +for the purpose of protecting that sacred patrimony called family +honor? + +M. Galpin felt like a man upon whom a handful of stones falls from the +fifth story of a house. Still he preserved his self-control, and even +asked himself what advantage he might obtain from this extraordinary +scene. Might it open a door for reconciliation? + +As soon, therefore, as Miss Adelaide stopped, he began justifying +himself, painting in hypocritical colors the grief it had given him, +swearing that he was able to control the events, and that Jacques was +as dear to him now as ever. + +"If he is so dear to you," broke in Miss Adelaide, "why don't you set +him free?" + +"Ah! how can I?" + +"At least give his family and his friends leave to see him." + +"The law will not let me. If he is innocent, he has only to prove it. +If he is guilty, he must confess. In the first case, he will be set +free; in the other case, he can see whom he wishes." + +"If he is so dear to you, how could you dare read the letter he had +written to Dionysia?" + +"It is one of the most painful duties of my profession to do so." + +"Ah! And does that profession also prevent you from giving us that +letter after having read it?" + +"Yes. But I may tell you what is in it." + +He took it out of a drawer, and the younger of the two sisters, Miss +Elizabeth, copied it in pencil. Then they withdrew, almost without +saying good-by. + +M. Galpin was furious. He exclaimed,-- + +"Ah, old witches! I see clearly you do not believe in Jacques's +innocence. Why else should his family be so very anxious to see him? +No doubt they want to enable him to escape by suicide the punishment +of his crime. But, by the great God, that shall not be, if I can help +it!" + +M. Folgat was, as we have seen, excessively annoyed at this step taken +by the Misses Lavarande; but he did not let it be seen. It was very +necessary that he at least should retain perfect presence of mind and +calmness in this cruelly tried family. M. de Chandore, on the other +hand, could not conceal his dissatisfaction so well; and, in spite of +his deference to his grandchild's wishes, he said,-- + +"I am sure, my dear child, I don't wish to blame you. But you know +your aunts, and you know, also, how uncompromising they are. They are +quite capable of exasperating M. Galpin." + +"What does it matter?" asked the young girl haughtily. "Circumspection +is all very well for guilty people; but Jacques is innocent." + +"Miss Chandore is right," said M. Folgat, who seemed to succumb to +Dionysia like the rest of the family. "Whatever the ladies may have +done, they cannot make matters worse. M. Galpin will be none the less +our bitter enemy." + +Grandpapa Chandore started. He said,-- + +"But"-- + +"Oh! I do not blame him," broke in the young lawyer; "but I blame the +laws which make him act as he does. How can a magistrate remain +perfectly impartial in certain very important cases, like this one, +when his whole future career depends upon his success? A man may be a +most upright magistrate, incapable of unfairness, and conscientious in +fulfilling all his duties, and yet he is but a man. He has his +interest at stake. He does not like the court to find that that there +is no case. The great rewards are not always given to the lawyer who +has taken most pains to find out the truth." + +"But M. Galpin was a friend of ours, sir." + +"Yes; and that is what makes me fear. What will be his fate on the day +when M. Jacques's innocence is established?" + +They were just coming home, quite proud of their achievement, and +waving in triumph the copy of Jacques's letter. Dionysia seized upon +it; and, while she read it aside, Miss Adelaide described the +interview, stating how haughty and disdainful she had been, and how +humble and repentant M. Galpin had seemed to be. + +"He was completely undone," said the two old ladies with one voice: +"he was crushed, annihilated." + +"Yes, you have done a nice thing," growled the old baron; "and you +have much reason to boast, forsooth." + +"My aunts have done well," declared Dionysia. "Just see what Jacques +has written! It is clear and precise. What can we fear when he says, +'Be reassured: when the time comes, I shall be able to set matters +right'?" + +M. Folgat took the letter, read it, and shook his head. Then he +said,-- + +"There was no need of this letter to confirm my opinion. At the bottom +of this affair there is a secret which none of us have found out yet. +But M. de Boiscoran acts very rashly in playing in this way with a +criminal prosecution. Why did he not explain at once? What was easy +yesterday may be less easy to-morrow, and perhaps impossible in a +week." + +"Jacques, sir, is a superior man," cried Dionysia, "and whatever he +says is perfectly sure to be the right thing." + +His mother's entrance prevented the young lawyer from making any +reply. Two hours' rest had restored to the old lady a part of her +energy, and her usual presence of mind; and she now asked that a +telegram should be sent to her husband. + +"It is the least we can do," said M. de Chandore in an undertone, +"although it will be useless, I dare say. Boiscoran does not care that +much for his son. Pshaw! Ah! if it was a rare /faience/, or a plate +that is wanting in his collection, then would it be a very different +story." + +Still the despatch was drawn up and sent, at the very moment when a +servant came in, and announced that dinner was ready. The meal was +less sad than they had anticipated. Everybody, to be sure, felt a +heaviness at heart as he thought that at the same hour a jailer +probably brought Jacques his meal to his cell; nor could Dionysia keep +from dropping a tear when she saw M. Folgat sitting in her lover's +place. But no one, except the young advocate, thought that Jacques was +in real danger. + +M. Seneschal, however, who came in just as coffee was handed round, +evidently shared M. Folgat's apprehensions. The good mayor came to +hear the news, and to tell his friends how he had spent the day. The +funeral of the firemen had passed off quietly, although amid deep +emotion. No disturbance had taken place, as was feared; and Dr. +Seignebos had not spoken at the graveyard. Both a disturbance and a +row would have been badly received, said M. Seneschal; for he was +sorry to say, the immense majority of the people of Sauveterre did not +doubt M. de Boiscoran's guilt. In several groups he had heard people +say, "And still you will see they will not condemn him. A poor devil +who should commit such a horrible crime would be hanged sure enough; +but the son of the Marquis de Boiscoran--you will see, he'll come out +of it as white as snow." + +The rolling of a carriage, which stopped at the door, fortunately +interrupted him at this point. + +"Who can that be?" asked Dionysia, half frightened. + +They heard in the passage the noise of steps and voices, something +like a scuffle; and almost instantly the tenant's son Michael pushed +open the door of the sitting-room, crying out,-- + +"I have gotten him! Here he is!" + +And with these words he pushed in Cocoleu, all struggling, and looking +around him, like a wild beast caught in a trap. + +"Upon my word, my good fellow," said M. Seneschal, "you have done +better than the gendarmes!" + +The manner in which Michael winked with his eye showed that he had not +a very exalted opinion of the cleverness of the gendarmes. + +"I promised the baron," he said, "I would get hold of Cocoleu somehow +or other. I knew that at certain times he went and buried himself, +like the wild beast that he is, in a hole which he has scratched under +a rock in the densest part of the forest of Rochepommier. I had +discovered this den of his one day by accident; for a man might pass +by a hundred times, and never dream of where it was. But, as soon as +the baron told me that the innocent had disappeared, I said to myself, +'I am sure he is in his hole: let us go and see.' So I gathered up my +legs; I ran down to the rocks: and there was Cocoleu. But it was not +so easy to pull him out of his den. He would not come; and, while +defending himself, he bit me in the hand, like the mad dog that he +is." + +And Michael held up his left hand, wrapped up in a bloody piece of +linen. + +"It was pretty hard work to get the madman here. I was compelled to +tie him hand and foot, and to carry him bodily to my father's house. +There we put him into the little carriage, and here he is. Just look +at the pretty fellow!" + +He was hideous at that moment, with his livid face spotted all over +with red marks, his hanging lips covered with white foam, and his +brutish glances. + +"Why would you not come?" asked M. Seneschal. + +The idiot looked as if he did not hear. + +"Why did you bit Michael?" continued the mayor. + +Cocoleu made no reply. + +"Do you know that M. de Boiscoran is in prison because of what you +have said?" + +Still no reply. + +"Ah!" said Michael, "it is of no use to question him. You might beat +him till to-morrow, and he would rather give up the ghost than say a +word." + +"I am--I am hungry," stammered Cocoleu. + +M. Folgat looked indignant. + +"And to think," he said, "that, upon the testimony of such a thing, a +capital charge has been made!" + +Grandpapa Chandore seemed to be seriously embarrassed. He said,-- + +"But now, what in the world are we to do with the idiot?" + +"I am going to take him," said M. Seneschal, "to the hospital. I will +go with him myself, and let Dr. Seignebos know, and the commonwealth +attorney." + +Dr. Seignebos was an eccentric man, beyond doubt; and the absurd +stories which his enemies attributed to him were not all unfounded. +But he had, at all events, the rare quality of professing for his art, +as he called it, a respect very nearly akin to enthusiasm. According +to his views, the faculty were infallible, as much so as the pope, +whom he denied. He would, to be sure, in confidence, admit that some +of his colleagues were amazing donkeys; but he would never have +allowed any one else to say so in his presence. From the moment that a +man possessed the famous diploma which gives him the right over life +and death, that man became in his eyes an august personage for the +world at large. It was a crime, he thought, not to submit blindly to +the decision of a physician. Hence his obstinacy in opposing M. +Galpin, hence the bitterness of his contradictions, and the rudeness +with which he had requested the "gentlemen of the law" to leave the +room in which /his/ patient was lying. + +"For these devils," he said, "would kill one man in order to get the +means of cutting off another man's head." + +And thereupon, resuming his probes and his sponge, he had gone to work +once more, with the aid of the countess, digging out grain by grain +the lead which had honeycombed the flesh of the count. At nine o'clock +the work was done. + +"Not that I fancy I have gotten them all out," he said modestly, "but, +if there is any thing left, it is out of reach, and I shall have to +wait for certain symptoms which will tell me where they are." + +As he had foreseen, the count had grown rather worse. His first +excitement had given way to perfect prostration; and he seemed to be +insensible to what was going on around him. Fever began to show +itself; and, considering the count's constitution, it was easily to be +foreseen that delirium would set in before the day was out. + +"Nevertheless, I think there is hardly any danger," said the doctor to +the countess, after having pointed out to her all the probable +symptoms, so as to keep her from being alarmed. Then he recommended to +her to let no one approach her husband's bed, and M. Galpin least of +all. + +This recommendation was not useless; for almost at the same moment a +peasant came in to say that there was a man from Sauveterre at the +door who wished to see the count. + +"Show him in," said the doctor; "I'll speak to him." + +It was a man called Tetard, a former constable, who had given up his +place, and become a dealer in stones. But besides being a former +officer of justice and a merchant, as his cards told the world, he was +also the agent of a fire insurance company. It was in this capacity +that he presumed, as he told the countess, to present himself in +person. He had been informed that the farm buildings at Valpinson, +which were insured in his company, had been destroyed by fire; that +they had been purposely set on fire by M. de Boiscoran; and that he +wished to confer with Count Claudieuse on the subject. Far from him, +he added, to decline the responsibility of his company: he only wished +to establish the facts which would enable him to fall back upon M. de +Boiscoran, who was a man of fortune, and would certainly be condemned +to make compensation for the injury done. For this purpose, certain +formalities had to be attended to; and he had come to arrange with +Count Claudieuse the necessary measures." + +"And I," said Dr. Seignebos,--"I request you to take to your heels." +He added with a thundering voice,-- + +"I think you are very bold to dare to speak in that way of M. de +Boiscoran." + +M. Tetard disappeared without saying another word; and the doctor, +very much excited by this scene, turned to the youngest daughter of +the countess, the one with whom she was sitting up when the fire broke +out, and who was now decidedly better: after that nothing could keep +him at Valpinson. He carefully pocketed the pieces of lead which he +had taken from the count's wounds, and then, drawing the countess out +to the door, he said,-- + +"Before I go away, madam, I should like to know what you think of +these events." + +The poor lady, who looked as pale as death itself, could hardly hold +up any longer. There seemed to be nothing alive in her but her eyes, +which were lighted up with unusual brilliancy. + +"Ah! I do not know, sir," she replied in a feeble voice. "How can I +collect my thoughts after such terrible shocks?" + +"Still you questioned Cocoleu." + +"Who would not have done so, when the truth was at stake?" + +"And you were not surprised at the name he mentioned?" + +"You must have seen, sir." + +"I saw; and that is exactly why I ask you, and why I want to know what +you really think of the state of mind of the poor creature." + +"Don't you know that he is idiotic?" + +"I know; and that is why I was so surprised to see you insist upon +making him talk. Do you really think, that, in spite of his habitual +imbecility, he may have glimpses of sense?" + +"He had, a few moments before, saved my children from death." + +"That proves his devotion for you." + +"He is very much attached to me indeed, just like a poor animal that I +might have picked up and cared for." + +"Perhaps so. And still he showed more than mere animal instinct." + +"That may well be so. I have more than once noticed flashes of +intelligence in Cocoleu." + +The doctor had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them +furiously. + +"It is a great pity that one of these flashes of intelligence did not +enlighten him when he saw M. de Boiscoran make a fire and get ready to +murder Count Claudieuse." + +The countess leaned against the door-posts, as if about to faint. + +"But it is exactly to his excitement at the sight of the flames, and +at hearing the shots fired, that I ascribe Cocoleu's return to +reason." + +"May be," said the doctor, "may be." + +Then putting on his spectacles again, he added,-- + +"That is a question to be decided by the professional men who will +have to examine the poor imbecile creature." + +"What! Is he going to be examined?" + +"Yes, and very thoroughly, madam, I tell you. And now I have the honor +of wishing you good-bye. However, I shall come back to-night, unless +you should succeed during the day in finding lodgings in Sauveterre,-- +an arrangement which would be very desirable for myself, in the first +place, and not less so for your husband and your daughter. They are +not comfortable in this cottage." + +Thereupon he lifted his hat, returned to town, and immediately asked +M. Seneschal in the most imperious manner to have Cocoleu arrested. +Unfortunately the gendarmes had been unsuccessful; and Dr. Seignebos, +who saw how unfortunate all this was for Jacques, began to get +terribly impatient, when on Saturday night, towards ten o'clock, M. +Seneschal came in, and said,-- + +"Cocoleu is found." + +The doctor jumped up, and in a moment his hat on his head, and stick +in hand, asked,-- + +"Where is he?" + +"At the hospital. I have seen him myself put into a separate room." + +"I am going there." + +"What, at this hour?" + +"Am I not one of the hospital physicians? And is it not open to me by +night and by day?" + +"The sisters will be in bed." + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders furiously; then he said,-- + +"To be sure, it would be a sacrilege to break the slumbers of these +good sisters, these dear sisters, as you say. Ah, my dear mayor! When +shall we have laymen for our hospitals? And when will you put good +stout nurses in the place of these holy damsels?" + +M. Seneschal had too often discussed that subject with the doctor, to +open it anew. He kept silent, and that was wise; for Dr. Seignebos sat +down, saying,-- + +"Well, I must wait till to-morrow." + + + + VI. + +"The hospital in Sauveterre," says the guide book, "is, in spite of +its limited size, one of the best institutions of the kind in the +department. The chapel and the new additions were built at the expense +of the Countess de Maupaison, the widow of one of the ministers of +Louis Philippe." + +But what the guide book does not say is, that the hospital was endowed +with three free beds for pregnant women, by Mrs. Seneschal, or that +the two wings on both sides of the great entrance-gate have also been +built by her liberality. One of these wings, the one on the right, is +used by the janitor, a fine-looking old man, who formerly was beadle +at the cathedral, and who loves to think of the happy days when he +added to the splendor of the church by his magnificent presence, his +red uniform, his gold bandelaire, his halbert, and his gold-headed +cane. + +This janitor was, on Sunday morning, a little before eight o'clock, +smoking his pipe in the yard, when he saw Dr. Seignebos coming in. The +doctor was walking faster than usual, his hat over his face, and his +hands thrust deep into his pockets, evident signs of a storm. Instead +of coming, as he did every day before making the rounds, into the +office of the sister-druggist, he went straight up to the room of the +lady superior. There, after the usual salutations, he said,-- + +"They have no doubt brought you, my sister, last night, a patient, an +idiot, called Cocoleu?" + +"Yes, doctor." + +"Where has he been put?" + +"The mayor saw him himself put into the little room opposite the linen +room." + +"And how did he behave?" + +"Perfectly well: the sister who kept the watch did not hear him stir." + +"Thanks, my sister!" said Dr. Seignebos. + +He was already in the door, when the lady superior recalled him. + +"Are you going to see the poor man, doctor?" she asked. + +"Yes, my sister; why?" + +"Because you cannot see him." + +"I cannot?" + +"No. The commonwealth attorney has sent us orders not to let any one, +except the sister who nurses him, come near Cocoleu,--no one, doctor, +not even the physician, a case of urgency, of course, excepted." + +Dr. Seignebos smiled ironically. Then he said, laughing scornfully,-- + +"Ah, these are your orders, are they? Well, I tell you that I do not +mind them in the least. Who can prevent me from seeing my patient? +Tell me that! Let the commonwealth attorney give his orders in his +court-house as much as he chooses: that is all right. But in my +hospital! My sister, I am going to Cocoleu's room." + +"Doctor, you cannot go there. There is a gendarme at the door." + +"A gendarme?" + +"Yes, he came this morning with the strictest orders." + +For a moment the doctor was overcome. Then he suddenly broke out with +unusual violence, and a voice that made the windows shake,-- + +"This is unheard of! This is an abominable abuse of power! I'll have +my rights, and justice shall be done me, if I have to go to Thiers!" + +Then he rushed out without ceremony, crossed the yard, and disappeared +like an arrow, in the direction of the court-house. At that very +moment M. Daubigeon was getting up, feeling badly because he had had a +bad, sleepless night, thanks to this unfortunate affair of M. de +Boiscoran, which troubled him sorely; for he was almost of M. Galpin's +opinion. In vain he recalled Jacques's noble character, his well-known +uprightness, his keen sense of honor, the evidence was so strong, so +overwhelming! He wanted to doubt; but experience told him that a man's +past is no guarantee for his future. And, besides, like many great +criminal lawyers, he thought, what he would never have ventured to say +openly, that some great criminals act while they are under the +influence of a kind of vertigo, and that this explains the stupidity +of certain crimes committed by men of superior intelligence. + +Since his return from Boiscoran, he had kept close in his house; and +he had just made up his mind not to leave the house that day, when +some one rang his bell furiously. A moment later Dr. Seignebos fell +into the room like a bombshell. + +"I know what brings you, doctor," said M. Daubigeon. "You come about +that order I have given concerning Cocoleu." + +"Yes, indeed, sir! That order is an insult." + +"I have been asked to give it as a matter of necessity, by M. Galpin." + +"And why did you not refuse? You alone are responsible for it in my +eyes. You are commonwealth attorney, consequently the head of the bar, +and superior to M. Galpin." + +M. Daubigeon shook his head and said,-- + +"There you are mistaken, doctor. The magistrate in such a case is +independent of myself and of the court. He is not even bound to obey +the attorney-general, who can make suggestions to him, but cannot give +him orders. M. Galpin, in his capacity as examining magistrate, has +his independent jurisdiction, and is armed with almost unlimited +power. No one in the world can say so well as an examining magistrate +what the poet calls,-- + + 'Such is my will, such are my orders, and my will is sufficient.' + 'Hoc volo, hoc jubeo, sit pro ratione voluntas.' " + +For once Dr. Seignebos seemed to be convinced by M. Daubigeon's words. +He said,-- + +"Then, M. Galpin has even the right to deprive a sick man of his +physician's assistance." + +"If he assumes the responsibility, yes. But he does not mean to go so +far. He was, on the contrary, about to ask you, although it is Sunday, +to come and be present at a second examination of Cocoleu. I am +surprised that you have not received his note, and that you did not +meet him at the hospital." + +"Well, I am going at once." + +And he went back hurriedly, and was glad he had done so; for at the +door of the hospital he came face to face against M. Galpin, who was +just coming in, accompanied by his faithful clerk, Mechinet. + +"You came just in time, doctor," began the magistrate, with his usual +solemnity. + +But, short and rapid as the doctor's walk had been, it had given him +time to reflect, and to grow cool. Instead of breaking out into +recriminations, he replied in a tone of mock politeness,-- + +"Yes, I know. It is that poor devil to whom you have given a gendarme +for a nurse. Let us go up: I am at your service." + +The room in which Cocoleu had been put was large, whitewashed, and +empty, except that a bed, a table and two chairs, stood about. The bed +was no doubt a good one; but the idiot had taken off the mattress and +the blankets, and lain down in his clothes on the straw bed. Thus the +magistrate and the physician found him as they entered. He rose at +their appearance; but, when he saw the gendarme, he uttered a cry, and +tried to hide under the bed. M. Galpin ordered the gendarme to pull +him out again. Then he walked up to him, and said,-- + +"Don't be afraid, Cocoleu. We want to do you no harm; only you must +answer our questions. Do you recollect what happened the other night +at Valpinson?" + +Cocoleu laughed,--the laugh of an idiot,--but he made no reply. And +then, for a whole hour, begging, threatening, and promising by turns, +the magistrate tried in vain to obtain one word from him. Not even the +name of the Countess Claudieuse had the slightest effect. At last, +utterly out of patience, he said,-- + +"Let us go. The wretch is worse than a brute." + +"Was he any better," asked the doctor, "when he denounced M. de +Boiscoran?" + +But the magistrate pretended not to hear; and, when they were about to +leave the room, he said to the doctor,-- + +"You know that I expect your report, doctor?" + +"In forty-eight hours I shall have the honor to hand it to you," +replied the latter. + +But as he went off, he said half aloud,-- + +"And that report is going to give you some trouble, my good man." + +The report was ready then, and his reason for not giving it in, was +that he thought, the longer he could delay it, the more chance he +would probably have to defeat the plan of the prosecution. + +"As I mean to keep it two days longer," he thought on his way home, +"why should I not show it to this Paris lawyer who has dome down with +the marchioness? Nothing can prevent me, as far as I see, since that +poor Galpin, in his utter confusion, has forgotten to put me under +oath." + +But he paused. According to the laws of medical jurisprudence, had he +the right, or not, to communicate a paper belonging to the case to the +counsel of the accused? This question troubled him; for, although he +boasted that he did not believe in God, he believed firmly in +professional duty, and would have allowed himself to be cut in pieces +rather than break its laws. + +"But I have clearly the right to do so," he growled. "I can only be +bound by my oath. The authorities are clear on that subject. I have in +my favor the decisions of the Court of Appeals of 27 November, and 27 +December, 1828; those of the 13th June, 1835; of the 3d May, 1844; of +the 26th June, 1866." + +The result of this mediation was, that, as soon as he had breakfasted, +he put his report in his pocket, and went by side streets to M. de +Chandore's house. The marchioness and the two aunts were still at +church, where they had thought it best to show themselves; and there +was no one in the sitting-room but Dionysia, the old baron, and M. +Folgat. The old gentleman was very much surprised to see the doctor. +The latter was his family physician, it is true; but, except in cases +of sickness, the two never saw each other, their political opinions +were so very different. + +"If you see me here," said the physician, still in the door, "it is +simply because, upon my honor and my conscience, I believe M. +Boiscoran is innocent." + +Dionysia would have liked to embrace the doctor for these words of +his; and with the greatest eagerness she pushed a large easy-chair +towards him, and said in her sweetest voice,-- + +"Pray sit down, my dear doctor." + +"Thanks," he answered bruskly. "I am very much obliged to you." Then +turning to M. Folgat, he said, according to his odd notion,-- + +"I am convinced that M. Boiscoran is the victim of his republican +opinions which he has so boldly professed; for, baron, your future +son-in-law is a republican." + +Grandpapa Chandore did not move. If they had come and told him Jacques +had been a member of the Commune, he would not have been any more +moved. Dionysia loved Jacques. That was enough for him. + +"Well," the doctor went on, "I am a Radical, I, M."-- + +"Folgat," supplied the young lawyer. + +"Yes, M. Folgat, I am a Radical; and it is my duty to defend a man +whose political opinions so closely resemble mine. I come, therefore, +to show you my medical report, if you can make any use of it in your +defence of M. Boiscoran, or suggest to me any ideas." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the young man. "That is a very valuable service." + +"But let us understand each other," said the physician earnestly. "If +I speak of listening to your suggestions, I take it for granted that +they are based upon facts. If I had a son, and he was to die on the +scaffold I would not use the slightest falsehood to save him." + +He had, meanwhile, drawn the report from a pocket in his long coat, +and now put in on the table with these words,-- + +"I shall call for it again to-morrow morning. In the meantime you can +think it over. I should like, however, to point out to you the main +point, the culminating point, if I may say so." + +At all events he was "saying so" with much hesitation, and looking +fixedly at Dionysia as if to make her understand that he would like +her to leave the room. Seeing that she did not take the hint, he +added,-- + +"A medical and legal discussion would hardly interest the young lady." + +"Why, sir, why, should I not be deeply, passionately, interested in +any thing that regards the man who is to be my husband?" + +"Because ladies are generally very sensational," said the doctor +uncivilly, "very sensitive." + +"Don't think so, doctor. For Jacques's sake, I promise you I will show +you quite masculine energy." + +The doctor knew Dionysia well enough to see that she did not mean to +go: so he growled,-- + +"As you like it." + +Then, turning again to M. Folgat, he said,-- + +"You know there were two shots fired at Count Claudieuse. One, which +hit him in the side, nearly missed him; the other, which struck his +shoulder and his neck, hit well." + +"I know," said the advocate. + +"The difference in the effect shows that the two shots were fired from +different distances, the second much nearer than the first." + +"I know, I know!" + +"Excuse me. If I refer to these details, it is because they are +important. When I was sent for in the middle of the night to come and +see Count Claudieuse, I at once set to work extracting the particles +of lead that had lodged in his flesh. While I was thus busy, M. Galpin +arrived. I expected he would ask me to show him the shot: but no, he +did not think of it; he was too full of his own ideas. He thought only +of the culprit, of /his/ culprit. I did not recall to him the A B C of +his profession: that was none of my business. The physician has to +obey the directions of justice, but not to anticipate them." + +"Well, then?" + +"Then M. Galpin went off to Boiscoran, and I completed my work. I have +extracted fifty-seven shot from the count's wound in the side, and a +hundred and nine from the wound on the shoulder and the neck; and, +when I had done that, do you know what I found out?" + +He paused, waiting to see the effect of his words; and, when +everybody's attention seemed to him fully roused, he went on,-- + +"I found out that the shot in the two wounds was not alike." + +M. de Chandore and M. Folgat exclaimed at one time,-- + +"Oh!" + +"The shot that was first fired," continued Dr. Seignebos, "and which +has touched the side, is the very smallest sized 'dust.' That in the +shoulder, on the other hand, is quite large sized, such as I think is +used in shooting hares. However, I have some samples." + +And with these words, he opened a piece of white paper, in which were +ten or twelve pieces of lead, stained with coagulated blood, and +showing at once a considerable difference in size. M. Folgat looked +puzzled. + +"Could there have been two murderers?" he asked half aloud. + +"I rather think," said M. de Chandore, "that the murderer had, like +many sportsmen, one barrel ready for birds, and another for hares or +rabbits." + +"At all events, this fact puts all premeditation out of question. A +man does not load his gun with small-shot in order to commit murder." + +Dr. Seignebos thought he had said enough about it, and was rising to +take leave, when M. de Chandore asked him how Count Claudieuse was +doing. + +"He is not doing well," replied the doctor. "The removal, in spite of +all possible precautions, has worn him out completely; for he is here +in Sauveterre since yesterday, in a house which M. Seneschal has +rented for him provisionally. He has been delirious all night through; +and, when I came to see him this morning, I do not think he knew me." + +"And the countess?" asked Dionysia. + +"The countess, madam, is quite as sick as her husband, and, if she had +listened to me, she would have gone to bed, too. But she is a woman of +uncommon energy, who derives from her affection for her husband an +almost incomprehensible power of resistance. As to Cocoleu," he added, +standing already near the door, "an examination of his mental +condition might produce results which no one seems to expect now. But +we will talk of that hereafter. And now, I must bid you all good-by." + +"Well?" asked Dionysia and M. de Chandore, as soon as they had heard +the street door close behind Dr. Seignebos. + +But M. Folgat's enthusiasm had cooled off very rapidly. + +"Before giving an opinion," he said cautiously, "I must study the +report of this estimable doctor." + +Unfortunately, the report contained nothing that the doctor had not +mentioned. In vain did the young advocate try all the afternoon to +find something in it that might be useful for the defence. There were +arguments in it, to be sure, which might be very valuable when the +trial should come on, but nothing that could be used to make the +prosecution give up the case. + +The whole house was, therefore, cruelly disappointed and dejected, +when, about five o'clock, old Anthony came in from Boiscoran. He +looked very sad, and said,-- + +"I have been relieved of my duties. At two o'clock M. Galpin came to +take off the seals. He was accompanied by his clerk Mechinet, and +brought Master Jacques with him, who was guarded by two gendarmes in +citizen's clothes. When the room was opened, that unlucky man Galpin +asked Master Jacques if those were the clothes which he wore the night +of the fire, his boots, his gun, and the water in which he washed his +hands. When he had acknowledged every thing, the water was carefully +poured into a bottle, which they sealed, and handed to one of the +gendarmes. Then they put master's clothes in a large trunk, his gun, +several parcels of cartridge, and some other articles, which the +magistrate said were needed for the trial. That trunk was sealed like +the bottle, and put on the carriage; then that man Galpin went off, +and told me that I was free." + +"And Jacques," Dionysia asked eagerly,--"how did he look?" + +"Master, madam, laughed contemptuously." + +"Did you speak to him?" asked M. Folgat. + +"Oh, no, sir! M. Galpin would not allow me." + +"And did you have time to look at the gun?" + +"I could but just glance at the lock." + +"And what did you see?" + +The brow of the old servant grew still darker, as he replied sadly,-- + +"I saw that I had done well to keep silent. The lock is black. Master +must have used his gun since I cleaned it." + +Grandpapa Chandore and M. Folgat exchanged looks of distress. One more +hope was lost. + +"Now," said the young lawyer, "tell me how M. de Boiscoran usually +charged his gun." + +"He used cartridges, sir, of course. They sent him, I think, two +thousand with the gun,--some for balls, some with large shot, and +others with shot of every size. At this season, when hunting is +prohibited, master could shoot nothing but rabbits, or those little +birds, you know, which come to our marshes: so he always loaded one +barrel with tolerably large shot, and the other with small-shot." + +But he stopped suddenly, shocked at the impression which his statement +seemed to produce. Dionysia cried,-- + +"That is terrible! Every thing is against us!" + +M. Folgat did not give her time to say any more. He asked,-- + +"My dear Anthony, did M. Galpin take all of your master's cartridges +away with him?" + +"Oh, no! certainly not." + +"Well, you must instantly go back to Boiscoran, and bring me three or +four cartridges of every number of shot." + +"All right," said the old man. "I'll be back in a short time." + +He started immediately; and, thanks to his great promptness, he +reappeared at seven o'clock, at the moment when the family got up from +dinner, and put a large package of cartridges on the table. + +M. de Chandore and M. Folgat had quickly opened some of them; and, +after a few failures, they found two numbers of shot which seemed to +correspond exactly to the samples left them by the doctor. + +"There is an incomprehensible fatality in all this," said the old +gentleman in an undertone. + +The young lawyer, also, looked discouraged. + +"It is madness," he said, "to try to establish M. de Boiscoran's +innocence without having first communicated with him." + +"And if you could do so to-morrow?" asked Dionysia. + +"Then, madam, he might give us the key to this mystery, which we are +in vain trying to solve; or, at least, he might tell us the way to +find it all out. But that is not to be thought of. M. de Boiscoran is +held in close confinement, and you may rest assured M. Galpin will see +to it that no communication is held with his prisoner." + +"Who knows?" said the young girl. + +And immediately she drew M. de Chandore aside into one of the little +card-rooms adjoining the parlor, and asked him,-- + +"Grandpapa, am I rich?" + +Never in her life had she thought of that, and she was to a certain +extent utterly ignorant of the value of money. + +"Yes, you are rich, my child," replied the old gentleman. + +"How much do I have?" + +"You have in your own right, as coming to you from your poor father +and from your mother, twenty-five thousand francs a year, or a capital +of about five hundred and fifty thousand francs." + +"And is that a good deal?" + +"It is so much, that you are one of the richest heiresses of the +district; but you have, besides, considerable expectations." + +Dionysia was so preoccupied, that she did not even protest. She went +on asking,-- + +"What do they call here to be well off?" + +"That depends, my child. If you will tell me"-- + +She interrupted him, putting down her foot impatiently, saying,-- + +"Nothing. Please answer me!" + +"Well, in our little town, an income of eight hundred or a thousand +francs makes anybody very well off." + +"Let us say a thousand." + +"Well, a thousand would make a man very comfortable." + +"And what capital would produce such an income?" + +"At five per cent, it would take twenty thousand francs." + +"That is to say, about the income of a year." + +"Exactly." + +"Never mind. I presume that is quite a large sum, and it would be +rather difficult for you, grandpapa, to get it together by to-morrow +morning?" + +"Not at all. I have that much in railway coupon-bonds; and they are +just as good as current money." + +"Ah! Do you mean to say, that, if I gave anybody twenty thousand +francs in such bonds, it would be just the same to him as if I gave +him twenty thousand francs in bank-notes?" + +"Just so." + +Dionysia smiled. She thought she saw light. Then she went on,-- + +"If that is so, I must beg you, grandpapa, to give me twenty thousand +francs in coupon-bonds." + +The old gentleman started. + +"You are joking," he said. "What do you want with so much money? You +are surely joking." + +"Not at all. I have never in my life been more serious," replied the +young girl in a tone of voice which could not be mistaken. "I beseech +you, grandpapa, if you love me, give me these twenty thousand francs +this evening, right now. You hesitate? O God! You may kill me if you +refuse." + +No, M. de Chandore was hesitating no longer. + +"Since you will have it so," he said, "I am going up stairs to get +it." + +She clapped her hands with joy. + +"That's it," she said. "Make haste and dress; for I have to go out, +and you must go with me." + +Then going up to her aunts and the marchioness, she said to them,-- + +"I hope you will excuse me, if I leave you; but I must go out." + +"At this hour?" cried Aunt Elizabeth. "Where are you going?" + +"To my dressmakers, the Misses Mechinet. I want a dress." + +"Great God!" cried Aunt Adelaide, "the child is losing her mind!" + +"I assure you I am not, aunt." + +"Then let me go with you." + +"Thank you, no. I shall go alone; that is to say, alone with dear +grandpapa." + +And as M. de Chandore came back, his pockets full of bonds, his hat on +his head, and his cane in his hand, she carried him off, saying,-- + +"Come, quick, dear grandpapa, we are in a great hurry." + + + + VII. + +Although M. de Chandore was literally worshipping his grandchild on +his knees, and had transferred all his hopes and his affections to her +who alone survived of his large family, he had still had his thoughts +when he went up stairs to take from his money-box so large a sum of +money. As soon, therefore, as they were outside of the house, he +said,-- + +"Now that we are alone, my dear child, will you tell me what you mean +to do with all this money?" + +"That is my secret," she replied. + +"And you have not confidence enough in your old grandfather to tell +him what it is, darling?" + +He stopped a moment; but she drew him on, saying,-- + +"You shall know it all, and in less than an hour. But, oh! You must +not be angry, grandpapa. I have a plan, which is no doubt very +foolish. If I told you, I am afraid you would stop me; and if you +succeeded, and then something happened to Jacques, I should not +survive the misery. And think of it, what you would feel, if you were +to think afterwards, 'If I had only let her have her way!' " + +"Dionysia, you are cruel!" + +"On the other hand, if you did not induce me to give up my project, +you would certainly take away all my courage; and I need it all, I +tell you, grandpapa, for what I am going to risk." + +"You see, my dear child, and you must pardon me for repeating it once +more, twenty thousand francs are a big sum of money; and there are +many excellent and clever people who work hard, and deny themselves +every thing, a whole life long, without laying up that much." + +"Ah, so much the better!" cried the young girl. "So much the better. I +do hope there will be enough so as to meet with no refusal!" + +Grandpapa Chandore began to comprehend. + +"After all," he said, "you have not told me where we are going." + +"To my dressmakers." + +"To the Misses Mechinet?" + +"Yes." + +M. de Chandore was sure now. + +"We shall not find them at home," he said. "This is Sunday; and they +are no doubt at church." + +"We shall find them, grandpapa; for they always take tea at half-past +seven, for their brother's, the clerk's sake. But we must make haste." + +The old gentleman did make haste; but it is a long way from the New- +Market Place to Hill Street; for the sisters Mechinet lived on the +Square, and, if you please, in a house of their own,--a house which +was to be the delight of their days, and which had become the trouble +of their nights. + +They bought the house the year before the war, upon their brother's +advice, and going halves with him, paying a sum of forty-seven +thousand francs, every thing included. It was a capital bargain; for +they rented out the basement and the first story to the first grocer +in Sauveterre. The sisters did not think they were imprudent in paying +down ten thousand francs in cash, and in binding themselves to pay the +rest in three yearly instalments. The first year all went well; but +then came the war and numerous disasters. The income of the sisters +and of the brother was much reduced, and they had nothing to live upon +but his pay as clerk; so that they had to use the utmost economy, and +even contract some debts, in order to pay the second instalment. When +peace came, their income increased again, and no one doubted in +Sauveterre but that they would manage to get out of their +difficulties, as the brother was one of the hardest working men, and +the sisters were patronized by "the most distinguished" ladies of the +whole country. + +"Grandpapa, they are at home," said Dionysia, when they reached the +Square. + +"Do you think so?" + +"I am sure. I see light in their windows." + +M. de Chandore stopped. + +"What am I to do next?" he asked. + +"You are going to give me the bonds, grandpapa, and to wait for me +here, walking up and down, whilst I am going to the Misses Mechinet. I +would ask you to come up too; but they would be frightened at seeing +you. Moreover, if my enterprise does not succeed, it would not matter +much as long as it concerned only a little girl." + +The old gentleman's last doubts began to vanish. + +"You won't succeed, my poor girl," he said. + +"O God!" she replied, checking her tears with difficulty, "why will +you discourage me?" + +He said nothing. Suppressing a sigh, he pulled the papers out of his +pockets, and helped Dionysia to stuff them, as well as she could, into +her pocket and a little bag she had in her hand. When she had done, +she said,-- + +"Well, good-bye, grandpapa. I won't be long." + +And lightly, like a bird, she crossed the street, and ran up to her +dressmakers. The old ladies and their brother were just finishing +their supper, which consisted of a small piece of port and a light +salad, with an abundance of vinegar. At the unexpected entrance of +Miss Chandore they all started up. + +"You, miss," cried the elder of the two,--"you!" + +Dionysia understood perfectly well what that simple "you" meant. It +meant, with the help of the tone of voice, "What? your betrothed is +charged with an abominable crime; there is overwhelming evidence +against him; he is in jail, in close confinement; everybody knows he +will be tried at the assizes, and he will be condemned--and you are +here?" + +But Dionysia kept on smiling, as she had entered. + +"Yes," she replied, "it is I. I must have two dresses for next week; +and I come to ask you to show me some samples." + +The Misses Mechinet, always acting upon their brother's advice, had +made an arrangement with a large house in Bordeaux, by which they +received samples of all their goods, and were allowed a discount on +whatever they sold. + +"I will do so with pleasure," said the older sister. "Just allow me to +light a lamp. It is almost dark." + +While she was wiping the chimney, and trimming the wick, she asked her +brother,-- + +"Are you not going to the Orpheon?" + +"Not to-night," he replied. + +"Are you not expected to be there?" + +"No: I sent them word I would not come. I have to lithograph two +plates for the printer, and some very urgent copying to do for the +court." + +While he was thus replying, he had folded up his napkin, and lighted a +candle. + +"Good-night!" he said to his sisters. "I won't see you again +to-night," and, bowing deeply to Miss Chandore, he went out, his +candle in his hand. + +"Where is your brother going?" Dionysia asked eagerly. + +"To his room, madam. His room is just opposite on the other side of +the staircase." + +Dionysia was as red as fire. Was she thus to let her opportunity slip, +--an opportunity such as she had never dared hope for? Gathering up +all her courage, she said,-- + +"But, now I think of it, I want to say a few words to your brother, my +dear ladies. Wait for me a moment. I shall be back in a moment." And +she rushed out, leaving the dressmakers stupefied, gazing after her +with open mouths, and asking themselves if the grand calamity had +bereft the poor lady of reason. + +The clerk was still on the landing, fumbling in his pocket for the key +of his room. + +"I want to speak to you instantly," said Dionysia. + +Mechinet was so utterly amazed, that he could not utter a word. He +made a movement as if he wanted to go back to his sisters; but the +young girl said,-- + +"No, in your room. We must not be overheard. Open sir, please. Open, +somebody might come." + +The fact is, he was so completely overcome, that it took him half a +minute to find the keyhole, and put the key in. At last, when the door +was opened, he moved aside to let Dionysia pass: but she said, "No, go +in!" + +He obeyed. She followed him, and, as soon as she was in the room, she +shut the door again, pushing even a bolt which she had noticed. +Mechinet the clerk was famous in Sauveterre for his coolness. Dionysia +was timidity personified, and blushed for the smallest trifle, +remaining speechless for some time. At this moment, however, it was +certainly not the young girl who was embarrassed. + +"Sit down, M. Mechinet," she said, "and listen to me." + +He put his candlestick on a table, and sat down. + +"You know me, don't you?" asked Dionysia. + +"Certainly I do, madam." + +"You have surely heard that I am to be married to M. de Boiscoran?" + +The clerk started up, as if he had been moved by a spring, beat his +forehead furiously with his hand, and said,-- + +"Ah, what a fool I was! Now I see." + +"Yes, you are right," replied the girl. "I come to talk to you abut M. +de Boiscoran, my betrothed, my husband." + +She paused; and for a minute Mechinet and the young girl remained +there face to face, silent and immovable, looking at each other, he +asking himself what she could want of him, and she trying to guess how +far she might venture. + +"You can no doubt imagine, M. Mechinet, what I have suffered, since M. +de Boiscoran has been sent to prison, charged with the meanest of all +crimes!" + +"Oh, surely, I do!" replied Mechinet. + +And, carried away by his emotion, he added,-- + +"But I can assure you, madam, that I, who have been present at all the +examinations, and who have no small experience in criminal matters,-- +that I believe M. de Boiscoran innocent. I know M. Galpin does not +think so, nor M. Daubigeon, nor any of the gentlemen of the bar, nor +the town; but, nevertheless, that is my conviction. You see, I was +there when they fell upon M. de Boiscoran, asleep in his bed. Well, +the very tone of his voice, as he cried out, 'Oh, my dear Galpin!' +told me that the man is not guilty." + +"Oh, sir," stammered Dionysia, "thanks, thanks!" + +"There is nothing to thank me for, madam; for time has only confirmed +my conviction. As if a guilty man ever bore himself as M. de Boiscoran +does! You ought to have seen him just now, when we had gone to remove +the seals, calm, dignified, answering coldly all the questions that +were asked. I could not help telling M. Galpin what I thought. He said +I was a fool. Well, I maintain, on the contrary, that he is. Ah! I beg +your pardon, I mean that he is mistaken. The more I see of M. de +Boiscoran, the more he gives me the impression that he has only a word +to say to clear up the whole matter." + +Dionysia listened to him with such absorbing interest, that she well- +nigh forgot why she had come. + +"Then," she asked, "you think M. de Boiscoran is not much overcome?" + +"I should lie if I said he did not look sad, madam," was the reply. +"But he is not overcome. After the first astonishment, his presence of +mind returned; and M. Galpin has in vain tried these three days by all +his ingenuity and his cleverness"-- + +Here he stopped suddenly, like a drunken man who recovers his +consciousness for a moment, and becomes aware that he has said too +much in his cups. He exclaimed,-- + +"Great God! what am I talking about? For Heaven's sake, madam, do not +let anybody hear what I was led by my respectful sympathy to tell you +just now." + +Dionysia felt that the decisive moment had come. She said,-- + +"If you knew me better, sir, you would know that you can rely upon my +discretion. You need not regret having given me by your confidence +some little comfort in my great sorrow. You need not; for"-- + +Her voice nearly failed her, and it was only with a great effort she +could add,-- + +"For I come to ask you to do even more than that for me, oh! yes, much +more." + +Mechinet had turned painfully pale. He broke in vehemently,-- + +"Not another word, madam: your hope already is an insult to me. You +ought surely to know that by my profession, as well as by my oath, I +am bound to be as silent as the very cell in which the prisoners are +kept. If I, the clerk, were to betray the secret of a criminal +prosecution"-- + +Dionysia trembled like an aspen-leaf; but her mind remained clear and +decided. She said,-- + +"You would rather let an innocent man perish." + +"Madam!" + +"You would let an innocent man be condemned, when by a single word you +could remove the mistake of which he is the victim? You would say to +yourself, 'It is unlucky; but I have sworn not to speak'? And you +would see him with quiet conscience mount the scaffold? No, I cannot +believe that! No, that cannot be true!" + +"I told you, madam, I believe in M. de Boiscoran's innocence." + +"And you refuse to aid me in establishing his innocence? O God! what +ideas men form of their duty! How can I move you? How can I convince +you? Must I remind you of the torture this man suffers, whom they +charge with being an assassin? Must I tell you what horrible anguish +we suffer, we, his friends, his relatives?--how his mother weeps, how +I weep, I, his betrothed! We know he is innocent; and yet we cannot +establish his innocence for want of a friend who would aid us, who +would pity us!" + +In all his life the clerk had not heard such burning words. He was +moved to the bottom of his heart. At last he asked, trembling,-- + +"What do you want me to do, madam?" + +"Oh! very little, sir, very little,--just to send M. de Boiscoran ten +lines, and to bring us his reply." + +The boldness of the request seemed to stun the clerk. He said,-- + +"Never!" + +"You will not have pity?" + +"I should forfeit my honor." + +"And, if you let an innocent one be condemned, what would that be?" + +Mechinet was evidently suffering anguish. Amazed, overcome, he did not +know what to say, what to do. At last he thought of one reason for +refusing, and stammered out,-- + +"And if I were found out? I should lose my place, ruin my sisters, +destroy my career for life." + +With trembling hands, Dionysia drew from her pocket the bonds which +her grandfather had given her, and threw them in a heap on the table. +She began,-- + +"There are twenty thousand francs." + +The clerk drew back frightened. He cried,-- + +"Money! You offer me money!" + +"Oh, don't be offended!" began the young girl again, with a voice that +would have moved a stone. "How could I want to offend you, when I ask +of you more than my life? There are services which can never be paid. +But, if the enemies of M. de Boiscoran should find out that you have +aided us, their rage might turn against you." + +Instinctively the clerk unloosed his cravat. The struggle within him, +no doubt, was terrible. He was stifled. + +"Twenty thousand francs!" he said in a hoarse voice. + +"Is it not enough?" asked the young girl. "Yes, you are right: it is +very little. But I have as much again for you, twice as much." + +With haggard eyes, Mechinet had approached the table, and was +convulsively handling the pile of papers, while he repeated,-- + +"Twenty thousand francs! A thousand a year!" + +"No, double that much, and moreover, our gratitude, our devoted +friendship, all the influence of the two families of Boiscoran and +Chandore; in a word, fortune, position, respect." + +But by this time, thanks to a supreme effort of will, the clerk had +recovered his self-control. + +"No more, madam, say no more!" + +And with a determined, though still trembling voice, he went on,-- + +"Take your money back again, madam. If I were to do what you want me +to do, if I were to betray my duty for money, I should be the meanest +of men. If, on the other hand, I am actuated only by a sincere +conviction and an interest in the truth, I may be looked upon as a +fool; but I shall always be worthy of the esteem of honorable men. +Take back that fortune, madam, which has made an honest man waver for +a moment in his conscience. I will do what you ask, but for nothing." + +If grandpapa was getting tired of walking up and down in the Square, +the sisters of Mechinet found time pass still more slowly in their +workroom. They asked each other,-- + +"What can Miss Dionysia have to say to brother?" + +At the end of ten minutes, their curiosity, stimulated by the most +absurd suppositions, had become such martyrdom to them, that they made +up their minds to knock at the clerk's door. + +"Ah, leave me alone!" he cried out, angry at being thus interrupted. +But then he considered a moment, opened hastily, and said quite +gently,-- + +"Go back to your room, my dear sisters, and, if you wish to spare me a +very serious embarrassment, never tell anybody in this world that Miss +Chandore has had a conversation with me." + +Trained to obey, the two sisters went back, but not so promptly that +they should have not seen the bonds which Dionysia had thrown upon the +table, and which were quite familiar in their appearance to them, as +they had once owned some of them themselves. Their burning desire to +know was thus combined with vague terror; and, when they got back to +their room, the younger asked,-- + +"Did you see?" + +"Yes, those bonds," replied the other. + +"There must have been five or six hundred." + +"Even more, perhaps." + +"That is to say, a very big sum of money." + +"An enormous one." + +"What can that mean, Holy Virgin! And what have we to expect?" + +"And brother asking us to keep his secret!" + +"He looked as pale as his shirt, and terribly distressed." + +"Miss Dionysia was crying like a Magdalen." + +It was so. Dionysia, as long as she had been uncertain of the result, +had felt in her heart that Jacques's safety depended on her courage +and her presence of mind. But now, assured of success, she could no +longer control her excitement; and, overcome by the effort, she had +sunk down on a chair and burst out into tears. + +The clerk shut the door, and looked at her for some time; then, having +overcome his own emotions, he said to her,-- + +"Madame." + +But, as she heard his voice, she jumped up, and taking his hands into +hers, she broke out,-- + +"O sir! How can I thank you! How can I ever make you aware of the +depth of my gratitude!" + +"Don't speak of that," he said almost rudely, trying to conceal his +deep feeling. + +"I will say nothing more," she replied very gently; "but I must tell +you that none of us will ever forget the debt of gratitude which we +owe you from this day. You say the great service which you are about +to render us is not free from danger. Whatever may happen, you must +remember, that, from this moment, you have in us devoted friends." + +The interruption caused by his sisters had had the good effect of +restoring to Mechinet a good portion of his habitual self-possession. +He said,-- + +"I hope no harm will come of it; and yet I cannot conceal from you, +madam, that the service which I am going to try to render you presents +more difficulties than I thought." + +"Great God!" murmured Dionysia. + +"M. Galpin," the clerk went on saying, "is, perhaps, not exactly a +superior man; but he understands his profession; he is cunning, and +exceedingly suspicious. Only yesterday he told me that he knew the +Boiscoran family would try every thing in the world to save M. de +Boiscoran from justice. Hence he is all the time on the watch, and +takes all kinds of precautions. If he dared to it, he would have his +bed put across his cell in the prison." + +"That man hates me, M. Mechinet!" + +"Oh, no, madam! But he is ambitious: he thinks his success in his +profession depends upon his success in this case; and he is afraid the +accused might escape or be carried off." + +Mechinet was evidently in great perplexity, and scratched his ear. +Then he added,-- + +"How am I to go about to let M. de Boiscoran have your note? If he +knew beforehand, it would be easy. But he is unprepared. And then he +is just as suspicious as M. Galpin. He is always afraid lest they +prepare him a trap; and he is on the lookout. If I make him a sign, I +fear he will not understand me; and, if I make him a sign, will not M. +Galpin see it? That man is lynx-eyed." + +"Are you never alone with M. de Boiscoran?" + +"Never for an instant, madam. I only go in with the magistrate, and I +come out with him. You will say, perhaps, that in leaving, as I am +behind, I might drop the note cleverly. But, when we leave, the jailer +is there, and he has good eyes. I should have to dread, besides, M. de +Boiscoran's own suspicions. If he saw a letter coming to him in that +way, from me, he is quite capable of handing it at once to M. Galpin." + +He paused, and after a moment's meditation he went on,-- + +"The safest way would probably be to win the confidence of M. Blangin, +the keeper of the jail, or of some prisoner, whose duty it is to wait +on M. de Boiscoran, and to watch him." + +"Trumence!" exclaimed Dionysia. + +The clerk's face expressed the most startled surprise. He said,-- + +"What! You know his name?" + +"Yes, I do; for Blangin mentioned him to me; and the name struck me +the day when M. de Boiscoran's mother and I went to the jail, not +knowing what was meant by 'close confinement.' " + +The clerk was disappointed. + +"Ah!" he said, "now I understand M. Galpin's great trouble. He has, no +doubt, heard of your visit, and imagined that you wanted to rob him of +his prisoner." + +He murmured some words, which Dionysia could not hear; and then, +coming to some decision, apparently, he said,-- + +"Well, never mind! I'll see what can be done. Write your letter, +madam: here are pens and ink." + +The young girl made no reply, but sat down at Mechinet's table; but, +at the moment when she was putting pen to paper she asked,-- + +"Has M. de Boiscoran any books in his prison?" + +"Yes, madam. At his request M. Galpin himself went and selected, in M. +Daubigeon's library, some books of travels and some of Cooper's novels +for him." + +Dionysia uttered a cry of delight. + +"O Jacques!" she said, "how glad I am you counted upon me!" and, +without noticing how utterly Mechinet seemed to be surprised, she +wrote,-- + + "We are sure of your innocence, Jacques, and still we are in + despair. Your mother is here, with a Paris lawyer, a M. Folgat, + who is devoted to your interests. What must we do? Give us your + instructions. You can reply without fear, as you have /our/ book. + + "DIONYSIA." + +"Read this," she said to the clerk, when she had finished. But he did +not avail himself of the permission. He folded the paper, and slipped +it into an envelope, which he sealed. + +"Oh, you are very kind!" said the young girl, touched by his delicacy. + +"Not at all, madam. I only try to do a dishonest thing in the most +honest way. To-morrow, madam, you shall have your answer." + +"I will call for it." + +Mechinet trembled. + +"Take care not to do so," he said. "The good people of Sauveterre are +too cunning not to know that just now you are not thinking much of +dress; and your calls here would look suspicious. Leave it to me to +see to it that you get M. de Boiscoran's answer." + +While Dionysia was writing, the clerk had made a parcel of the bonds +which she had brought. He handed it to her, and said,-- + +"Take it, madam. If I want money for Blangin, or for Trumence, I will +ask you for it. And now you must go: you need not go in to my sisters. +I will explain your visit to them." + + + + VIII. + +"What can have happened to Dionysia, that she does not come back?" +murmured Grandpapa Chandore, as he walked up and down the Square, and +looked, for the twentieth time, at his watch. For some time the fear +of displeasing his grandchild, and of receiving a scolding, kept him +at the place where she had told him to wait for her; but at last it +was too much for him, and he said,-- + +"Upon my word, this is too much! I'll risk it." + +And, crossing the road which separates the Square from the houses, he +entered the long, narrow passage in the house of the sisters Mechinet. +He was just putting his foot on the first step of the stairs, when he +saw a light above. He distinguished the voice of his granddaughter, +and then her light step. + +"At last!" he thought. + +And swiftly, like a schoolboy who hears his teacher coming, and fears +to be caught in the act, he slipped back into the Square. Dionysia was +there almost at the same moment, and fell on his neck, saying,-- + +"Dear grandpapa, I bring you back your bonds," and then she rained a +shower of kisses upon the old gentleman's furrowed cheeks. + +If any thing could astonish M. de Chandore, it was the idea that there +should exist in this world a man with a heart hard, cruel, and +barbarous enough, to resist his Dionysia's prayers and tears, +especially if they were backed by twenty thousand francs. +Nevertheless, he said mournfully,-- + +"Ah! I told you, my dear child, you would not succeed." + +"And you were mistaken, dear grandpapa, and you are still mistaken; +for I have succeeded!" + +"But--you bring back the money?" + +"Because I have found an honest man, dearest grandpapa,--a most +honorable man. Poor fellow, how I must have tempted his honesty! For +he is very much embarrassed, I know it from good authority, ever since +he and his sisters bought that house. It was more than comfort, it was +a real fortune, I offered him. Ah! you ought to have seen how his eyes +brightened up, and how his hands trembled, when he took up the bonds! +Well, he refused to take them, after all; and the only reward he asks +for the very good service which he is going to render us"-- + +M. de Chandore expressed his assent by a gesture, and then said,-- + +"You are right, darling: that clerk is a good man, and he has won our +eternal gratitude." + +"I ought to add," continued Dionysia, "that I was ever so brave. I +should never have thought that I could be so bold. I wish you had been +hid in some corner, grandpapa, to see me and hear me. You would not +have recognized your grandchild. I cried a little, it is true, when I +had carried my point." + +"Oh, dear, dear child!" murmured the old gentleman, deeply moved. + +"You see, grandpapa, I thought of nothing but of Jacques's danger, and +of the glory of proving myself worthy of him, who is so brave himself. +I hope he will be satisfied with me." + +"He would be hard to please, indeed, if he were not!" exclaimed M. de +Chandore. + +The grandfather and his child were standing all the while under the +trees in the great Square while they were thus talking to each other; +and already a number of people had taken the opportunity of passing +close by them, with ears wide open, and all eagerness, to find out +what was going on: it is a way people have in small towns. Dionysia +remembered the clerk's kindly warnings; and, as soon as she became +aware of it, she said to her grandfather,-- + +"Come, grandpapa. People are listening. I will tell you the rest as we +are going home." + +And so, on their way, she told him all the little details of her +interview; and the old gentleman declared, in all earnest, that he did +not know which to admire most,--her presence of mind, or Mechinet's +disinterestedness. + +"All the more reason," said the young girl, "why we should not add to +the dangers which the good man is going to run for us. I promised him +to tell nobody, and I mean to keep my promise. If you believe me, dear +grandpapa, we had better not speak of it to anybody, not even to my +aunts." + +"You might just as well declare at once, little scamp, that you want +to save Jacques quite alone, without anybody's help." + +"Ah, if I could do that! Unfortunately, we must take M. Folgat into +our confidence; for we cannot do without his advice." + +Thus it was done. The poor aunts, and even the marchioness, had to be +content with Dionysia's not very plausible explanation of her visit. +And a few hours afterwards M. de Chandore, the young girl, and M. +Folgat held a council in the baron's study. The young lawyer was even +more surprised by Dionysia's idea, and her bold proceedings, then her +grandfather; he would never have imagined that she was capable of such +a step, she looked so timid and innocent, like a mere child. He was +about to compliment her; but she interrupted him eagerly, saying,-- + +"There is nothing to boast of. I ran no risk." + +"A very substantial risk, madam, I assure you." + +"Pshaw!" exclaimed M. de Chandore. + +"To bribe an official," continued M. Folgat, "is a very grave offence. +The Criminal Code has a certain paragraph, No. 179, which does not +trifle, and punishes the man who bribes, as well as the man who is +bribed." + +"Well, so much the better!" cried Dionysia. "If poor M. Mechinet has +to go to prison, I'll go with him!" + +And, without noticing the dissatisfaction expressed in her +grandfather's features, she added, turning to M. Folgat,-- + +"After all, sir, you see that your wishes have been fulfilled. We +shall be able to communicate with M. de Boiscoran: he will give us his +instructions." + +"Perhaps so, madam." + +"How? Perhaps? You said yourself"-- + +"I told you, madam, it would be useless, perhaps even imprudent, to +take any steps before we know the truth. But will we know it? Do you +think that M. de Boiscoran, who has good reasons for being suspicious +of every thing, will at once tell us all in a letter which must needs +pass through several hands before it can reach us?" + +"He will tell us all, sir, without reserve, without fear, and without +danger." + +"Oh!" + +"I have taken my precautions. You will see." + +"Then we have only to wait." + +Alas, yes! They had to wait, and that was what distressed Dionysia. +She hardly slept that night. The next day was one unbroken torment. At +each ringing of the bell, she trembled, and ran to see. + +At last, towards five o'clock, when nothing had come, she said,-- + +"It is not to be to-day, provided, O God! that poor Mechinet has not +been caught." + +And, perhaps in order to escape for a time the anguish of her fears, +she agreed to accompany Jacques's mother, who wanted to pay some +visits. + +Ah, if she had but known! She had not left the house ten minutes, when +one of those street-boys, who abound at all hours of the day on the +great Square, appeared, bringing a letter to her address. They took it +to M. de Chandore, who, while waiting for dinner, was walking in the +garden with M. Folgat. + +"A letter for Dionysia!" exclaimed the old gentleman, as soon as the +servant had disappeared. "Here is the answer we have been waiting +for!" + +He boldly tore it open. Alas! It was useless. The note within the +envelope ran thus,-- + + "31:9, 17, 19, 23, 25, 28, 32, 101, 102, 129, 137, 504, 515--37:2, + 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 13, 14, 24, 27, 52, 54, 118, 119, 120, 200, + 201--41:7, 9, 17, 21, 22, 44, 45, 46"-- + +And so on, for two pages. + +"Look at this, and try to make it out," said M. de Chandore, handing +the letter to M. Folgat. + +The young man actually tried it; but, after five minutes' useless +efforts, he said,-- + +"I understand now why Miss Chandore promised us that we should know +the truth. M. de Boiscoran and she have formerly corresponded with +each other in cipher." + +Grandpapa Chandore raised his hands to heaven. + +"Just think of these little girls! Here we are utterly helpless +without her, as she alone can translate those hieroglyphics for you." + +If Dionysia had hoped, by accompanying the marchioness on her visits, +to escape from the sad presentiments that oppressed her, she was +cruelly disappointed. They went to M. Seneschal's house first; but the +mayor's wife was by no means calculated to give courage to others in +an hour of peril. She could do nothing but embrace alternately +Jacques's mother and Dionysia, and, amid a thousand sobs, tell them +over and over again, that she looked upon one as the most unfortunate +of mothers, and upon the other as the most unfortunate of betrothed +maidens. + +"Does the woman think Jacques is guilty?" thought Dionysia, and felt +almost angry. + +And that was not all. As they returned home, and passed the house +which had been provisionally taken for Count Claudieuse and his +family, they heard a little boy calling out,-- + +"O mamma, come quick! Here are the murderer's mother and his +sweetheart." + +Thus the poor girl came home more downcast than before. Immediately, +however, her maid, who had evidently been on the lookout for her +return, told her that her grandfather and the lawyer from Paris were +waiting for her in the baron's study. She hastened there without +stopping to take off her bonnet; and, as soon as she came in, M. de +Chandore handed her Jacques's letter, saying,-- + +"Here is your answer." + +She could not repress a little cry of delight, and rapidly touched the +letter with her lips, repeating,-- + +"Now we are safe, we are safe!" + +M. de Chandore smiled at the happiness of his granddaughter. + +"But, Miss Hypocrite," he said, "it seems you had great secrets to +communicate to M. de Boiscoran, since you resorted to cipher, like +arch conspirators. M. Folgat and I tried to read it; but it was all +Greek to us." + +Now only the young lady remembered M. Folgat's presence, and, blushing +deeply, she said,-- + +"Latterly Jacques and I had been discussing the various methods to +which people resort who wish to carry on a secret correspondence: this +led him to teach me one of the ways. Two correspondents choose any +book they like, and each takes a copy of the same edition. The writer +looks in his volume for the words he wants, and numbers them; his +correspondent finds them by the aid of these numbers. Thus, in +Jacques's letters, the numbers followed by a colon refer to the pages, +and the others to the order in which the words come." + +"Ah, ah!" said Grandpapa Chandore, "I might have looked a long time." + +"It is a very simple method," replied Dionysia, "very well known, and +still quite safe. How could an outsider guess what book the +correspondents have chosen? Then there are other means to mislead +indiscreet people. It may be agreed upon, for instance, that the +numbers shall never have their apparent value, or that they shall vary +according to the day of the month or the week. Thus, to-day is Monday, +the second day of the week. Well, I have to deduct one from each +number of a page, and add one to each number of a word." + +"And you will be able to make it all out?" asked M. de Chandore. + +"Certainly, dear grandpapa. Ever since Jacques explained it to me, I +have tried to learn it as a matter of course. We have chose a book +which I am very fond of, Cooper's 'Spy;' and we amused ourselves by +writing endless letters. Oh! it is very amusing, and it takes time, +because one does not always find the words that are needed, and then +they have to be spelled letter by letter." + +"And M. de Boiscoran has a copy of Cooper's novels in his prison?" +asked M. Folgat. + +"Yes, sir. M. Mechinet told me so. As soon as Jacques found he was to +be kept in close confinement, he asked for some of Cooper's novels, +and M. Galpin, who is so cunning, so smart, and so suspicious, went +himself and got them for him. Jacques was counting upon me." + +"Then, dear child, go and read your letter, and solve the riddle," +said M. de Chandore. + +When she had left, he said to his companion,-- + +"How she loves him! How she loves this man Jacques! Sir, if any thing +should happen to him, she would die." + +M. Folgat made no reply; and nearly an hour passed, before Dionysia, +shut up in her room, had succeeded in finding all the words of which +Jacques's letter was composed. But when she had finished, and came +back to her grandfather's study, her youthful face expressed the most +profound despair. + +"This is horrible!" she said. + +The same idea crossed, like a sharp arrow, the minds of M. de Chandore +and M. Folgat. Had Jacques confessed? + +"Look, read yourself!" said Dionysia, handing them the translation. + +Jacques wrote,-- + + "Thanks for your letter, my darling. A presentiment had warned me, + and I had asked for a copy of Cooper. + + "I understand but too well how grieved you must be at seeing me + kept in prison without my making an effort to establish my + innocence. I kept silence, because I hoped the proof of my + innocence would come from outside. I see that it would be madness + to hope so any longer, and that I must speak. I shall speak. But + what I have to say is so very serious, that I shall keep silence + until I shall have had an opportunity of consulting with some one + in whom I can feel perfect confidence. Prudence alone is not + enough now: skill also is required. Until now I felt secure, + relying on my innocence. But the last examination has opened my + eyes, and I now see the danger to which I am exposed. + + "I shall suffer terribly until the day when I can see a lawyer. + Thank my mother for having brought one. I hope he will pardon me, + if I address myself first to another man. I want a man who knows + the country and its customs. + + "That is why I have chosen M. Magloire; and I beg you will tell him + to hold himself ready for the day on which, the examination being + completed, I shall be relieved from close confinement. + + "Until then, nothing can be done, nothing, unless you can obtain + that the case be taken out of M. G-----'s hands, and be given to + some one else. That man acts infamously. He wants me to be guilty. + He would himself commit a crime in order to charge me with it, and + there is no kind of trap he does not lay for me. I have the + greatest difficulty in controlling myself every time I see this + man enter my cell, who was my friend, and now is my accuser. + + "Ah, my dear ones! I pay a heavy price for a fault of which I have + been, until now, almost unconscious. + + "And you, my only friend, will you ever be able to forgive me the + terrible anxiety I cause you? + + "I should like to say much more; but the prisoner who has handed me + your note says I must be quick, and it takes so much time to pick + out the words! + + "J." + +When the letter had been read, M. Folgat and M. de Chandore sadly +turned their heads aside, fearing lest Dionysia should read in their +eyes the secret of their thoughts. But she felt only too well what it +meant. + +"You cannot doubt Jacques, grandpapa!" she cried. + +"No," murmured the old gentleman feebly, "no." + +"And you, M. Folgat--are you so much hurt by Jacques's desire to +consult another lawyer?" + +"I should have been the first, madam, to advise him to consult a +native." + +Dionysia had to summon all her energy to check her tears. + +"Yes," she said, "this letter is terrible; but how can it be +otherwise? Don't you see that Jacques is in despair, that his mind +wanders after all these fearful shocks?" + +Somebody knocked gently at the door. + +"It is I," said the marchioness. + +Grandpapa Chandore, M. Folgat, and Dionysia looked at each other for a +moment; and then the advocate said,-- + +"The situation is too serious: we must consult the marchioness." He +rose to open the door. Since the three friends had been holding the +council in the baron's study, a servant had come five times in +succession to knock at the door, and tell them that the soup was on +the table. + +"Very well," they had replied each time. + +At last, as they did not come down yet, Jacques's mother had come to +the conclusion that something extraordinary had occurred. + +"Now, what could this be, that they should keep it from her?" she +thought. If it were something good, they would not have concealed it +from her. She had come up stairs, therefore, with the firm resolution +to force them to let her come in. When M. Folgat opened the door, she +said instantly,-- + +"I mean to know all!" + +Dionysia replied to her,-- + +"Whatever you may hear, my dear mother, pray remember, that if you +allow a single word to be torn from you, by joy or by sorrow, you +cause the ruin of an honest man, who has put us all under such +obligations as can never be fully discharged. I have been fortunate +enough to establish a correspondence between Jacques and us." + +"O Dionysia!" + +"I have written to him, and I have received his answer. Here it is." + +The marchioness was almost beside herself, and eagerly snatched at the +letter. But, as she read on, it was fearful to see how the blood +receded from her face, how her eyes grew dim, her lips turned pale, +and at last her breath failed to come. The letter slipped from her +trembling hands; she sank into a chair, and said, stammering,-- + +"It is no use to struggle any longer: we are lost!" + +There was something grand in Dionysia's gesture and the admirable +accent of her voice, as she said,-- + +"Why don't you say at once, my mother, that Jacques is an incendiary +and an assassin?" + +Raising her head with an air of dauntless energy, with trembling lips, +and fierce glances full of wrath and disdain, she added,-- + +"And do I really remain the only one to defend him,--him, who, in his +days of prosperity, had so many friends? Well, so be it!" + +Naturally, M. Folgat had been less deeply moved than either the +marchioness or M. de Chandore; and hence he was also the first to +recover his calmness. + +"We shall be two, madam, at all events," he said; "for I should never +forgive myself, if I allowed myself to be influenced by that letter. +It would be inexcusable, since I know by experience what your heart +has told you instinctively. Imprisonment has horrors which affect the +strongest and stoutest of minds. The days in prison are interminable, +and the nights have nameless terrors. The innocent man in his lonely +cell feels as if he were becoming guilty, as the man of soundest +intellect would begin to doubt himself in a madhouse"-- + +Dionysia did not let him conclude. She cried,-- + +"That is exactly what I felt, sir; but I could not express it as +clearly as you do." + +Ashamed at their lack of courage, M. de Chandore and the marchioness +made an effort to recover from the doubts which, for a moment, had +well-nigh overcome them. + +"But what is to be done?" asked the old lady. + +"Your son tells us, madam, we have only to wait for the end of the +preliminary examination." + +"I beg your pardon," said M. de Chandore, "we have to try to get the +case handed over to another magistrate." + +M. Folgat shook his head. + +"Unfortunately, that is not to be dreamt of. A magistrate acting in +his official capacity cannot be rejected like a simple juryman." + +"However"-- + +"Article 542 of the Criminal Code is positive on the subject." + +"Ah! What does it say?" asked Dionysia. + +"It says, in substance, madam, that a demand for a change of +magistrate, on the score of well-founded suspicion, can only be +entertained by a court of appeals, because the magistrate, within his +legitimate sphere, is a court in himself. I do not know if I express +myself clearly?" + +"Oh, very clearly!" said M. de Chandore. "Only, since Jacques wishes +it"-- + +"To be sure; but M. de Boiscoran does not know"-- + +"I beg your pardon. He knows that the magistrate is his mortal enemy." + +"Be it so. But how would that help us? Do you think that a demand for +a change of venue would prevent M. Galpin from carrying on the +proceedings? Not at all. He would go on until the decision comes from +the Court of Appeals. He could, it is true, issue no final order; but +that is the very thing M. de Boiscoran ought to desire, since such an +order would make an end to his close confinement, and enable him to +see an advocate." + +"That is atrocious!" murmured M. de Chandore. + +"It is atrocious, indeed; but such are the laws of France." + +In the meantime Dionysia had been meditating; and now she said to the +young advocate,-- + +"I have understood you perfectly, and to-morrow your objections shall +be known to M. de Boiscoran." + +"Above all," said the lawyer, "explain to him clearly that any such +steps as he proposes to take will turn to his disadvantage. M. Galpin +is our enemy; but we can make no specific charge against him. They +would always reply, "If M. de Boiscoran is innocent, why does he not +speak?" + +This is what Grandpapa Chandore would not admit. + +"Still," he said, "if we could bring influential men to help us?" + +"Can you?" + +"Certainly. Boiscoran has old friends, who, no doubt, are all-powerful +still under the present government. He was, in former years, very +intimate with M. de Margeril." + +M. Folgat's expression was very encouraging. + +"Ah!" he said, "if M. de Margeril could give us a lift! But he is not +easily approached." + +"We might send Boiscoran to see him, at least. Since he remained in +Paris for the purpose of assisting us there, now he will have an +opportunity. I will write to him to-night." + +Since the name of Margeril had been mentioned, the marchioness had +become, if possible, paler than ever. At the old gentleman's last +words she rose, and said anxiously,-- + +"Do not write, sir: it would be useless. I do not wish it." + +Her embarrassment was so evident, that the others were quite +surprised. + +"Have Boiscoran and M. de Margeril had any difficulty?" asked M. de +Chandore. + +"Yes." + +"But," cried Dionysia, "it is a matter of life and death for Jacques." + +Alas! The poor woman could not speak of the suspicions which had +darkened the whole life of the Marquis de Boiscoran, nor of the cruel +penalty which the wife was now called upon to pay for a slight +imprudence. + +"If it is absolutely necessary," she said with a half-stifled voice, +"if that is our very last hope, then I will go and see M. de Margeril +myself." + +M. Folgat was the only one who suspected what painful antecedents +there might be in the life of the marchioness, and how she was +harassed by their memory now. He interposed, therefore, saying,-- + +"At all events, my advice is to await the end of the preliminary +investigation. I may be mistaken, however, and, before any answer is +sent to M. Jacques, I desire that the lawyer to whom he alludes should +be consulted." + +"That is certainly the wisest plan," said M. de Chandore. And, ringing +for a servant, he sent him at once to M. Magloire, to ask him to call +after dinner. Jacques de Boiscoran had chosen wisely. M. Magloire was +looked upon in Sauveterre as the most eloquent and most skilful +lawyer, not only of the district, but of the whole province. And what +is rarer still, and far more glorious, he had, besides, the reputation +of being unsurpassed in integrity and a high sense of honor. It was +well known that he would never had consented to plead a doubtful +cause; and they told of him a number of heroic stories, in which he +had thrown clients out of the window, who had been so ill-advised to +come to him, money in hand, to ask him to undertake an unclean case. +He was naturally not a rich man, and preserved, at fifty-four or five, +all the habits of a frugal and thrifty young man. + +After having married quite young, M. Magloire had lost his wife after +a few months, and had never recovered from the loss. Although thirty +years old, the wound had never healed; and regularly, on certain days, +he was seen wending his way to the cemetery, to place flowers on a +modest grave there. Any other man would have been laughed at for such +a thing at Sauveterre; but with him they dared not do so, for they all +respected him highly. Young and old knew and reverenced the tall man +with the calm, serene face, the clear, bright eyes, and the eloquent +lips, which, in their well-cut, delicate lines, by turns glowed with +scorn, with tenderness, or with disdain. + +Like Dr. Seignebos, M. Magloire also was a Republican; and, at the +last Imperial elections, the Bonapartists had had the greatest +trouble, aided though they were by the whole influence of the +government, and shrinking from no unfair means, to keep him out of the +Chamber. Nor would they have been successful after all, but for the +influence of Count Claudieuse, who had prevailed upon a number of +electors to abstain from voting. + +This was the man, who, towards nine o'clock, presented himself, upon +the invitation of M. de Chandore, at his house, where he was anxiously +expected by all the inmates. His greeting was affectionate, but at the +same time so sad, that it touched Dionysia's heart most painfully. She +thought she saw that M. Magloire was not far from believing Jacques +guilty. + +And she was not mistaken; for M. Magloire let them see it clearly, in +the most delicate manner, to be sure, but still so as to leave no +doubt. He had spent the day in court, and there had heard the opinions +of the members of the court, which was by no means favorable to the +accused. Under such circumstances, it would have evidently been a +grave blunder to yield to Jacques's wishes, and to apply for a change +of venue from M. Galpin to some other magistrate. + +"The investigation will last a year," cried Dionysia, "since M. Galpin +is determined to obtain from Jacques the confession of a crime which +he has not committed." + +M. Magloire shook his head, and replied,-- + +"I believe, on the contrary, madam, that the investigation will be +very soon concluded." + +"But if Jacques keeps silent?" + +"Neither the silence of an accused, nor any other caprice or obstinacy +of his, can interfere with the regular process. Called upon to produce +his justification, if he refuses to do so, the law proceeds without +him." + +"Still, sir, if an accused person has reasons"-- + +"There are no reasons which can force a man to let himself be accused +unjustly. But even that case has been foreseen. The accused is at +liberty not to answer a question which may inculpate him. /Nemo +tenetur prodere se ipsum/. But you must admit that such a refusal to +answer justifies a judge in believing that the charges are true which +the accused does not refute." + +The great calmness of the distinguished lawyer of Sauveterre terrified +his listeners more and more, except M. Folgat. When they heard him use +all those technical terms, they felt chilled through and through like +the friends of a wounded man who hear the grating noise of the +surgeon's knife. + +"My son's situation appears to you very serious, sir?" asked the +marchioness in a feeble voice. + +"I said it was dangerous, madam." + +"You think, as M. Folgat does, that every day adds to the danger to +which he is exposed?" + +"I am but too sure of that. And if M. de Boiscoran is really +innocent"-- + +"Ah, M. Magloire!" broke in Dionysia, "how can you, who are a friend +of Jacques's, say so?" + +M. Magloire looked at the young girl with an air of deep and sincere +pity, and then said,-- + +"It is precisely because I am his friend, madam, that I am bound to +tell you the truth. Yes, I know and I appreciate all the noble +qualities which distinguish M. de Boiscoran. I have loved him, and I +love him still. But this is a matter which we have to look at with the +mind, and not with the heart. Jacques is a man; and he will be judged +by men. There is clear, public, and absolute evidence of his guilt on +hand. What evidence has he to offer of his innocence? Moral evidence +only." + +"O God!" murmured Dionysia. + +"I think, therefore, with my honorable brother"-- + +And M. Magloire bowed to M. Folgat. + +"I think, that, if M. de Boiscoran is innocent, he has adopted an +unfortunate system. Ah! if luckily there should be an /alibi/. He +ought to make haste, great haste, to establish it. He ought not to +allow matters to go on till he is sent up into court. Once there, an +accused is three-fourths condemned already." + +For once it looked as if the crimson in M. de Chandore's cheeks was +growing pale. + +"And yet," he exclaimed, "Jacques will not change his system: any one +who knows his mulish obstinacy might be quite sure of that." + +"And unfortunately he has made up his mind," said Dionysia, "as M. +Magloire, who knows him so well, will see from this letter of his." + +Until now nothing had been said to let the Sauveterre lawyer suspect +that communications had been opened with the prisoner. Now that the +letter had been alluded to, it became necessary to take him into +confidence. At first he was astonished, then he looked displeased; +and, when he had been told every thing, he said,-- + +"This is great imprudence! This is too daring!" + +Then looking at M. Folgat, he added,-- + +"Our profession has certain rules which cannot be broken without +causing trouble. To bribe a clerk, to profit by his weakness and his +sympathy"-- + +The Paris lawyer had blushed imperceptibly. He said,-- + +"I should never have advised such imprudence; but, when it was once +committed, I did not feel bound to insist upon its being abandoned: +and even if I should be blamed for it, or more, I mean to profit by +it." + +M. Magloire did not rely; but, after having read Jacques's letter, he +said,-- + +"I am at M. de Boiscoran's disposal; and I shall go to him as soon as +he is no longer in close confinement. I think, as Miss Dionysia does, +that he will insist upon saying nothing. However, as we have the means +of reaching him by letter,--well, here I am myself ready to profit by +the imprudence that has been committed!--beseech him, in the name of +his own interest, in the name of all that is dear to him, to speak, to +explain, to prove his innocence." + +Thereupon M. Magloire bowed, and withdrew suddenly, leaving his +audience in consternation, so very evident was it, that he left so +suddenly in order to conceal the painful impression which Jacques's +letter had produced upon him. + +"Certainly," said M. de Chandore, "we will write to him; but we might +just as well whistle. He will wait for the end of the investigation." + +"Who knows?" murmured Dionysia. + +And, after a moment's reflection, she added,-- + +"We can try, however." + +And, without vouchsafing any further explanation, she left the room, +and hastened to her chamber to write the following letter:-- + + "I must speak to you. There is a little gate in our garden which + opens upon Charity Lane, I will wait for you there. However late + it may be when you get these lines, come! + + "DIONYSIA." + +Then having put the note into an envelope, she called the old nurse, +who had brought her up, and, with all the recommendations which +extreme prudence could suggest, she said to her,-- + +"You must see to it that M. Mechinet the clerk gets this note +to-night. Go! make haste!" + + + + IX. + +During the last twenty-four hours, Mechinet had changed so much, that +his sisters recognized him no longer. Immediately after Dionysia's +departure, they had come to him, hoping to hear at last what was meant +by that mysterious interview; but at the first word he had cried out +with a tone of voice which frightened his sisters to death,-- + +"That is none of your business! That is nobody's business!" and he had +remained alone, quite overcome by his adventure, and dreaming of the +means to make good his promise without ruining himself. That was no +easy matter. + +When the decisive moment arrived, he discovered that he would never be +able to get the note into M. de Boiscoran's hands, without being +caught by that lynx-eyed M. Galpin: as the letter was burning in his +pocket, he saw himself compelled, after long hesitation, to appeal for +help to the man who waited on Jacques,--to Trumence, in fine. The +latter was, after all, a good enough fellow; his only besetting sin +being unconquerable laziness, and his only crime in the eyes of the +law perpetual vagrancy. He was attached to Mechinet, who upon former +occasions, when he was in jail, had given him some tobacco, or a +little money to buy a glass of wine. He made therefore no objection, +when the clerk asked him to give a letter to M. de Boiscoran, and to +bring back an answer. He acquitted himself, moreover, faithfully and +honestly of his commission. But, because every thing had gone well +once, it did not follow that Mechinet felt quite at peace. Besides +being tormented by the thought that he had betrayed his duty, he felt +wretched in being at the mercy of an accomplice. How easily might he +not be betrayed! A slight indiscretion, an awkward blunder, an unlucky +accident, might do it. What would become of him then? + +He would lose his place and all his other employments, one by one. He +would lose confidence and consideration. Farewell to all ambitious +dreams, all hopes of wealth, all dreams of an advantageous marriage. +And still, by an odd contradiction, Mechinet did not repent what he +had done, and felt quite ready to do it over again. He was in this +state of mind when the old nurse brought him Dionysia's letter. + +"What, again?" he exclaimed. + +And when he had read the few lines, he replied,-- + +"Tell your mistress I will be there!" But in his heart he thought some +untoward event must have happened. + +The little garden-gate was half-open: he had only to push it to enter. +There was no moon; but the night was clear, and at a short distance +from him, under the trees, he recognized Dionysia, and went towards +her. + +"Pardon me, sir," she said, "for having dared to send for you." + +Mechinet's anxiety vanished instantly. He thought no longer of his +strange position. His vanity was flattered by the confidence which +this young lady put in him, whom he knew very well as the noblest, the +most beautiful, and the richest heiress in the whole country. + +"You were quite right to send for me, madam," he replied, "if I can be +of any service to you." + +In a few words she had told him all; and, when she asked his advice, +he replied,-- + +"I am entirely of M. Folgat's opinion, and think that grief and +isolation begin to have their effect upon M. de Boiscoran's mind." + +"Oh, that thought is maddening!" murmured the poor girl. + +"I think, as M. Magloire does, that M. de Boiscoran, by his silence, +only makes his situation much worse. I have a proof of that. M. +Galpin, who, at first, was all doubt and anxiety, is now quite +reassured. The attorney-general has written him a letter, in which he +compliments his energy." + +"And then." + +"Then we must induce M. de Boiscoran to speak. I know very well that +he is firmly resolved not to speak; but if you were to write to him, +since you can write to him"-- + +"A letter would be useless." + +"But"-- + +"Useless, I tell you. But I know a means." + +"You must use it promptly, madam: don't lose a moment. There is no +time." + +The night was clear, but not clear enough for the clerk to see how +very pale Dionysia was. + +"Well, then, I must see M. de Boiscoran: I must speak to him." + +She expected the clerk to start, to cry out, to protest. Far from it: +he said in the quietest tone,-- + +"To be sure; but how?" + +"Blangin the keeper, and his wife, keep their places only because they +give them a support. Why might I not offer them, in return for an +interview with M. de Boiscoran, the means to go and live in the +country?" + +"Why not?" said the clerk. + +And in a lower voice, replying to the voice of his conscience, he went +on,-- + +"The jail in Sauveterre is not at all like the police-stations and +prisons of larger towns. The prisoners are few in number; they are +hardly guarded. When the doors are shut, Blangin is master within." + +"I will go and see him to-morrow," declared Dionysia. + +There are certain slopes on which you must glide down. Having once +yielded to Dionysia's suggestions, Mechinet had, unconsciously, bound +himself to her forever. + +"No: do not go there, madam," he said. "You could not make Blangin +believe that he runs no danger; nor could you sufficiently arouse his +cupidity. I will speak to him myself." + +"O sir!" exclaimed Dionysia, "how can I ever?"-- + +"How much may I offer him?" asked the clerk. + +"Whatever you think proper--any thing." + +"Then, madam, I will bring you an answer to-morrow, here, and at the +same hour." + +And he went away, leaving Dionysia so buoyed up by hope, that all the +evening, and the next day, the two aunts and the marchioness, neither +of whom was in the secret, asked each other incessantly,-- + +"What is the matter with the child?" + +She was thinking, that, if the answer was favorable, ere twenty-four +hours had gone by, she would see Jacques; and she kept saying to +herself,-- + +"If only Mechinet is punctual!" + +He was so. At ten o'clock precisely, he pushed open the little gate, +just as the night before, and said at once,-- + +"It is all right!" + +Dionysia was so terribly excited, that she had to lean against a tree. + +"Blangin agrees," the clerk went on. "I promised him sixteen thousand +francs. Perhaps that is rather much?" + +"It is very little." + +"He insists upon having them in gold." + +"He shall have it." + +"Finally, he makes certain conditions with regard to the interview, +which will appear rather hard to you." + +The young girl had quite recovered by this time. + +"What are they?" + +"Blangin is taking all possible precautions against detection, +although he is quite prepared for the worst. He has arranged it this +way: To-morrow evening, at six o'clock, you will pass by the jail. The +door will stand open, and Blangin's wife, whom you know very well, as +she has formerly been in your service, will be standing in the door. +If she does not speak to you, you keep on: something has happened. If +she does speak to you, go up to her, you, quite alone, and she will +show you into a small room which adjoins her own. There you will stay +till Blangin, perhaps at a late hour, thinks he can safely take you to +M. de Boiscoran's cell. When the interview is over, you come back into +the little room, where a bed will be ready for you, and you spend the +night there; for this is the hardest part of it: you cannot leave the +prison till next day." + +This was certainly terrible; still, after a moment's reflection, +Dionysia said,-- + +"Never mind! I accept. Tell Blangin, M. Mechinet, that it is all +right." + +That Dionysia should accept all the conditions of Blangin the jailer +was perfectly natural; but to obtain M. de Chandore's consent was a +much more difficult task. The poor girl understood this so well, that, +for the first time in her life, she felt embarrassed in her +grandfather's presence. She hesitated, she prepared her little speech, +and she selected carefully her words. But in spite of all her skill, +in spite of all the art with which she managed to present her strange +request, M. de Chandore had no sooner understood her project than he +exclaimed,-- + +"Never, never, never!" + +Perhaps in his whole life the old gentleman had never expressed +himself in so positive a manner. His brow had never looked so dark. +Usually, when his granddaughter had a petition, his lips might say, +"No;" but his eyes always said, "Yes." + +"Impossible!" he repeated, and in a tone of voice which seemed to +admit of no reply. + +Surely, in all these painful events, he had not spared himself, and he +had so far done for Dionysia all that she could possibly expect of +him. Her will had been his will. As she had prompted, he had said, +"Yes," or "No." What more could he have said or done? + +Without telling him what she was going to do with it, Dionysia had +asked him for twenty thousand francs, and he had given them to her, +however big the sum might be everywhere, however immense in a small +town like Sauveterre. He was quite ready to give her as much again, or +twice as much, without asking any more questions. + +But for Dionysia to leave her home one evening at six o'clock, and not +to return to it till the next morning-- + +"That I cannot permit," he repeated. + +But for Dionysia to spend a night in the Sauveterre jail, in order to +have an interview with her betrothed, who was accused of incendiarism +and murder; to remain there all night, alone, absolutely at the mercy +of the jailer, a hard, coarse, covetous man-- + +"That I will never permit," exclaimed the old gentleman once more. + +Dionysia remained calm, and let the storm pass. When her grandfather +became silent, she said,-- + +"But if I must?" + +M. de Chandore shrugged his shoulders. She repeated in a louder +tone,-- + +"If I must, in order to decide Jacques to abandon this system that +will ruin him, to induce him to speak before the investigation is +completed?" + +"That is not your business, my child," said the old gentleman. + +"Oh!" + +"That is the business of his mother, the Marchioness of Boiscoran. +Whatever Blangin agrees to venture for your sake, he will do as well +for her sake. Let the marchioness go and spend the night at the jail. +I agree to that. Let her see her son. That is her duty." + +"But surely she will never shake Jacques's resolution." + +"And you think you have more influence over him than his mother?" + +"It is not the same thing, dear papa." + +"Never mind!" + +This "never mind" of Grandpapa Chandore was as positive as his +"impossible;" but he had begun to discuss the question, and to discuss +means to listen to arguments on the other side. + +"Do not insist, my dear child," he said again. "My mind is made up; +and I assure you"-- + +"Don't say so, papa," said the young girl. + +And her attitude was so determined, and her voice so firm, that the +old gentleman was quite overwhelmed for a moment. + +"But, if I am not willing," he said. + +"You will consent, dear papa, you will certainly not force your little +granddaughter, who loves you so dearly, to the painful necessity of +disobeying you for the first time in her life." + +"Because, for the first time in her life I am not doing what my +granddaughter wants me to do?" + +"Dear papa, let me tell you." + +"Rather listen to me, poor child, and let me show you to what dangers, +to what misfortunes, you expose yourself. To go and spend a night at +this prison would be risking, understand me well, your honor,--that +tender, delicate honor which is tarnished by a breath, which involves +the happiness and the peace of your whole life." + +"But Jacques's honor and life are at stake." + +"Poor imprudent girl! How do you know but he would be the very first +to blame you cruelly for such a step?" + +"He?" + +"Men are made so: the most perfect devotion irritates them at times." + +"Be it so. I would rather endure Jacques's unjust reproaches than the +idea of not having done my duty." + +M. de Chandore began to despair. + +"And if I were to beg you, Dionysia, instead of commanding. If your +old grandfather were to beseech you on his knees to abandon your fatal +project." + +"You would cause me fearful pain, dear papa: but it would be all in +vain; for I must resist your prayers, as I must resist your orders." + +"Inexorable!" cried the old gentleman. "She is immovable!" And +suddenly changing his tone, he cried,-- + +"But, after all, I am master here." + +"Dear papa, pray!" + +"And since nothing can move you, I will speak to Mechinet, I will let +Blangin know my will." + +Dionysia, turning as pale as death, but with burning eyes, drew back a +step, and said,-- + +"If you do that, grandpapa, if you destroy my last hope"-- + +"Well?" + +"I swear to you by the sacred memory of my mother, I will be in a +convent to-morrow, and you will never see me again in your life, not +even if I should die, which would certainly soon"-- + +M. de Chandore, raising his hands to heaven, and with an accent of +genuine despair, exclaimed,-- + +"Ah, my God! Are these our children? And is this what is in store for +us old people? We have spent a lifetime in watching over them; we have +submissively gratified all their fancies; they have been our greatest +anxiety, and our sweetest hope; we have given them our life day by +day, and we would not hesitate to give them our life's blood drop by +drop; they are every thing to us, and we imagine they love us--poor +fools that we are! One fine day, a man goes by, a careless, +thoughtless man, with a bright eye and a ready tongue, and it is all +over. Our child is no longer our own; our child no longer knows us. +Go, old man, and die in your corner." + +Overwhelmed by his grief, the old man staggered and sank into a chair, +as an old oak, cut by the woodman's axe, trembles and falls. + +"Ah, this is fearful!" murmured Dionysia. "What you say, grandpapa, is +too fearful. How can you doubt me?" + +She had knelt down. She was weeping; and her hot tears fell upon the +old gentleman's hands. He started up as he felt them on his icy-cold +hand; and, making one more effort, he said,-- + +"Poor, poor child! And suppose Jacques is guilty, and, when he sees +you, confesses his crime, what then?" + +Dionysia shook her head. + +"That is impossible," she said; "and still, even if it were so, I +ought to be punished as much as he is; for I know, if he had asked me, +I should have acted in concert with him." + +"She is mad!" exclaimed M. de Chandore, falling back into his chair. +"She is mad!" + +But he was overcome; and the next day, at five in the afternoon, his +heart torn by unspeakable grief, he went down the steep street with +his daughter on his arm. Dionysia had chosen her simplest and plainest +dress; and the little bag she carried on her arm contained not sixteen +but twenty thousand francs. As a matter of course, it had been +necessary to take the marchioness into their confidence; but neither +she, nor the Misses Lavarande, nor M. Folgat, had raised an objection. +Down to the prison, grandfather and grandchild had not exchanged a +word; but, when they reached it, Dionysia said,-- + +"I see Mrs. Blangin at the door: let us be careful." + +They came nearer. Mrs. Blangin saluted them. + +"Come, it is time," said the young girl. "Till to-morrow, dear papa! +Go home quickly, and be not troubled about me." + +Then joining the keeper's wife, she disappeared inside the prison. + + + + X. + +The prison of Sauveterre is in the castle at the upper end of town, in +a poor and almost deserted suburb. This castle, once upon a time of +great importance, had been dismantled at the time of the siege of +Rochelle; and all that remains are a few badly-repaired ruins, +ramparts with fosses that have been filled up, a gate surmounted by a +small belfry, a chapel converted into a magazine, and finally two huge +towers connected by an immense building, the lower rooms in which are +vaulted. + +Nothing can be more mournful than these ruins, enclosed within an ivy- +covered wall; and nothing would indicate the use that is made of them, +except the sentinel which stands day and night at the gate. Ancient +elm-trees overshadow the vast courts; and on the old walls, as well as +in every crevice, there grow and bloom enough flowers to rejoice a +hundred prisoners. But this romantic prison is without prisoners. + +"It is a cage without birds," says the jailer often in his most +melancholy voice. + +He takes advantage of this to raise his vegetables all along the +slopes; and the exposure is so excellent, that he is always the first +in Sauveterre who had young peas. He has also taken advantage of this +--with leave granted by the authorities--to fit up very comfortable +lodgings for himself in one of the towers. He has two rooms below, and +a chamber up stairs, which you reach by a narrow staircase in the +thickness of the wall. It was to this chamber that the keeper's wife +took Dionysia with all the promptness of fear. The poor girl was out +of breath. Her heart was beating violently; and, as soon as she was in +the room, she sank into a chair. + +"Great God!" cried the woman. "You are not sick, my dear young lady? +Wait, I'll run for some vinegar." + +"Never mind," replied Dionysia in a feeble voice. "Stay here, my dear +Colette: don't go away!" + +For Colette was her name, though she was as dark as gingerbread, +nearly forty-five years old, and boasted of a decided mustache on her +upper lip. + +"Poor young lady!" she said. "You feel badly at being here." + +"Yes," replied Dionysia. "But where is your husband?" + +"Down stairs, on the lookout, madam. He will come up directly." Very +soon afterwards, a heavy step was heard on the stairs; and Blangin +came in, looking pale and anxious, like a man who feels that he is +running a great risk. + +"Neither seen nor known," he cried. "No one is aware of your presence +here. I was only afraid of that dog of a sentinel; and, just as you +came by, I had managed to get him round the corner, offering him a +drop of something to drink. I begin to hope I shall not lose my +place." + +Dionysia accepted these words as a summons to speak out. + +"Ah!" she said, "don't mind your place: don't you know I have promised +you a better one?" + +And, with a gayety which was very far from being real, she opened her +little bag, and put upon the table the rolls which it contained. + +"Ah, that is gold!" said Blangin with eager eyes. + +"Yes. Each one of these rolls contains a thousand francs; and here are +sixteen." + +An irresistible temptation seized the jailer. + +"May I see?" he asked. + +"Certainly!" replied the young girl. "Look for yourself and count." + +She was mistaken. Blangin did not think of counting, not he. What he +wanted was only to gratify his eye by the sight of the gold, to hear +its sound, to handle it. + +With feverish eagerness he tore open the wrappings, and let the pieces +fall in cascades upon the table; and, as the heap increased, his lips +turned white, and perspiration broke out on his temples. + +"And all that is for me?" he said with a stupid laugh. + +"Yes, it is yours," replied Dionysia. + +"I did not know how sixteen thousand francs would look. How beautiful +gold is! Just look, wife." + +But Colette turned her head away. She was quite as covetous as her +husband, and perhaps even more excited; but she was a woman, and she +knew how to dissemble. + +"Ah, my dear young lady!" she said, "never would my old man and myself +have asked you for money, if we had only ourselves to think of. But we +have children." + +"Your duty is to think of your children," replied Dionysia. + +"I know sixteen thousand francs is a big sum. Perhaps you will be +sorry to give us so much money." + +"I am not sorry at all: I would even add to it willingly." And she +showed them one of the other four rolls in her bag. + +"Then, to be sure, what do I care for my place!" cried Blangin. And, +intoxicated by the sight and the touch of the gold, he added,-- + +"You are at home here, madam; and the jail and the jailer are at your +disposal. What do you desire? Just speak. I have nine prisoners, not +counting M. de Boiscoran and Trumence. Do you want me to set them all +free?" + +"Blangin!" said his wife reprovingly. + +"What? Am I not free to let the prisoners go?" + +"Before you play the master, wait, at least, till you have rendered +our young lady the service which she expects from you." + +"Certainly." + +"Then go and conceal this money," said the prudent woman; "or it might +betray us." + +And, drawing from her cupboard a woollen stocking, she handed it to +her husband, who slipped the sixteen thousand francs into it, +retaining about a dozen gold-pieces, which he kept in his pocket so as +always to have in his hands some tangible evidence of his new fortune. +When this was done, and the stocking, full to overflowing, had been +put back in the cupboard under a pile of linen, she ordered her +husband,-- + +"Now, you go down. Somebody might be coming; and, if you were not +there to open when they knock, that might look suspicious." + +Like a well-trained husband, Blangin obeyed without saying a word; and +then his wife bethought herself how to entertain Dionysia. She hoped, +she said, her dear young lady would do her the honor to take +something. That would strengthen her, and, besides, help her to pass +the time; for it was only seven o'clock, and Blangin could not take +her to M. de Boiscoran's cell before ten, without great danger. + +"But I have dined," Dionysia objected. "I do not want any thing." + +The woman insisted only the more. She remembered (God be thanked!) her +dear young lady's taste; and she had made her an admirable broth, and +some beautiful dessert. And, while thus talking, she set the table, +having made up her mind that Dionysia must eat at all hazards; at +least, so says the tradition of the place. + +The eager zeal of the woman had, at least, this advantage,--that it +prevented Dionysia from giving way to her painful thoughts. + +Night had come. It was nine o'clock; then it struck ten. At last, the +watch came round to relieve the sentinels. A quarter of an hour after +that, Blangin reappeared, holding a lantern and an enormous bunch of +keys in his hands. + +"I have seen Trumence to bed," he said. "You can come now, madam." + +Dionysia was all ready. + +"Let us go," she said simply. + +Then she followed the jailer along interminable passages, through a +vast vaulted hall, in which their steps resounded as in a church, then +through a long gallery. At last, pointing at a massive door, through +the cracks of which the light was piercing, he said,-- + +"Here we are." + +But Dionysia seized his arm, and said in an almost inaudible voice,-- + +"Wait a moment." + +She was almost overcome by so many successive emotions. She felt her +legs give way under her, and her eyes become dim. In her heart she +preserved all her usual energy; but the flesh escaped from her will +and failed her at the last moment. + +"Are you sick?" asked the jailer. "What is the matter?" + +She prayed to God for courage and strength: when her prayer was +finished, she said,-- + +"Now, let us go in." + +And, making a great noise with the keys and the bolts, Blangin opened +the door to Jacques de Boiscoran's cell. + +Jacques counted no longer the days, but the hours. He had been +imprisoned on Friday morning, June 23, and this was Wednesday night, +June 28, He had been a hundred and thirty-two hours, according to the +graphic description of a great writer, "living, but struck from the +roll of the living, and buried alive." + +Each one of these hundred and thirty-two hours had weighed upon him +like a month. Seeing him pale and haggard, with his hair and beard in +disorder, and his eyes shining brightly with fever, like half- +extinguished coals, one would hardly have recognized in him the happy +lord of Boiscoran, free from care and trouble, upon whom fortune had +ever smiled,--that haughty sceptical young man, who from the height of +the past defied the future. + +The fact is, that society, obliged to defend itself against criminals, +has invented no more fearful suffering than what is called "close +confinement." There is nothing that will sooner demoralize a man, +crush his will, and utterly conquer the most powerful energy. There is +no struggle more distressing than the struggle between an innocent man +accused of some crime, and the magistrate,--a helpless being in the +hands of a man armed with unlimited power. + +If great sorrow was not sacred, to a certain degree, Dionysia might +have heard all about Jacques. Nothing would have been easier. She +would have been told by Blangin, who was watching M. de Boiscoran like +a spy, and by his wife, who prepared his meals, through what anguish +he had passed since his imprisonment. + +Stunned at first, he had soon recovered; and on Friday and Saturday he +had been quiet and confident, talkative, and almost cheerful. But +Sunday had been a fatal day. Two gendarmes had carried him to +Boiscoran to take off the seals; and on his way out he had been +overwhelmed with insults and curses by the people who had recognized +him. He had come back terribly distressed. + +On Tuesday, he had received Dionysia's letter, and answered it. This +had excited him fearfully, and, during a part of the night, Trumence +had seen him walk up and down in his cell with all the gestures and +incoherent imprecations of a madman. + +He had hoped for a letter on Wednesday. When none came, he had sunk +into a kind of stupor, during which M. Galpin had been unable to draw +a word from him. He had taken nothing all day long but a little broth +and a cup of coffee. When the magistrate left him, he had sat down, +leaning his head on his elbows, facing the window; and there he had +remained, never moving, and so deeply absorbed in his reveries, that +he had taken no notice when they brought him light. He was still in +this state, when, a little after ten o'clock, he heard the grating of +the bolts of his cell. He had become so well acquainted with the +prison that he knew all its regulations. He knew at what hours his +meals were brought, at what time Trumence came to clean up his room, +and when he might expect the magistrate. After night, he knew he was +his own master till next morning. So late a visit therefore, must +needs bring him some unexpected news, his liberty, perhaps,--that +visitor for whom all prisoners look so anxiously. + +He started up. As soon as he distinguished in the darkness the +jailer's rugged face, he asked eagerly,-- + +"Who wants me?" + +Blangin bowed. He was a polite jailer. Then he replied,-- + +"Sir, I bring you a visitor." + +And, moving aside, he made way for Dionysia, or, rather, he pushed her +into the room; for she seemed to have lost all power to move. + +"A visitor?" repeated M. de Boiscoran. + +But the jailer had raised his lantern, and the poor man could +recognize his betrothed. + +"You," he cried, "you here!" + +And he drew back, afraid of being deceived by a dream, or one of those +fearful hallucinations which announce the coming of insanity, and take +hold of the brains of sick people in times of over-excitement. + +"Dionysia!" he barely whispered, "Dionysia!" + +If not her own life (for she cared nothing for that), but Jacques's +life, had at that moment depended on a single word, Dionysia could not +have uttered it. Her throat was parched, and her lips refused to move. +The jailer took it upon himself to answer,-- + +"Yes," he said, "Miss Chandore." + +"At this hour, in my prison!" + +"She had something important to communicate to you. She came to me"-- + +"O Dionysia!" stammered Jacques, "what a precious friend"-- + +"And I agreed," said Blangin in a paternal tone of voice, "to bring +her in secretly. It is a great sin I commit; and if it ever should +become known-- But one may be ever so much a jailer, one has a heart, +after all. I tell you so merely because the young lady might not think +of it. If the secret is not kept carefully, I should lose my place, +and I am a poor man, with wife and children." + +"You are the best of men!" exclaimed M. de Boiscoran, far from +suspecting the price that had been paid for Blangin's sympathy, "and, +on the day on which I regain my liberty, I will prove to you that we +whom you have obliged are not ungrateful." + +"Quite at your service," replied the jailer modestly. + +Gradually, however, Dionysia had recovered her self-possession. She +said gently to Blangin,-- + +"Leave us now, my good friend." + +As soon as he had disappeared, and without allowing M. de Boiscoran to +say a word, she said, speaking very low,-- + +"Jacques, grandpapa has told me, that by coming thus to you at night, +alone, and in secret, I run the risk of losing your affection, and of +diminishing your respect." + +"Ah, you did not think so!" + +"Grandpapa has more experience than I have, Jacques. Still I did not +hesitate. Here I am; and I should have run much greater risks; for +your honor is at stake, and your honor is my honor, as your life is my +life. Your future is at stake, /our/ future, our happiness, all our +hopes here below." + +Inexpressible joy had illumined the prisoner's face. + +"O God!" he cried, "one such moment pays for years of torture." + +But Dionysia had sworn to herself, as she came, that nothing should +turn her aside from her purpose. So she went on,-- + +"By the sacred memory of my mother, I assure you, Jacques, that I have +never for a moment doubted your innocence." + +The unhappy man looked distressed. + +"You," he said; "but the others? But M. de Chandore?" + +"Do you think I would be here, if he thought you were guilty? My aunts +and your mother are as sure of it as I am." + +"And my father? You said nothing about him in your letter." + +"Your father remained in Paris in case some influence in high quarters +should have to be appealed to." + +Jacque shook his head, and said,-- + +"I am in prison at Sauveterre, accused of a fearful crime, and my +father remains in Paris! It must be true that he never really loved +me. And yet I have always been a good son to him down to this terrible +catastrophe. He has never had to complain of me. No, my father does +not love me." + +Dionysia could not allow him to go off in this way. + +"Listen to me, Jacques," she said: "let me tell you why I ran the risk +of taking this serious step, that may cost me so dear. I come to you +in the name of all your friends, in the name of M. Folgat, the great +advocate whom your mother has brought down from Paris and in the name +of M. Magloire, in whom you put so much confidence. They all agree you +have adopted an abominable system. By refusing obstinately to speak, +you rush voluntarily into the gravest danger. Listen well to what I +tell you. If you wait till the examination is over, you are lost. If +you are once handed over to the court, it is too late for you to +speak. You will only, innocent as you are, make one more on the list +of judicial murders." + +Jacques de Boiscoran had listened to Dionysia in silence, his head +bowed to the ground, as if to conceal its pallor from her. As soon as +she stopped, all out of breath, he murmured,-- + +"Alas! Every thing you tell me I have told myself more than once." + +"And you did not speak?" + +"I did not." + +"Ah, Jacques, you are not aware of the danger you run! You do not +know"-- + +"I know," he said, interrupting her in a harsh, hoarse voice,--"I know +that the scaffold, or the galleys, are at the end." + +Dionysia was petrified with horror. + +Poor girl! She had imagined that she would only have to show herself +to triumph over Jacques's obstinacy, and that, as soon as she had +heard what he had to say, she would feel reassured. And instead of +that-- + +"What a misfortune!" she cried. "You have taken up these fearful +notions, and you will not abandon them!" + +"I must keep silent." + +"You cannot. You have not considered!--" + +"Not considered," he repeated. + +And in a lower tone he added,-- + +"And what do you think I have been doing these hundred and thirty +mortal hours since I have been alone in this prison,--alone to +confront a terrible accusation, and a still more terrible emergency?" + +"That is the difficulty, Jacques: you are the victim of your own +imagination. And who could help it in your place? M. Folgat said so +only yesterday. There is no man living, who, after four days' close +confinement, can keep his mind cool. Grief and solitude are bad +counsellors. Jacques, come to yourself; listen to your dearest friends +who speak to you through me. Jacques, your Dionysia beseeches you. +Speak!" + +"I cannot." + +"Why not?" + +She waited for some seconds; and, as he did not reply, she said, not +without a slight accent of bitterness in her voice,-- + +"Is it not the first duty of an innocent man to establish his +innocence?" + +The prisoner, with a movement of despair, clasped his hands over his +brow. Then bending over Dionysia, so that she felt his breath in her +hair, he said,-- + +"And when he cannot, when he cannot, establish his innocence?" + +She drew back, pale unto death, tottering so that she had to lean +against the wall, and cast upon Jacques de Boiscoran glances in which +the whole horror of her soul was clearly expressed. + +"What do you say?" she stammered. "O God!" + +He laughed, the wretched man! with that laugh which is the last +utterance of despair. And then he replied,-- + +"I say that there are circumstances which upset our reason; unheard-of +circumstances, which could make one doubt of one's self. I say that +every thing accuses me, that every thing overwhelms me, that every +thing turns against me. I say, that if I were in M. Galpin's place, +and if he were in mine, I should act just as he does." + +"That is insanity!" cried Dionysia. + +But Jacques de Boiscoran did not hear her. All the bitterness of the +last days rose within him: he turned red, and became excited. At last, +with gasping vice, he broke forth,-- + +"Establish my innocence! Ah! that is easily said. But how? No, I am +not guilty: but a crime has been committed; and for this crime justice +will have a culprit. If it is not I who fired at Count Claudieuse, and +set Valpinson on fire, who is it? 'Where were you,' they ask me, 'at +the time of the murder?' Where was I? Can I tell it? To clear myself +is to accuse others. And if I should be mistaken? Or if, not being +mistaken, I should be unable to prove the truthfulness of my +accusation? The murderer and the incendiary, of course, took all +possible precautions to escape detection, and to let the punishment +fall upon me. I was warned beforehand. Ah, if we could always foresee, +could know beforehand! How can I defend myself? On the first day I +said, 'Such a charge cannot reach me: it is a cloud that a breath will +scatter.' Madman that I was! The cloud has become an avalanche, and I +may be crushed. I am neither a child nor a coward; and I have always +met phantoms face to face. I have measured the danger, and I know it +is fearful." + +Dionysia shuddered. She cried,-- + +"What will become of us?" + +This time M. de Boiscoran heard her, and was ashamed of his weakness. +But, before he could master his feelings, the young girl went on, +saying,-- + +"But never mind. These are idle thoughts. Truth soars invincible, +unchangeable, high above all the ablest calculations and the most +skilful combinations. Jacques, you must tell the truth, the whole +truth, without subterfuge or concealment." + +"I can do so no longer," murmured he. + +"Is it such a terrible secret?" + +"It is improbable." + +Dionysia looked at him almost with fear. She did not recognize his old +face, nor his eye, nor the tone of his voice. She drew nearer to him, +and taking his hand between her own small white hands, she said,-- + +"But you can tell it to me, your friend, your"-- + +He trembled, and, drawing back, he said,-- + +"To you less than anybody else." + +And, feeling how mortifying such an answer must be, he added,-- + +"Your mind is too pure for such wretched intrigues. I do not want your +wedding-dress to be stained by a speck of that mud into which they +have thrown me." + +Was she deceived? No; but she had the courage to seem to be deceived. +She went on quietly,-- + +"Very well, then. But the truth will have to be told sooner or later." + +"Yes, to M. Magloire." + +"Well, then, Jacques, write down at once what you mean to tell him. +Here are pen and ink: I will carry it to him faithfully." + +"There are things, Dionysia, which cannot be written." + +She felt she was beaten; she understood that nothing would ever bend +that iron will, and yet she said once more,-- + +"But if I were to beseech you, Jacques, by our past and our future, by +that great and eternal love which you have sworn?" + +"Do you really wish to make my prison hours a thousand times harder +than they are? Do you want to deprive me of my last remnant of +strength and of courage? Have you really no confidence in me any +longer? Could you not believe me a few days more?" + +He paused. Somebody knocked at the door; and almost at the same time +Blangin the jailer called out through the wicket,-- + +"Time is passing. I want to be down stairs when they relieve guard. I +am running a great risk. I am a father of a family." + +"Go home now, Dionysia," said Jacques eagerly, "go home. I cannot +think of your being seen here." + +Dionysia had paid dear enough to know that she was quite safe; still +she did not object. She offered her brow to Jacques, who touched it +with his lips; and half dead, holding on to the walls, she went back +to the jailer's little room. They had made up a bed for her, and she +threw herself on it, dressed as she was, and remained there, +immovable, as if she had been dead, overcome by a kind of stupor which +deprived her even of the faculty of suffering. + +It was bright daylight, it was eight o'clock, when she felt somebody +pulling her sleeve. The jailer's wife said to her,-- + +"My dear young lady, this would be a good time for you to slip away. +Perhaps they will wonder to see you alone in the street; but they will +think you are coming home from seven o'clock mass." + +Without saying a word, Dionysia jumped down, and in a moment she had +arranged her hair and her dress. Then Blangin came, rather troubled at +not seeing her leave the house; and she said to him, giving him one of +the thousand-franc rolls that were still in her bag,-- + +"This is for you: I want you to remember me, if I should need you +again." + +And, dropping her veil over her face, she went away. + + + + XI. + +Baron Chandore had had one terrible night in his life, every minute of +which he had counted by the ebbing pulse of his only son. + +The evening before, the physicians had said,-- + +"If he lives this night, he may be saved." + +At daybreak he had expired. + +Well, the old gentleman had hardly suffered more during that fatal +night than he did this night, during which Dionysia was away from the +house. He knew very well that Blangin and his wife were honest people, +in spite of their avarice and their covetousness; he knew that Jacques +de Boiscoran was an honourable man. + +But still, during the whole night, his old servant heard him walk up +and down his room; and at seven o'clock in the morning he was at the +door, looking anxiously up and down the street. Towards half-past +seven, M. Folgat came up; but he hardly wished him good-morning, and +he certainly did not hear a word of what the lawyer told him to +reassure him. At last, however, the old man cried,-- + +"Ah, there she is!" + +He was not mistaken. Dionysia was coming round the corner. She came up +to the house in feverish haste, as if she had known that her strength +was at an end, and would barely suffice to carry her to the door. + +Grandpapa Chandore met her with a kind of fierce joy, pressed her in +his arms, and said over and over again,-- + +"O Dionysia! Oh, my darling child, how I have suffered! How long you +have been! But it is all over now. Come, come, come!" + +And he almost carried her into the parlor, and put her down tenderly +into a large easy-chair. He knelt down by her, smiling with happiness; +but, when he had taken her hands in his, he said,-- + +"Your hands are burning. You have a fever!" + +He looked at her: she had raised her veil. + +"You are pale as death!" he went on. "Your eyes are red and swollen!" + +"I have cried, dear papa," she replied gently. + +"Cried! Why?" + +"Alas, I have failed!" + +As if moved by a sudden shock, M. de Chandore started up, and cried,-- + +"By God's holy name the like has not been heard since the world was +made! What! you went, you Dionysia de Chandore, to him in his prison; +you begged him"-- + +"And he remained inflexible. Yes, dear papa. He will say nothing till +after the preliminary investigation is over." + +"We were mistaken in the man: he has no courage and no feeling." + +Dionysia had risen painfully, and said feebly,-- + +"Ah, dear papa! Do not blame him, do not accuse him! he is so +unhappy!" + +"But what reasons does he give?" + +"He says the facts are so very improbable that he should certainly not +be believed; and that he should ruin himself if he were to speak as +long as he is kept in close confinement, and has no advocate. He says +his position is the result of a wicked conspiracy. He says he thinks +he knows the guilty one, and that he will denounce the person, since +he is forced to do so in self-defence." + +M. Folgat, who had until now remained a silent witness of the scene, +came up, and asked,-- + +"Are you quite sure, madam, that that was what M. de Boiscoran said?" + +"Oh, quite sure, sir! And, if I lived a thousand years, I should never +forget the look of his eyes, or the tone of his voice." + +M. de Chandore did not allow her to be interrupted again. + +"But surely, my dear child, Jacques told you--you--something more +precise?" + +"No." + +"You did not ask him even what those improbable facts were?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"Well?" + +"He said that I was the very last person who could be told." + +"That man ought to be burnt over a slow fire," said M. de Chandore to +himself. Then he added in a louder voice,-- + +"And you do not think all this very strange, very extraordinary?" + +"It seems to me horrible!" + +"I understand. But what do you think of Jacques?" + +"I think, dear papa, that he cannot act otherwise, or he would not do +it. Jacques is too intelligent and too courageous to deceive himself +easily. As he alone knows every thing, he alone can judge. I, of +course, am bound to respect his will more than anybody else." + +But the old gentleman did not think himself bound to respect it; and, +exasperated as he was by this resignation of his grandchild, he was on +the point of telling her his mind fully, when she got up with some +effort, and said, in an almost inaudible voice,-- + +"I am broken to pieces! Excuse me, grandpapa, if I go to my room." She +left the parlor. M. de Chandore accompanied her to the door, remained +there till he had seen her get up stairs, where her maid was waiting +for her, and then came back to M. Folgat. + +"They are going to kill me, sir!" he cried, with an explosion of wrath +and despair which was almost frightful in a man of his age. "She had +in her eyes the same look that her mother had when she told me, after +her husband's death, 'I shall not survive him.' And she did not +survive my poor son. And then I, old man, was left alone with that +child; and who knows but she may have in her the germ of the same +disease which killed her mother? Alone! And for these twenty years I +have held my breath to listen if she is still breathing as naturally +and regularly"-- + +"You are needlessly alarmed," began the advocate. + +But Grandpapa Chandore shook his head, and said,-- + +"No, no. I fear my child has been hurt in her heart's heart. Did you +not see how white she looked, and how faint her voice was? Great God! +wilt thou leave me all alone here upon earth? O God! for which of my +sins dost thou punish me in my children? For mercy's sake, call me +home before she also leaves me, who is the joy of my life. And I can +do nothing to turn aside this fatality--stupid inane old man that I +am! And this Jacques de Boiscoran--if he were guilty, after all? Ah +the wretch! I would hang him with my own hands!" + +Deeply moved, M. Folgat had watched the old gentleman's grief. Now he +said,-- + +"Do not blame M. de Boiscoran, sir, now that every thing is against +him! Of all of us, he suffers, after all, most; for he is innocent." + +"Do you still think so?" + +"More than ever. Little as he has said, he has told Miss Dionysia +enough to confirm me in my conjecture, and to prove to me that I have +guessed right." + +"When?" + +"The day we went to Boiscoran." + +The baron tried to remember. + +"I do not recollect," he said. + +"Don't you remember," said the lawyer, "that you left us, so as to +permit Anthony to answer my questions more freely?" + +"To be sure!" cried M. de Chandore, "to be sure! And then you +thought"-- + +"I thought I had guessed right, yes, sir; but I am not going to do any +thing now. M. de Boiscoran tells us that the facts are improbable. I +should, therefore, in all probability, soon be astray; but, since we +are now bound to be passive till the investigation is completed, I +shall employ the time in examining the country people, who will, +probably, tell me more than Anthony did. You have, no doubt, among +your friends, some who must be well informed,--M. Seneschal, Dr. +Seignebos." + +The latter did not keep M. Folgat waiting long; for his name had +hardly been mentioned, when he himself repeated it in the passage, +telling a servant,-- + +"Say it is I, Dr. Seignebos, Dr. Seignebos." + +He fell like a bombshell into the room. It was four days now since he +had last presented himself there; for he had not come himself for his +report and the shot he had left in M. Folgat's hands. He had sent for +them, excusing himself on the score of his many engagements. The fact +was, however, that he had spent nearly the whole of these four days at +the hospital, in company with one of his brother-practitioners, who +had been sent for by the court to proceed, "jointly with Dr. +Seignebos," to an examination of Cocoleu's mental condition. + +"And this is what brings me here," he cried, still in the door; "for +this opinion, if it is not put into proper order, will deprive M. de +Boiscoran of his best and surest chance of escape." + +After what Dionysia had told them, neither M. de Chandore nor M. +Folgat attached much importance to the state of Cocoleu's mind: still +this word "escape" attracted their attention. There is nothing +unimportant in a criminal trial. + +"Is there any thing new?" asked the advocate. + +The doctor first went to close the doors carefully, and then, putting +his cane and broad-brimmed hat upon the table, he said,-- + +"No, there is nothing new. They still insist, as before, upon ruining +M. de Boiscoran; and, in order to do that, they shrink from nothing." + +"They! Who are they?" asked M. de Chandore. + +The doctor shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. + +"Are you really in doubt, sir?" he replied. "And yet the facts speak +clearly enough. In this department, there is a certain number of +physicians who are not very keenly alive to the honor of their +profession, and who are, to tell the truth, consummate apes." + +Grave as the situation was, M. Folgat could hardly suppress a smile, +the doctor's manner was so very extraordinary. + +"But there is one of these apes," he went on, "who, in length of ears +and thickness of skin, surpasses all the others. Well, he is the very +one whom the court has chosen and associated with me." + +Upon this subject it was desirable to put a check upon the doctor. M. +de Chandore therefore interrupted him, saying,-- + +"In fine"-- + +"In fine, my learned brother is fully persuaded that his mission as a +physician employed by a court of justice is to say 'Amen' to all the +stories of the prosecution. 'Cocoleu is an idiot,' says M. Galpin +peremptorily. 'He is an idiot, or ought to be one,' reechoes my +learned brother. 'He spoke on the occasion of the crime by an +inspiration from on high,' the magistrate goes on to say. 'Evidently,' +adds the brother, 'there was an inspiration from on high.' For this is +the conclusion at which my learned brother arrives in his report: +'Cocoleu is an idiot who had been providentially inspired by a flash +of reason.' He does not say it in these words; but it amounts to the +same thing." + +He had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them industriously. + +"But what do you think, doctor?" asked M. Folgat. + +Dr. Seignebos solemnly put on again his spectacles, and replied +coldly,-- + +"My opinion, which I have fully developed in my report, is, that +Cocoleu is not idiotic at all." + +M. Chandore started: the proposition seemed to him monstrous. He knew +Cocoleu very well; he had seen him wander through the streets of +Sauveterre during the eighteen months which the poor creature had +spent under the doctor's treatment. + +"What! Cocoleu not idiotic?" he repeated. + +"No!" Dr. Seignebos declared peremptorily; "and you have only to look +at him to be convinced. Has he a large flat face, disproportionate +mouth, a yellow, tanned complexion, thick lips, defective teeth, and +squinting eyes? Does his deformed head sway from side to side, being +too heavy to be supported by his neck? Is his body deformed, and his +spine crooked? Do you find that his stomach is big and pendent, that +his hands drop upon his thighs, that his legs are awkward, and the +joints unusually large? These are the symptoms of idiocy, gentleman, +and you do not find them in Cocoleu. I, for my part, see in him a +scamp, who has an iron constitution, who uses his hands very cleverly, +climbs trees like a monkey, and leaps ditches ten feet wide. To be +sure, I do not pretend that his intellect is normal; but I maintain +that he is one of those imbeciles who have certain faculties very +fully developed, while others, more essential, are missing." + +While M. Folgat listened with the most intense interest, M. de +Chandore became impatient, and said,-- + +"The difference between an idiot and an imbecile"-- + +"There is a world between them," cried the doctor. + +And at once he went on with overwhelming volubility,-- + +"The imbecile preserves some fragments of intelligence. He can speak, +make known his wants, and express his feelings. He associates ideas, +compares impressions, remembers things, and acquires experience. He is +capable of cunning and dissimulation. He hates and likes and fears. If +he is not always sociable, he is susceptible of being influenced by +others. You can easily obtain perfect control over him. His +inconsistency is remarkable; and still he shows, at times, invincible +obstinacy. Finally, imbeciles are, on account of this semi-lucidity, +often very dangerous. You find among them almost all those monomaniacs +whom society is compelled to shut up in asylums, because they cannot +master their instincts." + +"Very well said," repeated M. Folgat, who found here some elements of +a plea,--"very well said," + +The doctor bowed. + +"Such a creature is Cocoleu. Does it follow that I hold him +responsible for his actions? By no means! But it follows that I look +upon him as a false witness brought forth to ruin an honest man." + +It was evident that such views did not please M. de Chandore. + +"Formerly," he said, "you did not think so." + +"No, I even said the contrary," replied Dr. Seignebos, not without +dignity. "I had not studied Cocoleu sufficiently, and I was taken in +by him: I confess it openly. But this avowal of mine is an evidence of +the cunning and the astute obstinacy of these wretched creatures, and +of their capacity to carry out a design. After a year's experience, I +sent Cocoleu away, declaring, and certainly believing, that he was +incurable. The fact is, he did not want to be cured. The country- +people, who observe carefully and shrewdly, were not taken in; they +will tell you, almost to a man, that Cocoleu is bad, but not an idiot. +That is the truth. He has found out, that, by exaggerating his +imbecility, he could live without work; and he has done it. When he +was taken in by Count Claudieuse, he was clever enough to show just so +much intelligence as was necessary to make him endurable, without +being compelled to do any work." + +"In a word," said M. de Chandore incredulously, "Cocoleu is a great +actor." + +"Great enough to have deceived me," replied the doctor: "yes, sir." + +Then turning to M. Folgat, he went on,-- + +"All this I had told my learned brother, before taking him to the +hospital. There we found Cocoleu more obstinate than ever in his +silence, which even M. Galpin had not induced him to break. All our +efforts to obtain a word from him were fruitless, although it was very +evident to me that he understood very well. I proposed to resort to +quite legitimate means, which are employed to discover feigned defects +and diseases; but my learned brother refused and was encouraged in his +resistance by M. Galpin: I do not know upon what ground. Then I asked +that the Countess Claudieuse should be sent for, as she has a talent +of making him talk. M. Galpin would not permit it--and there we are." + +It happens almost daily, that two physicians employed as experts +differ in their opinions. The courts would have a great deal to do, if +they had to force them to agree. They appoint simply a third expert, +whose opinion is decisive. This was necessarily to be done in +Cocoleu's case. + +"And as necessarily," continued Dr. Seignebos, "the court, having +appointed a first ass, will associate with me a second ass. They will +agree with each other, and I shall be accused and convicted of +ignorance and presumption." + +He came, therefore, as he now said, to ask M. de Chandore to render +him a little service. He wanted the two families, Chandore and +Boiscoran, to employ all their influence to obtain that a commission +of physicians from outside--if possible, from Paris--should be +appointed to examine Cocoleu, and to report on his mental condition. + +"I undertake," he said, "to prove to really enlightened men, that this +poor creature is partly pretending to be imbecile, and that his +obstinate speechlessness is only adopted in order to avoid answers +which would compromise him." + +At first, however, neither M. de Chandore nor M. Folgat gave any +answer. They were considering the question. + +"Mind," said the doctor again, shocked at their silence, "mind, I +pray, that if my view is adopted, as I have every reason to hope, a +new turn will be given to the whole case." + +Why yes! The ground of the accusation might be taken from under the +prosecution; and that was what kept M. Folgat thinking. + +"And that is exactly," he commenced at last, "what makes me ask myself +whether the discovery of Cocoleu's rascality would not be rather +injurious than beneficial to M. de Boiscoran." + +The doctor was furious. He cried,-- + +"I should like to know"-- + +"Nothing can be more simple," replied the advocate. "Cocoleu's idiocy +is, perhaps the most serious difficulty in the way of the prosecution, +and the most powerful argument for the defence. What can M. Galpin +say, if M. de Boiscoran charges him with basing a capital charge upon +the incoherent words of a creature void of intelligence, and, +consequently, irresponsible." + +"Ah! permit me," said Dr. Seignebos. + +But M. de Chandore heard every syllable. + +"Permit yourself, doctor," he said. "This argument of Cocoleu's +imbecility is one which you have pleaded from the beginning, and which +appeared to you, you said, so conclusive, that there was no need of +looking for any other." + +Before the doctor could find an answer, M. Folgat went on,-- + +"Let it be, on the contrary, established that Cocoleu really knows +what he says, and all is changed. The prosecution is justified, by an +opinion of the faculty, in saying to M. de Boiscoran, 'You need not +deny any longer. You have been seen; here is a witness.' " + +These arguments must have struck Dr. Seignebos very forcibly; for he +remained silent for at least ten long seconds, wiping his gold +spectacles with a pensive air. Had he really done harm to Jacques de +Boiscoran, while he meant to help him? But he was not the man to be +long in doubt. He replied in a dry tone,-- + +"I will not discuss that, gentlemen. I will ask you, only one +question: 'Yes or no, do you believe in M. de Boiscoran's +innocence?' " + +"We believe in it fully," replied the two men. + +"Then, gentlemen, it seems to me we are running no risk in trying to +unmask an impostor." + +That was not the young lawyer's opinion. + +"To prove that Cocoleu knows what he says," he replied, "would be +fatal, unless we can prove at the same time that he has told a +falsehood, and that his evidence has been prompted by others. Can we +prove that? Have we any means to prove that his obstinacy in not +replying to any questions arises from his fear that his answers might +convict him of perjury?" + +The doctor would hear nothing more. He said rather uncourteously,-- + +"Lawyer's quibbles! I know only one thing; and that is truth." + +"It will not always do to tell it," murmured the lawyer. + +"Yes, sir, always," replied the physician,--"always, and at all +hazards, and whatever may happen. I am M. de Boiscoran's friend; but I +am still more the friend of truth. If Cocoleu is a wretched impostor, +as I am firmly convinced, our duty is to unmask him." + +Dr. Seignebos did not say--and he probably did not confess it to +himself--that it was a personal matter between Cocoleu and himself. He +thought Cocoleu had taken him in, and been the cause of a host of +small witticisms, under which he had suffered cruelly, though he had +allowed no one to see it. To unmask Cocoleu would have given him his +revenge, and return upon his enemies the ridicule with which they had +overwhelmed him. + +"I have made up my mind," he said, "and, whatever you may resolve, I +mean to go to work at once, and try to obtain the appointment of a +commission." + +"It might be prudent," M. Folgat said, "to consider before doing any +thing, to consult with M. Magloire." + +"I do not want to consult with Magloire when duty calls." + +"You will grant us twenty-four hours, I hope." + +Dr. Seignebos frowned till he looked formidable. + +"Not an hour," he replied; "and I go from here to M. Daubigeon, the +commonwealth attorney." + +Thereupon, taking his hat and cane, he bowed and left, as dissatisfied +as possible, without stopping even to answer M. de Chandore, who asked +him how Count Claudieuse was, who was, according to reports in town, +getting worse and worse. + +"Hang the old original!" cried M. de Chandore before the doctor had +left the passage. + +Then turning to M. Folgat, he added,-- + +"I must, however, confess that you received the great news which he +brought rather coldly." + +"The very fact of the news being so very grave," replied the advocate, +"made me wish for time to consider. If Cocoleu pretends to be +imbecile, or, at least, exaggerates his incapacity, then we have a +confirmation of what M. de Boiscoran last night told Miss Dionysia. It +would be the proof of an odious trap of a long-premeditated vengeance. +Here is the turning-point of the affair evidently." + +M. de Chandore was bitterly undeceived. + +"What!" he said, "you think so, and you refuse to support Dr. +Seignebos, who is certainly an honest man?" + +The young lawyer shook his head. + +"I wanted to have twenty-four hours' delay, because we must absolutely +consult M. de Boiscoran. Could I tell the doctor so? Had I a right to +take him into Miss Dionysia's secret?" + +"You are right," murmured M. de Chandore, "you are right." + +But, in order to write to M. de Boiscoran, Dionysia's assistance was +necessary; and she did not reappear till the afternoon, looking very +pale, but evidently armed with new courage. + +M. Folgat dictated to her certain questions to ask the prisoner. + +She hastened to write them in cipher; and about four o'clock the +letter was sent to Mechinet, the clerk. + +The next evening the answer came. + + "Dr. Seignebos is no doubt right, my dear friends," wrote Jacques. + "I have but too good reasons to be sure that Cocoleu's imbecility + is partly assumed, and that his evidence has been prompted by + others. Still I must beg you will take no steps that would lead + to another medical investigation. The slightest imprudence may + ruin me. For Heaven's sake wait till the end of the preliminary + investigation, which is now near at hand, from what M. Galpin + tells me." + +The letter was read in the family circle; and the poor mother uttered +a cry of despair as she heard those words of resignation. + +"Are we going to obey him," she said, "when we all know that he is +ruining himself by his obstinacy?" + +Dionysia rose, and said,-- + +"Jacques alone can judge his situation, and he alone, therefore, has +the right to command. Our duty is to obey. I appeal to M. Folgat." + +The young advocate nodded his head. + +"Every thing has been done that could be done," he said. "Now we can +only wait." + + + + XII. + +The famous night of the fire at Valpinson had been a godsend to the +good people of Sauveterre. They had henceforth an inexhaustible topic +of discussion, ever new and ever rich in unexpected conjectures,--the +Boiscoran case. When people met in the streets, they simply asked,-- + +"What are they doing now?" + +Whenever, therefore, M. Galpin went from the court-house to the +prison, or came striding up National Street with his stiff, slow step, +twenty good housewives peeped from behind their curtains to read in +his face some of the secrets of the trial. They saw, however, nothing +there but traces of intense anxiety, and a pallor which became daily +more marked. They said to each other,-- + +"You will see poor M. Galpin will catch the jaundice from it." + +The expression was commonplace; but it conveyed exactly the feelings +of the ambitious lawyer. This Boiscoran case had become like a +festering wound to him, which irritated him incessantly and +intolerably. + +"I have lost my sleep by it," he told the commonwealth attorney. +Excellent M. Daubigeon, who had great trouble in moderating his zeal, +did not pity him particularly. He would say in reply,-- + +"Whose fault is it? But you want to rise in the world; and increasing +fortune is always followed by increasing care. + +"Ah!" said the magistrate. "I have only done my duty, and, if I had to +begin again, I would do just the same." + +Still every day he saw more clearly that he was in a false position. +Public opinion, strongly arrayed against M. de Boiscoran, was not, on +that account, very favorable to him. Everybody believed Jacques +guilty, and wanted him to be punished with all the rigor of the law; +but, on the other hand, everybody was astonished that M. Galpin should +choose to act as magistrate in such a case. There was a touch of +treachery in this proceeding against a former friend, in looking +everywhere for evidence against him, in driving him into court, that +is to say, towards the galleys or the scaffold; and this revolted +people's consciences. + +The very way in which people returned his greeting, or avoided him +altogether, made the magistrate aware of the feelings they entertained +for him. This only increased his wrath against Jacques, and, with it +his trouble. He had been congratulated, it is true, by the attorney- +general; but there is no certainty in a trial, as long as the accused +refuses to confess. The charges against Jacques, to be sure, were so +overwhelming, that his being sent before the court was out of +question. But by the side of the court there is still the jury. + +"And in fine, my dear," said the commonwealth attorney, "you have not +a single eye-witness. And from time immemorial an eye-witness has been +looked upon as worth a hundred hearsays." + +"I have Cocoleu," said M. Galpin, who was rather impatient of all +these objections. + +"Have the doctors decided that he is not an idiot?" + +"No: Dr. Seignebos alone maintains that doctrine." + +"Well, at least Cocoleu is willing to repeat his evidence?" + +"No." + +"Why, then you have virtually no witness!" + +Yes, M. Galpin understood it but too well, and hence his anxiety. The +more he studied /his/ accused, the more he found him in an enigmatic +and threatening position, which was ominous of evil. + +"Can he have an /alibi/?" he thought. "Or does he hold in reserve one +of those unforeseen revelations, which at the last moment destroy the +whole edifice of the prosecution, and cover the prosecuting attorney +with ridicule?" + +Whenever these thoughts occurred to him, they made big drops of +perspiration run down his temples; and then he treated his poor clerk +Mechinet like a slave. And that was not all. Although he lived more +retired than ever, since this case had begun, many a report reached +him from the Chandore family. + +To be sure, he was a thousand miles from imagining that they had +actually opened communications with the prisoner, and, what is more, +that this intercourse was carried on by Mechinet, his own clerk. He +would have laughed if one had come and told him that Dionysia had +spent a night in prison, and paid Jacques a visit. But he heard +continually of the hopes and the plans of the friends and relations of +his prisoner; and he remembered, not without secret fear and trembling +that they were rich and powerful, supported by relations in high +places, beloved and esteemed by everybody. He knew that Dionysia was +surrounded by devoted and intelligent men, by M. de Chandore, M. +Seneschal, Dr. Seignebos, M. Magloire, and, finally, that advocate +whom the Marchioness de Boiscoran had brought down with her from +Paris, M. Folgat. + +"And Heaven knows what they would not try," he thought, "to rescue the +guilty man from the hands of justice!" + +It may well be said, therefore, that never was prosecution carried on +with as much passionate zeal or as much minute assiduity. Every one of +the points upon which the prosecution relied became, for M. Galpin, a +subject of special study. In less than a fortnight he examined sixty- +seven witnesses in his office. He summoned the fourth part of the +population of Brechy. He would have summoned the whole country, if he +had dared. + +But all his efforts were fruitless. After weeks of furious +investigations, the inquiry was still at the same point, the mystery +was still impenetrable. The prisoner had not refuted any of the +charges made against him; but the magistrate had, also, not obtained a +single additional piece of evidence after those he had secured on the +first day. + +There must be an end of this, however. + +One warm afternoon in July, the good ladies in National Street thought +they noticed that M. Galpin looked even more anxious than usual. They +were right. After a long conference with the commonwealth attorney and +the presiding judge, the magistrate had made up his mind. When he +reached the prison, he went to Jacques's cell and there, concealing +his embarrassment under the greatest stiffness, he said,-- + +"My painful duty draws to an end, sir: the inquiry with which I have +been charged will be closed. To-morrow the papers, with a list of the +objects to be used as evidence, will be sent to the attorney-general, +to be submitted to the court." + +Jacques de Boiscoran did not move. + +"Well," he said simply. + +"Have you nothing to add, sir?" asked M. Galpin. + +"Nothing, except that I am innocent." + +M. Galpin found it difficult to repress his impatience. He said,-- + +"Well, then, prove it. Refute the charges which have been brought +against you, which overwhelm you, which induce me, the court, and +everybody else, to consider you guilty. Speak, and explain your +conduct." + +Jacques kept obstinately silent. + +"Your resolution is fixed," said the magistrate once more, "you refuse +to say any thing?" + +"I am innocent." + +M. Galpin saw clearly that it was useless to insist any longer. + +"From this moment," he said, "you are no longer in close confinement. +You can receive the visits of your family in the prison parlor. The +advocate whom you will choose will be admitted to your cell to consult +with you." + +"At last!" exclaimed Jacques with explosive delight; and then he +added,-- + +"Am I at liberty to write to M. de Chandore?" + +"Yes," replied M. Galpin, "and, if you choose to write at once, my +clerk will be happy to carry your letter this evening to its +destination." + +Jacques de Boiscoran availed himself on the spot of this permission; +and he had done very soon, for the note which he wrote, and handed to +M. Mechinet, contained only the few words,-- + + "I shall expect M. Magloire to-morrow morning at nine. + + "J." + +Ever since the day on which they had come to the conclusion that a +false step might have the most fatal consequences, Jacques de +Boiscoran's friends had abstained from doing anything. Besides, what +would have been the use of any efforts? Dr. Seignebos's request, +though unsupported, had been at least partially granted; and the court +had summoned a physician from Paris, a great authority on insanity, to +determine Cocoleu's mental condition. It was on a Saturday that Dr. +Seignebos came triumphantly to announce the good news. It was the +following Tuesday that he had to report his discomfiture. In a furious +passion he said,-- + +"There are asses in Paris as well as elsewhere! Or, rather, in these +days of trembling egotism and eager servility, an independent man is +as difficult to find in Paris as in the provinces. I was looking for a +/savant/ who would be inaccessible to petty considerations; and they +send me a trifling fellow, who does not dare to be disagreeable to the +gentlemen of the bar. Ah, it was a cruel disappointment!" + +And all the time worrying his spectacles, he went on,-- + +"I had been informed of the arrival of my learned brother; and I went +to receive him myself at the railway station. The train comes in; and +at once I make out my man in the crowd: a fine head, well set in +grizzly hair, a noble eye, eloquent lips. 'There he is!' I say to +myself. 'Hm!' He looked rather dandyish, to be sure, a lot of +decorations in his buttonhole, whiskers trimmed as carefully as the +box in my garden, and, instead of honest spectacles, a pair of eye- +glasses. But no man is perfect. I go up to him, I give him my name, we +shake hands, I ask him to breakfast, he accepts; and here we are at +table, he doing justice to my Bordeaux, and I explaining to him the +case systematically. When we have done, he wishes to see Cocoleu. We +go to the hospital; and there, after merely glancing at the creature, +he says, 'That man is simply the most complete idiot I have ever seen +in my life!' I was a little taken aback, and tried to explain the +matter to him; but he refuses to listen to me. I beseech him to see +Cocoleu once more: he laughs at me. I feel hurt, and ask him how he +explains the evidence which this idiot gave on the night of the fire. +He laughs again, and replies that he does not explain it. I begin to +discuss the question; and he marches off to court. And do you know +where he dined that day? At the hotel with my other learned brother of +the commission; and there they drew up a report which makes of Cocoleu +the most perfect imbecile that was ever dreamed of." + +He was walking up and down in the room with long strides, and, +unwilling to listen, he went on,-- + +"But Master Galpin need not think of crowing over us yet. The end is +not yet; they will not get rid of Dr. Seignebos so easily. I have said +that Cocoleu was a wretched cheat, a miserable impostor, a false +witness, and I shall prove it. Boiscoran can count upon me." + +He broke off here, and, placing himself before M. Folgat, he added,-- + +"And I say M. de Boiscoran may count upon me, because I have my +reasons. I have formed very singular suspicions, sir,--very singular." + +M. Folgat, Dionysia, and the marchioness urged him to explain; but he +declared that the moment had not come yet, that he was not perfectly +sure yet. + +And he left again, vowing that he was overworked, that he had forsaken +his patients for forty-eight hours, and that the Countess Claudieuse +was waiting for him, as her husband was getting worse and worse. + +"What can the old man suspect?" Grandpapa Chandore asked again, an +hour after the doctor had left. + +M. Folgat might have replied that these probable suspicions were no +doubt his own suspicions, only better founded, and more fully +developed. But why should he say so, since all inquiry was prohibited, +and a single imprudent word might ruin every thing? Why, also, should +he excite new hopes, when they must needs wait patiently till it +should seem good to M. Galpin to make an end to this melancholy +suspense? + +They heard very little nowadays of Jacques de Boiscoran. The +examinations took place only at long intervals; and it was sometimes +four or five days before Mechinet brought another letter. + +"This is intolerable agony," repeated the marchioness over and over +again. + +The end was, however, approaching. + +Dionysia was alone one afternoon in the sitting-room, when she thought +she heard the clerk's voice in the hall. She went out at once and +found him there. + +"Ah!" she cried, "the investigation is ended!" For she knew very well +that nothing less would have emboldened Mechinet to show himself +openly at their house. + +"Yes, indeed, madam!" replied the good man; "and upon M. Galpin's own +order I bring you this letter from M. de Boiscoran." + +She took it, read it at a single glance, and forgetting every thing, +half delirious with joy, she ran to her grandfather and M. Folgat, +calling upon a servant at the same time to run and fetch M. Magloire. + +In less than an hour, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre arrived; and +when Jacques's letter had been handed to him, he said with some +embarrassment,-- + +"I have promised M. de Boiscoran my assistance, and he shall certainly +have it. I shall be at the prison to-morrow morning as soon as the +doors open, and I will tell you the result of our interview." + +He would say nothing more. It was very evident that he did not believe +in the innocence of his client, and, as soon as he had left, M. de +Chandore exclaimed,-- + +"Jacques is mad to intrust his defence to a man who doubts him." + +"M. Magloire is an honorable man, papa," said Dionysia; "and, if he +thought he could compromise Jacques, he would resign." + +Yes, indeed, M. Magloire was an honorable man, and quite accessible to +tender sentiments; for he felt very reluctant to go and see the +prisoner, charged as he was with an odious crime, and, as he thought, +justly charged,--a man who had been his friend, and whom, in spite of +all, he could not help loving still. + +He could not sleep for it that night; and noticed his anxious air as +he crossed the street next morning on his way to the jail. Blangin the +keeper was on the lookout for him, and cried,-- + +"Ah, come quick, sir! The accused is devoured with impatience." + +Slowly, and his heart beating furiously, the famous advocate went up +the narrow stairs. He crossed the long passage; Blangin opened a door; +he was in Jacques de Boiscoran's cell. + +"At last you are coming," exclaimed the unhappy young man, throwing +himself on the lawyer's neck. "At last I see an honest face, and hold +a trusty hand. Ah! I have suffered cruelly, so cruelly, that I am +surprised my mind has not given way. But now you are here, you are by +my side, I am safe." + +The lawyer could not speak. He was terrified by the havoc which grief +had made of the noble and intelligent face of his friend. He was +shocked at the distortion of his features, the unnatural brilliancy of +his eyes, and the convulsive laugh on his lips. + +"Poor man!" he murmured at last. + +Jacques misunderstood him: he stepped back, as white as the walls of +his cell. + +"You do not think me guilty?" he exclaimed. + +An inexpressibly sad expression convulsed his features. + +"To be sure," he went on with his terrible convulsive laughter, "the +charges must be overwhelming indeed, if they have convinced my best +friends. Alas! why did I refuse to speak that first day? My honor!-- +what a phantom! And still, victimized as I am by an infamous +conspiracy, I should still refuse to speak, if my life alone were at +stake. But my honor is at stake. Dionysia's honor, the honor of the +Boiscorans. I shall speak. You, M. Magloire, shall know the truth, you +shall see my innocence in a word." + +And, seizing M. Magloire's hand, he pressed it almost painfully, as he +added in a hoarse voice,-- + +"One word will explain the whole thing to you: I was the lover of the +Countess Claudieuse!" + + + + XIII. + +If he had been less distressed, Jacques de Boiscoran would have seen +how wisely had had acted in choosing for his defender the great +advocate of Sauveterre. A stranger, M. Folgat, for instance, would +have heard him silently, and would have seen in the revelation nothing +but the fact without giving it a personal value. In M. Magloire, on +the contrary, he saw what the whole country would feel. And M. +Magloire, when he heard him declare that the Countess Claudieuse had +been his mistress, looked indignant, and exclaimed,-- + +"That is impossible." + +At least Jacques was not surprised. He had been the first to say that +they would refuse to believe him when he should speak; and this +conviction had largely influenced him in keeping silence so long. + +"It is impossible, I know," he said; "and still it is so." + +"Give me proofs!" said M. Magloire. + +"I have no proofs." + +The melancholy and sympathizing expression of the great lawyer changed +instantly. He sternly glanced at the prisoner, and his eye spoke of +amazement and indignation. + +"There are things," he said, "which it is rash to affirm when one is +not able to support them with proof. Consider"-- + +"My situation forces me to tell all." + +"Why, then, did you wait so long?" + +"I hoped I should be spared such a fearful extremity." + +"By whom?" + +"By the countess." + +M. Magloire's face became darker and darker. + +"I am not often accused of partiality," he said. "Count Claudieuse is, +perhaps, the only enemy I have in this country; but he is a bitter, +fierce enemy. To keep me out of the chamber, and to prevent my +obtaining many votes, he stooped to acts unworthy of a gentleman. I do +not like him. But in justice I must say that I look upon the countess +as the loftiest, the purest, and noblest type of the woman, the wife, +and the mother." + +A bitter smile played on Jacques's lips. + +"And still I have been her lover," he said. + +"When? How? The countess lived at Valpinson: you lived in Paris." + +"Yes; but every year the countess came and spent the month of +September in Paris; and I came occasionally to Boiscoran." + +"It is very singular that such an intrigue should never have been +suspected even." + +"We managed to take our precautions." + +"And no one ever suspected any thing?" + +"No one." + +But Jacques was at last becoming impatient at the attitude assumed by +M. Magloire. He forgot that he had foreseen all the suspicions to +which he found now he was exposed. + +"Why do you ask all these questions?" he said. "You do not believe me. +Well, be it so! Let me at least try to convince you. Will you listen +to me?" + +M. Magloire drew up a chair, and sitting down, not as usually, but +across the chair, and resting his arms on the back, he said,-- + +"I listen." + +Jacques de Boiscoran, who had been almost livid, became crimson with +anger. His eyes flashed wrath. That he, he should be treated thus! +Never had all the haughtiness of M. Galpin offended him half as much +as this cool, disdainful condescension on the part of M. Magloire. It +occurred to him to order him out of his room. But what then? He was +condemned to drain the bitter cup to the very dregs: for he must save +himself; he must get out of this abyss. + +"You are cruel, Magloire," he said in a voice of ill-suppressed +indignation, "and you make me feel all the horrors of my situation to +the full. Ah, do not apologize! It does not matter. Let me speak." + +He walked up and down a few times in his cell, passing his hand +repeatedly over his brow, as if to recall his memory. Then he began, +in a calmer tone of voice,-- + +"It was in the first days of the month of August, in 1866, and at +Boiscoran, where I was on a visit to my uncle, that I saw the Countess +Claudieuse for the first time. Count Claudieuse and my uncle were, at +that time, on very bad terms with each other, thanks to that unlucky +little stream which crosses our estates; and a common friend, M. de +Besson, had undertaken to reconcile them at a dinner to which he had +invited both. My uncle had taken me with him. The countess had come +with her husband. I was just twenty years old; she was twenty-six. +When I saw her, I was overcome. It seemed to me that I had never in +all my life met a woman so perfectly beautiful and graceful; that I +had never seen so charming a face, such beautiful eyes, and such a +sweet smile. + +"She did not seem to notice me. I did not speak to her; and still I +felt within me a kind of presentiment that this woman would play a +great, a fatal part in my life. + +"This impression was so strong, that, as we left the house, I could +not keep from mentioning it to my uncle. He only laughed, and said +that I was a fool, and that, if my existence should ever be troubled +by a woman, it would certainly not be by the Countess Claudieuse. + +"He was apparently right. It was hard to imagine that any thing should +ever again bring me in contact with the countess. M. de Besson's +attempt at reconciliation had utterly failed; the countess lived at +Valpinson; and I went back to Paris. + +"Still I was unable to shake off the impression; and the memory of the +dinner at M. de Besson's house was still in my mind, when a month +later, at a party at my mother's brother's, M. de Chalusse, I thought +I recognized the Countess Claudieuse. It was she. I bowed, and, seeing +that she recognized me, I went up to her, trembling, and she allowed +me to sit down by her. + +"She told me then that she had come up to Paris for a month, as she +did every year, and that she was staying at her father's, the Marquis +de Tassar. She had come to this party much against her inclination, as +she disliked going out. She did not dance; and thus I talked to her +till the moment when she left. + +"I was madly in love when we parted; and still I made no effort to see +her again. It was mere chance again which brought us together. + +"One day I had business at Melun, and, reaching the station rather +late, I had but just time to jump into the nearest car. In the +compartment was the countess. She told me--and that is all I ever +recollected of the conversation--that she was on her way to +Fontainebleau to see a friend, with whom she spent every Tuesday and +Saturday. Usually she took the nine o'clock train. + +"This was on a Tuesday; and during the next three days a great +struggle went on in my heart. I was desperately in love with the +countess, and still I was afraid of her. But my evil star conquered; +and the next Saturday, at nine o'clock, I was at the station again. + +"The countess has since confessed to me that she expected me. When she +saw me, she made a sign; and, when they opened the doors, I managed to +find a place by her side." + +M. Magloire had for some minutes given signs of great impatience; now +he broke forth,-- + +"This is too improbable!" + +At first Jacques de Boiscoran made no reply. It was no easy task for a +man, tried as he had been of late, to stir up thus the ashes of the +past; and it made him shudder. He was amazed at seeing on his lips +this secret which he had so long buried in his innermost heart. +Besides, he had loved, loved in good earnest; and his love had been +returned. And there are certain sensations which come to us only once +in life, and which can never again be effaced. He was moved to tears. +But as the eminent advocate of Sauveterre repeated his words, and even +added,-- + +"No, it is not credible!" + +"I do not ask you to believe me," he said gently: "I only ask you to +hear me." + +And, overcoming with all his energy the kind of torpor which was +mastering him, he continued,-- + +"This trip to Fontainebleau decided our fate. Other trips followed. +The countess spent her days with her friend, and I passed the long +hours in roaming through the woods. But in the evening we met again at +the station. We took a /coupe/, which I had engaged beforehand, and I +accompanied her in a carriage to her father's house. + +"Finally, one evening, she left her friend's house at the usual hour; +but she did not return to her father's house till the day after." + +"Jacques!" broke in M. Magloire, shocked, as if he had heard a curse, +--"Jacques!" + +M. de Boiscoran remained unmoved. + +"Oh!" he said, "I know you must think it strange. You fancy that there +is no excuse for the man who betrays the confidence of a woman who has +once given herself to him. Wait, before you judge me." + +And he went on, in a firmer tone of voice,-- + +"At that time I thought I was the happiest man on earth; and my heart +was full of the most absurd vanity at the thought that she was mine, +this beautiful woman, whose purity was high above all calumny. I had +tied around my neck one of those fatal ropes which death alone can +sever, and, fool that I was, I considered myself happy. + +"Perhaps she really loved me at that time. At least she did not +hesitate, and, overcome by the only real great passion of her life, +she told me all that was in her innermost heart. At that time she did +not think yet of protecting herself against me, and of making me her +slave. She told me the secret of her marriage, which had at one time +created such a sensation in the whole country. + +"When her father, the Marquis de Brissac, had given up his place, he +had soon begun to feel his inactivity weigh upon him, and at the same +time he had become impatient at the narrowness of his means. He had +ventured upon hazardous speculations. He had lost every thing he had; +and even his honor was at stake. In his despair he was thinking of +suicide, when chance brought to his house a former comrade, Count +Claudieuse. In a moment of confidence, the marquis confessed every +thing; and the other had promised to rescue him, and save him from +disgrace. That was noble and grand. It must have cost an immense sum. +And the friends of our youth who are capable of rendering us such +services are rare in our day. Unfortunately, Count Claudieuse could +not all the time be the hero he had been at first. He saw Genevieve de +Tassar. He was struck with her beauty; and overcome by a sudden +passion--forgetting that she was twenty, while he was nearly fifty--he +made his friend aware that he was still willing to render him all the +services in his power, but that he desired to obtain Genevieve's hand +in return. + +"That very evening the ruined nobleman entered his daughter's room, +and, with tears in his eyes, explained to her his terrible situation. +She did not hesitate a moment. + +" 'Above all,' she said to her father, 'let us save our honor, which +even your death would not restore. Count Claudieuse is cruel to forget +that he is thirty years older than I am. From this moment I hate and +despise him. Tell him I am willing to be his wife.' + +"And when her father, overcome with grief, told her that the count +would never accept her hand in this form, she replied,-- + +" 'Oh, do not trouble yourself about that! I shall do the thing +handsomely, and your friend shall have no right to complain. But I +know what I am worth; and you must remember hereafter, that, whatever +service he may render you, you owe him nothing.' + +"Less than a fortnight after this scene, Genevieve had allowed the +count to perceive that he was not indifferent to her and a month later +she became his wife. + +"The count, on his side, had acted with the utmost delicacy and tact; +so that no one suspected the cruel position of the Marquis de Tassar. +He had placed two hundred thousand francs in his hands to settle his +most pressing debts. In his marriage-contract he had acknowledged +having received with his wife a dower of the same amount; and finally, +he had bound himself to pay to his father-in-law and his wife an +annual income of ten thousand francs. This had absorbed more than half +of all he possessed." + +M. Magloire no longer thought of protesting. Sitting stiffly on his +chair, his eyes wide open, like a man who asks himself whether he is +asleep or awake, he murmured,-- + +"That is incomprehensible! That is unheard of!" + +Jacques was becoming gradually excited. He went on,-- + +"This is, at least, what the countess told me in her first hours of +enthusiasm. But she told it to me calmly, coldly, like a thing that +was perfectly natural. 'Certainly,' she said, 'Count Claudieuse has +never had to regret the bargain he made. If he has been generous, I +have been faithful. My father owes his life to him; but I have given +him years of happiness to which he was not entitled. If he has +received no love, he has had all the appearance of it, and an +appearance far more pleasant than the reality.' + +"When I could not conceal my astonishment, she added, laughing +heartily,-- + +" 'Only I brought to the bargain a mental reservation. I reserved to +myself the right to claim my share of earthly happiness whenever it +should come within my reach. That share is yours, Jacques; and do not +fancy that I am troubled by remorse. As long as my husband thinks he +is happy, I am within the terms of the contract.' + +"That was the way she spoke at that time, Magloire; and a man of more +experience would have been frightened. But I was a child; I loved her +with all my heart. I admired her genius; I was overcome by her +sophisms. + +"A letter from Count Claudieuse aroused us from our dreams. + +"The countess had committed the only and the last imprudence of her +whole life: she had remained three weeks longer in Paris than was +agreed upon; and her impatient husband threatened to come for her. + +" 'I must go back to Valpinson,' she said; 'for there is nothing I +would not do to keep up the reputation I have managed to make for +myself. My life, your life, my daughter's life--I would give them all, +without hesitation, to protect my reputation." + +"This happened--ah! the dates have remained fixed in my mind as if +engraven on bronze--on the 12th October. + +" 'I cannot remain longer than a month,' she said to me, 'without +seeing you. A month from to-day, that is to say, on 12th November, at +three o'clock precisely, you must be in the forest of Rochepommier, at +the Red Men's Cross-roads. I will be there.' + +"And she left Paris. I was in such a state of depression, that I +scarcely felt the pain of parting. The thought of being loved by such +a woman filled me with extreme pride, and, no doubt, saved me from +many an excess. Ambition was rising within me whenever I thought of +her. I wanted to work, to distinguish myself, to become eminent in +some way. + +" 'I want her to be proud of me,' I said to myself, ashamed at being +nothing at my age but the son of a rich father." + +Ten times, at least, M. Magloire had risen from his chair, and moved +his lips, as if about to make some objection. But he had pledged +himself, in his own mind, not to interrupt Jacques, and he did his +best to keep his pledge. + +"In the meantime," Jacques went on, "the day fixed by the countess was +drawing near. I went down to Boiscoran; and on the appointed day, at +the precise hour, I was in the forest at the Red Men's Cross-roads. I +was somewhat behind time, and I was extremely sorry for it: but I did +not know the forest very well, and the place chosen by the countess +for the rendezvous is in the very thickest part of the old wood. The +weather was unusually severe for the season. The night before, a heavy +snow had fallen: the paths were all white; and a sharp wind blew the +flakes from the heavily-loaded branches. From afar off, I +distinguished the countess, as she was walking, up and down in a kind +of feverish excitement, confining herself to a narrow space, where the +ground was dry, and where she was sheltered from the wind by enormous +masses of stone. She wore a dress of dark-red silk, very long, a cloak +trimmed with fur, and a velvet hat to match her dress. In three +minutes I was by her side. But she did not draw her hand from her muff +to offer it to me; and, without giving me time to apologize for the +delay, she said in a dry tone,-- + +" 'When did you reach Boiscoran?' + +" 'Last night.' + +" 'How childish you are!' she exclaimed, stamping her foot. 'Last +night! And on what pretext?' + +" 'I need no pretext to visit my uncle.' + +" 'And was he not surprised to see you drop from the clouds at this +time of the year?' + +" 'Why, yes, a little,' I answered foolishly, incapable as I was of +concealing the truth. + +"Her dissatisfaction increased visibly. + +" 'And how did you get here?' she commenced again. 'Did you know this +cross-road?' + +" 'No, I inquired about it.' + +" 'From whom?' + +" 'From one of my uncle's servants; but his information was so +imperfect, that I lost my way.' + +"She looked at me with such a bitter, ironical smile, that I stopped. + +" 'And all that, you think, is very simple,' she broke in. 'Do you +really imagine people will think it very natural that you should thus +fall like a bombshell upon Boiscoran, and immediately set out for the +Red Men's Cross-roads in the forest? Who knows but you have been +followed? Who knows but behind one of these trees there may be eyes +even now watching us?' + +"And as she looked around with all the signs of genuine fear, I +answered,-- + +" 'And what do you fear? Am I not here?' + +"I think I can even now see the look in her eyes as she said,-- + +" 'I fear nothing in the world--do you hear me? nothing in the world, +except being suspected; for I cannot be compromised. I like to do as I +do; I like to have a lover. But I do not want it to be known; because, +if it became known, there would be mischief. Between my reputation and +my life I have no choice. If I were to be surprised here by any one, I +would rather it should be my husband than a stranger. I have no love +for the count, and I shall never forgive him for having married me; +but he has saved my father's honor, and I owe it to him to keep his +honor unimpaired. He is my husband, besides, and the father of my +child: I bear his name, and I want it to be respected. I should die +with grief and shame and rage, if I had to give my arm to a man at +whom people might look and smile. Wives are absurdly stupid when they +do not feel that all the scorn with which their unfortunate husbands +are received in the great world falls back upon them. No. I do not +love the count, Jacques, and I love you. But remember, that, between +him and you, I should not hesitate a moment, and that I should +sacrifice your life and your honor, with a smile on my lips, even +though my heart should break, if I could, by doing so, spare him the +shadow of a suspicion.' + +"I was about to reply; but she said,-- + +" 'No more! Every minute we stay here increases the danger. What +pretext will you plead for your sudden appearance at Boiscoran?' + +" 'I do no know,' I replied. + +" 'You must borrow some money from your uncle, a considerable sum, to +pay your debts. He will be angry, perhaps; but that will explain your +sudden fancy for travelling in the month of November. Good-by, good- +by!' + +"All amazed, I cried,-- + +" 'What! You will not let me see you again, at least from afar?' + +" 'During this visit that would be the height of imprudence. But, +stop! Stay at Boiscoran till Sunday. Your uncle never stays away from +high mass: go with him to church. But be careful, control yourself. A +single imprudence, one blunder, and I should despise you. Now we must +part. You will find in Paris a letter from me.' " + +Jacques paused here, looking to read in M. Magloire's face what +impression his recital had produced so far. But the famous lawyer +remained impassive. He sighed, and continued,-- + +"I have entered into all these details, Magloire, because I want you +to know what kind of a woman the countess is, so that you may +understand her conduct. You see that she did not treat me like a +traitor: she had given me fair warning, and shown me the abyss into +which I was going to fall. Alas! so far from being terrified, these +dark sides of her character only attracted me the more. I admired her +imperious air, her courage, and her prudence, even her total lack of +principle, which contrasted so strangely with her fear of public +opinion. I said to myself with foolish pride,-- + +" 'She certainly is a superior woman!' + +"She must have been pleased with my obedience at church; for I managed +to check even a slight trembling which seized me when I saw her and +bowed to her as she passed so close to me that my hand touched her +dress. I obeyed her in other ways also. I asked my uncle for six +thousand francs, and he gave them to me, laughing; for he was the most +generous man on earth: but he said at the same time,-- + +" 'I thought you had not come to Boiscoran merely for the purpose of +exploring the forest of Rochepommier.' + +"This trifling circumstance increased my admiration for the Countess +Claudieuse. How well she had foreseen my uncle's astonishment, when I +had not even dreamed of it! + +" 'She has a genius for prudence,' I thought. + +"Yes, indeed she had a genius for it, and a genius for calculation +also, as I soon found out. When I reached Paris, I found a letter from +her waiting for me; but it was nothing more than a repetition of all +she had told me at our meeting. This letter was followed by several +others, which she begged me to keep for her sake, and which all had a +number in the upper corner. + +"The first time I saw her again, I asked her,-- + +" 'What are these numbers?' + +" 'My dear Jacques,' she replied, 'a woman ought always to know how +many letters she has written to her lover. Up to now, you must have +had nine.' + +"This occurred in May, 1867, at Rochefort, where she had gone to be +present at the launching of a frigate, and where I had followed her, +at her suggestion, with a view to spending a few hours in each other's +company. Like a fool, I laughed at the idea of this epistolary +responsibility, and then I thought no more of it. I was at that time +too busy otherwise. She had recalled to me the fact that time was +passing, in spite of the sadness of our separation, and that the month +of September, the month of her freedom, was drawing near. Should we be +compelled again, like the year before, to resort to these perilous +trips to Fontainebleau? Why not get a house in a remote quarter of +town? + +"Every wish of hers was an order for me. My uncle's liberality knew no +end. I bought a house." + +At last in the midst of all of Jacques's perplexities, there appeared +a circumstance which might furnish tangible evidence. + +M. Magloire started, and asked eagerly,-- + +"Ah, you bought a house?" + +"Yes, a nice house with a large garden, in Vine Street, Passy." + +"And you own it still?" + +"Yes." + +"Of course you have the title-papers?" + +Jacques looked in despair. + +"Here, again, fate is against me. There is quite a tale connected with +that house." + +The features of the Sauveterre lawyer grew dark again, much quicker +than they had brightened up just now. + +"Ah!" he said,--"a tale, ah!" + +"I was scarcely of age," resumed Jacques, "when I wanted to purchase +this house. I dreaded difficulties. I was afraid my father might hear +of it; in fine, I wanted to be as prudent as the countess was. I +asked, therefore, one of my English friends, Sir Francis Burnett, to +purchase it in his name. He agreed; and he handed me, with the +necessary bills of sale, also a paper in which he acknowledged my +right as proprietor." + +"But then"-- + +"Oh! wait a moment. I did not take these papers to my rooms in my +father's house. I put them into a drawer of a bureau in my house at +Passy. When the war broke out, I forgot them. I had left Paris before +the siege began, you know, being in command of a company of volunteers +from this department. During the two sieges, my house was successively +occupied by the National Guards, the soldiers of the Commune, and the +regular troops. When I got back there, I found the four walls pierced +with holes by the shells; but all the furniture had disappeared, and +with it the papers." + +"And Sir Francis Burnett?" + +"He left France at the beginning of the invasion; and I do not know +what has become of him. Two friends of his in England, to whom I +wrote, replied,--the one that he was probably in Australia; the other +that he was dead." + +"And you have taken no other steps to secure your rights to a piece of +property which legally belongs to you?" + +"No, not till now." + +"You mean to say virtually that there is in Paris a house which has no +owner, is forgotten by everybody, and unknown even to the tax- +gatherer?" + +"I beg your pardon! The taxes have always been regularly paid; and the +whole neighborhood knows that I am the owner. But the individuality is +not the same. I have unceremoniously assumed the identity of my +friend. In the eyes of the neighbors, the small dealers near by, the +workmen and contractors whom I have employed, for the servants and the +gardener, I am Sir Francis Burnett. Ask them about Jacques de +Boiscoran, and they will tell you, 'Don't know.' Ask them about Sir +Francis Burnett, and they will answer, 'Oh, very well!' and they will +give you my portrait." + +M. Magloire shook his head as if he were not fully convinced. + +"Then," he asked again, "you declare that the Countess Claudieuse has +been at this house?" + +"More than fifty times in three years." + +"If that is so, she must be known there." + +"No." + +"But"-- + +"Paris is not like Sauveterre, my dear friend; and people are not +solely occupied with their neighbors' doings. Vine Street is quite a +deserted street; and the countess took the greatest precautions in +coming and going." + +"Well, granted, as far as the outside world is concerned. But within? +You must have had somebody to stay in the house and keep it in order +when you were away, and to wait upon you when you were there?" + +"I had an English maid-servant." + +"Well, this girl must know the countess?" + +"She has never caught a glimpse of her even." + +"Oh!" + +"When the countess was coming down, or when she was going away, or +when we wanted to walk in the garden, I sent the girl on some errand. +I have sent her as far as Orleans to get rid of her for twenty-four +hours. The rest of the time we staid up stairs, and waited upon +ourselves." + +Evidently M. Magloire was suffering. He said,-- + +"You must be under a mistake. Servants are curious, and to hide from +them is only to make them mad with curiosity. That girl has watched +you. That girl has found means to see the countess when she came +there. She must be examined. Is she still in your service?" + +"No, she left me when the war broke out." + +"Why?" + +"She wanted to return to England." + +"Then we cannot hope to find her again?" + +"I believe not." + +"We must give it up, then. But your man-servant? Old Anthony was in +your confidence. Did you never tell him any thing about it?" + +"Never. Only once I sent for him to come to Vine Street when I had +sprained my foot in coming down stairs." + +"So that it is impossible for you to prove that the Countess +Claudieuse ever came to your house in Passy? You have no evidence of +it, and no eye-witness?" + +"I used to have evidence. She had brought a number of small articles +for her private use; but they have disappeared during the war." + +"Ah, yes!" said M. Magloire, "always the war! It has to answer for +every thing." + +Never had any of M. Galpin's examinations been half as painful to +Jacques de Boiscoran as this series of quick questions, which betrayed +such distressing incredulity. + +"Did I not tell you, Magloire," he resumed, "that the countess had a +genius for prudence? You can easily conceal yourself when you can +spend money without counting it. Would you blame me for not having any +proofs to furnish? Is it not the duty of every man of honor to do all +he can to keep even a shadow of suspicion from her who has confided +herself to his hands? I have done my duty, and whatever may come of +it, I shall not regret it. Could I foresee such unheard-of +emergencies? Could I foresee that a day might come when I, Jacques de +Boiscoran, should have to denounce the Countess Claudieuse, and should +be compelled to look for evidence and witnesses against her?" + +The eminent advocate of Sauveterre looked aside; and, instead of +replying, he said in a somewhat changed voice,-- + +"Go on, Jacques, go on!" + +Jacques de Boiscoran tried to overcome the discouragement which well- +nigh mastered him, and said,-- + +"It was on the 2d September, 1867, that the Countess Claudieuse for +the first time entered this house in Passy, which I had purchased and +furnished for her; and during the five weeks which she spent in Paris, +she came almost every day, and spent several hours there. + +"At her father's house she enjoyed absolute and almost uncontrolled +independence. She left her daughter--for she had at that time but one +child--with her mother, the Marchioness de Tassar; and she was free to +go and to come as she liked. + +"When she wanted still greater freedom, she went to see her friend in +Fontainebleau; and every time she did this she secured twenty-four or +forty-eight hours over and above the time for the journey. I, for my +part, was as perfectly free from all control. Ostensibly, I had gone +to Ireland; in reality, I lived in Vine Street. + +"These five weeks passed like a dream; and yet I must confess, the +parting was not as painful as might have been supposed. Not that the +bright prism was broken; but I always felt humiliated by the necessity +of being concealed. I began to be tired of these incessant +precautions; and I was quite ready to give up being Sir Francis +Burnett, and to resume my identity. + +"We had, besides, promised each other never to remain a month without +seeing each other, at least for a few hours; and she had invented a +number of expedients by which we could meet without danger. + +"A family misfortune came just then to our assistance. My father's +eldest brother, that kind uncle who had furnished me the means to +purchase my house in Passy, died, and left me his entire fortune. As +owner of Boiscoran, I could, henceforth, live as much as I chose in +the province; and at all events come there whenever I liked, without +anybody's inquiring for my reasons." + + + + XIV. + +Jacques de Boiscoran was evidently anxious to have done with his +recital, to come to that night of the fire at Valpinson, and to learn +at last from the eminent advocate of Sauveterre what he had to fear or +to hope. After a moment's silence, for his breath was giving out, and +after a few steps across his cell, he went on in a bitter tone of +voice,-- + +"But why trouble you with all these details, Magloire? Would you +believe me any more than you do now, if I were to enumerate to you all +my meetings with the Countess Claudieuse, or if I were to repeat all +her most trifling words? + +"We had gradually learnt to calculate all our movements, and made our +preparations so accurately, that we met constantly, and feared no +danger. We said to each other at parting, or she wrote to me, 'On such +a day, at such an hour, at such a place;' and however distant the day, +or the hour, or the place, we were sure to meet. I had soon learned to +know the country as well as the cleverest of poachers; and nothing was +so useful to us as this familiarity with all the unknown hiding- +places. The countess, on her side, never let three months pass by +without discovering some urgent motive which carried her to Rochelle, +to Angouleme, or to Paris; and I was there to meet her. Nothing kept +her from these excursions; even when indisposed, she braved the +fatigues of the journey. It is true, my life was well-nigh spent in +travelling; and at any moment, when least expected, I disappeared for +whole weeks. This will explain to you that restlessness at which my +father sneered, and for which you, yourself, Magloire, used to blame +me." + +"That is true," replied the latter. "I remember." + +Jacques de Boiscoran did not seem to notice the encouragement. + +"I should not tell the truth if I were to say that this kind of life +was unpleasant to me. Mystery and danger always add to the charms of +love. The difficulties only increased my passion. I saw something +sublime in this success with which two superior beings devoted all +their intelligence and cleverness to the carrying-on of a secret +intrigue. The more fully I became aware of the veneration with which +the countess was looked up to by the whole country, the more I learned +to appreciate her ability in dissembling and her profound perversity; +and I was all the more proud of her. I felt the pride setting my +cheeks aglow when I saw her at Brechy; for I came there every Sunday +for her sake alone, to see her pass calm and serene in the imposing +security of her lofty reputation. I laughed at the simplicity of all +these honest, good people, who bowed so low to her, thinking they +saluted a saint; and I congratulated myself with idiotic delight at +being the only one who knew the true Countess Claudieuse,--she who +took her revenge so bravely in our house in Passy! + +"But such delights never last long. + +"It had not taken me long to find out that I had given myself a +master, and the most imperious and exacting master that ever lived. I +had almost ceased to belong to myself. I had become her property; and +I lived and breathed and thought and acted for her alone. She did not +mind my tastes and my dislikes. She wished a thing, and that was +enough. She wrote to me, 'Come!' and I had to be instantly on the +spot: she said to me, 'Go!' an I had to leave at once. At first I +accepted these evidences of her despotism with joy; but gradually I +became tired of this perpetual abdication of my own will. I disliked +to have no control over myself, to be unable to dispose of twenty-four +hours in advance. I began to feel the pressure of the halter around my +neck. I thought of flight. One of my friends was to set out on a +voyage around the world, which was to last eighteen months or two +years, and I had an idea of accompanying him. There was nothing to +retain me. I was, by fortune and position, perfectly independent. Why +should I not carry out my plan? + +"Ah, why? The prism was not broken yet. I cursed the tyranny of the +countess; but I still trembled when I heard her name mentioned. I +thought of escaping from her; but a single glance moved me to the +bottom of my heart. I was bound to her by the thousand tender threads +of habit and of complicity,--those threads which seem to be more +delicate than gossamer, but which are harder to break than a ship's +cable. + +"Still, this idea which had occurred to me brought it about that I +uttered for the first time the word 'separation' in her presence, +asking her what she would do if I should leave her. She looked at me +with a strange air and asked me, after a moment's hesitation,-- + +" 'Are you serious? Is it a warning?' + +"I dared not carry matters any farther, and, making an effort to +smile, I said,-- + +" 'It is only a joke.' + +" 'Then,' she said, 'let us not say any thing more about it. If you +should ever come to that, you would soon see what I would do.' + +"I did not insist; but that look remained long in my memory, and made +me feel that I was far more closely bound than I had thought. From +that day it became my fixed idea to break with her." + +"Well, you ought to have made an end of it," said Magloire. + +Jacques de Boiscoran shook his head. + +"That is easily said," he replied. "I tried it; but I could not do it. +Ten times I went to her, determined to say, 'Let us part;' and ten +times, at the last moment, my courage failed me. She irritated me. I +almost began to hate her; but I could not forget how much I had loved +her, and how much she had risked for my sake. Then--why should I not +confess it?--I was afraid of her. + +"This inflexible character, which I had so much admired, terrified me; +and I shuddered, seized with vague and sombre apprehensions, when I +thought what she was capable of doing. I was thus in the utmost +perplexity, when my mother spoke to me of a match which she had long +hoped for. This might be the pretext which I had so far failed to +find. At all events, I asked for time to consider; and, the first time +I saw the countess again, I gathered all my courage, and said to +her,-- + +" 'Do you know what has happened? My mother wants me to marry.' + +"She turned as pale as death; and looking me fixedly in the eyes, as +if wanting to read my innermost thoughts, she asked,-- + +" 'And you, what do you want?' + +" 'I,' I replied with a forced laugh,--'I want nothing just now. But +the thing will have to be done sooner or later. A man must have a +home, affections which the world acknowledges'-- + +" 'And I,' she broke in; 'what am I to you?' + +" 'You,' I exclaimed, 'you, Genevieve! I love you with all the +strength of my heart. But we are separated by a gulf: you are +married.' + +"She was still looking at me fixedly. + +" 'In other words,' she said, 'you have loved me as a pastime. I have +been the amusement of your youth, the poetry of twenty years, that +love-romance which every man wants to have. But you are becoming +serious; you want sober affections, and you leave me. Well, be it so. +But what is to become of me when you are married?' + +"I was suffering terribly. + +" 'You have your husband,' I stammered, 'your children'-- + +"She stopped me. + +" 'Yes,' she said. 'I shall go back go live at Valpinson, in that +country full of associations, where every place recalls a rendezvous. +I shall live with my husband, whom I have betrayed; with daughters, +one of whom-- That cannot be, Jacques.' + +"I had a fit of courage. + +" 'Still,' I said, 'I may have to marry. What would you do?' + +" 'Oh! very little,' she replied. 'I should hand all your letters to +Count Claudieuse.' " + +During the thirty years which he had spent at the bar, M. Magloire had +heard many a strange confession; but never in his life had all his +ideas been overthrown as in this case. + +"That is utterly confounding," he murmured. + +But Jacques went on,-- + +"Was this threat of the countess meant in earnest? I did not doubt it; +but affecting great composure, I said,-- + +" 'You would not do that.' + +" 'By all that I hold dear and sacred in this world,' she replied, 'I +would do it.' + +"Many months have passed by since that scene, Magloire, many events +have happened; and still I feel as if it had taken place yesterday. I +see the countess still, whiter than a ghost. I still hear her +trembling voice; and I can repeat to you her words almost literally,-- + +" 'Ah! you are surprised at my determination, Jacques. I understand +that. Wives who have betrayed their husbands have not accustomed their +lovers to be held responsible by them. When they are betrayed, they +dare not cry out; when they are abandoned, they submit; when they are +sacrificed, they hide their tears, for to cry would be to avow their +wrong. Who would pity them, besides? Have they not received their +well-known punishment? Hence it is that all men agree, and there are +some of them cynical enough to confess it, that a married woman is a +convenient lady-love, because she can never be jealous, and she may be +abandoned at any time. Ah! we women are great cowards. If we had more +courage, you men would look twice before you would dare speak of love +to a married woman. But what no one dares I will dare. It shall not be +said that in our common fault there are two parts, and that you shall +have had all the benefit of it, and that I must bear all the +punishment. What? You might be free to-morrow to console yourself with +a new love; and I--I should have to sink under my shame and remorse. +No, no! Such bonds as those that bind us, riveted by long years of +complicity, are not broken so easily. + +" 'You belong to me; you are mine; and I shall defend you against all +and every one, with such arms as I possess. I told you that I valued +my reputation more than my life; but I never told you that I valued +life. On the eve of your wedding-day, my husband shall know all. I +shall not survive the loss of my honor; but at least I shall have my +revenge. If you escape the hatred of Count Claudieuse, your name will +be bound up with such a tragic affair that your life will be ruined +forever.' + +"That was the way she spoke, Magloire, and with a passion of which I +can give you no idea. It was absurd, it was insane, I admit. But is +not all passion absurd and insane? Besides, it was by no means a +sudden inspiration of her pride, which made her threaten me with such +vengeance. The precision of her phrases, the accuracy of her words, +all made me feel that she had long meditated such a blow, and +carefully calculated the effect of every word. + +"I was thunderstruck. + +"And as I kept silence for some time, she asked me coldly,-- + +" 'Well?' + +"I had to gain time, first of all. + +" 'Well,' I said, 'I cannot understand your passion. This marriage +which I mentioned has never existed as yet, except in my mother's +imagination.' + +" 'True?' she asked. + +" 'I assure you.' + +"She examined me with suspicious eyes. At last she said,-- + +" 'Well, I believe you. But now you are warned: let us think no more +of such horrors.' + +"She might think no more of them, but I could not. + +"I left her with fury in my heart. + +"She had evidently settled it all. I had for lifetime this halter +around my neck, which held me tighter day by day and, at the slightest +effort to free myself, I must be prepared for a terrible scandal; for +one of those overwhelming adventures which destroy a man's whole life. +Could I ever hope to make her listen to reason? No, I was quite sure I +could not. + +"I knew but too well that I should lose my time, if I were to recall +to her that I was not quite as guilty as she would make me out; if I +were to show her that her vengeance would fall less upon myself than +upon her husband and her children; and that, although she might blame +the count for the conditions of their marriage, her daughters, at +least, were innocent. + +"I looked in vain for an opening out of this horrible difficulty. Upon +my honor, Magloire, there were moments when I thought I would pretend +getting married, for the purpose of inducing the countess to act, and +of bringing upon myself these threats which were hanging over me. I +fear no danger; but I cannot bear to know it to exist, and to wait for +it with folded hands: I must go forth and meet it. + +"The thought that the countess should use her husband for the purpose +of keeping me bound shocked me. It seemed to me ridiculous and ignoble +that she should make her husband the guardian of her love. Did she +think I was afraid of her? + +"In the meantime, my mother had asked me what was the result of my +reflections on the subject of marriage; and I blushed with shame as I +told her that I was not disposed to marry as yet, as I felt too young +to accept the responsibility of a family. It was so; but, under other +circumstances, I should hardly have put in that plea. I was thus +hesitating, and thinking how and when I should be able to make an end +of it, when the war broke out. I felt naturally bound to offer my +services. I hastened to Boiscoran. They had just organized the +volunteers of the district; and they made me their captain. With them +I joined the army of the Loire. In my state of mind, war had nothing +fearful for me: every excitement was welcome that made me forget the +past. There was, consequently, no merit in my courage. Nevertheless, +as the weeks passed, and then the months, without my hearing a word +about the Countess Claudieuse, I began secretly to hope that she had +forgotten me; and that, time and absence doing their work, she was +giving me up. + +"When peace was made, I returned to Boiscoran; and the countess gave +no more signs of life now than before. I began to feel reassured, and +to recover possession of myself, when one day M. de Chandore invited +me to dinner. I went. I saw Miss Dionysia. + +"I had known her already for some time; and the recollection of her +had, perhaps, had its influence upon my desire to quit the countess. +Still I had always had self-control enough to avoid her lest I should +draw some fatal vengeance upon her. When I was brought in contact with +her by her grandfather, I had no longer the heart to avoid her; and, +on the day on which I thought I read in her eyes that she loved me I +made up my mind, and I resolved to risk every thing. + +"But how shall I tell you what I suffered, Magloire, and with what +anxiety I asked every evening when I returned to Boiscoran,-- + +" 'No letter yet?' + +"None came; and still it was impossible that the Countess Claudieuse +should not have heard of my marriage. My father had called on M. de +Chandore, and asked him for the hand of his grand-daughter for me. I +had been publicly acknowledged as her betrothed; and nothing was now +to be done but to fix the wedding-day. + +"This silence frightened me." + +Exhausted and out of breath, Jacque de Boiscoran paused here, pressing +both of his hands on his chest, as if to check the irregular beating +of his heart. + +He was approaching the catastrophe. + +And yet he looked in vain to the advocate for a word or a sign of +encouragement. M. Magloire remained impenetrable: his face remained as +impassive as an iron mask. + +At last, with a great effort, Jacques resumed,-- + +"Yes, this calm frightened me more than a storm would have done. To +win Dionysia's love was too great happiness. I expected a catastrophe, +something terrible. I expected it with such absolute certainty, that I +had actually made up my mind to confess every thing to M. de Chandore. +You know him, Magloire. The old gentleman is the purest and brightest +type of honor itself. I could intrust my secrets to him with as +perfect safety as I formerly intrusted Genevieve's name to the night +winds. + +"Alas! why did I hesitate? why did I delay? + +"One word might have saved me; and I should not be here, charged with +an atrocious crime, innocent, and yet condemned to see how you doubt +the truth of my words. + +"But fate was against me. + +"After having for a week postponed my confession every day to the +next, one evening, after Dionysia and I had been talking of +presentiments, I said to myself, 'To-morrow it shall be done.' + +"The next morning, I went to Boiscoran much earlier than usual, and on +foot, because I wanted to give some orders to a dozen workmen whom I +employed in my vineyards. I took a short cut through the fields. Alas! +not a single detail has escaped from my memory. When I had given my +orders, I returned to the high road, and there met the priest from +Brechy, who is a friend of mine. + +" 'You must,' he said, 'keep me company for a little distance. As you +are on your way to Sauveterre, it will not delay you much to take the +cross-road which passes by Valpinson and the forest of Rochepommier.' + +"On what trifles our fate depends! + +"I accompanied the priest, and only left him at the point where the +high-road and the cross-road intersect. As soon as I was alone, I +hastened on; and I was almost through the wood, when, all of a sudden, +some twenty yards before me, I saw the Countess Claudieuse coming +towards me. In spite of my emotion, I kept on my way, determined to +bow to her, but to pass her without speaking. I did so, and had gone +on a little distance, when I heard her call me,-- + +" 'Jacques!' + +"I stopped; or, rather, I was nailed to the spot by that voice which +for a long time had held such entire control over my heart. She came +up to me, looking even more excited than I was. Her lips trembled, and +her eyes wandered to and fro. + +" 'Well,' she said, 'it is no longer a fancy: this time you marry Miss +Chandore.' + +"The time for half-measures had passed. + +" 'Yes,' I replied. + +" 'Then it is really true,' she said again. 'It is all over now. I +suppose it would be in vain to remind you of those vows of eternal +love which you used to repeat over and over again. Look down there +under that old oak. They are the same trees, this is the same +landscape, and I am still the same woman; but your heart has changed.' + +"I made no reply. + +" 'You love her very much, do you?' she asked me. + +"I kept obstinately silent. + +" 'I understand,' she said, 'I understand you but too well. And +Dionysia? She loves you so much she cannot keep it to herself. She +stops her friends to tell them all about her marriage, and to assure +them of her happiness. Oh, yes, indeed, very happy! That love which +was my disgrace is her honor. I was forced to conceal it like a crime: +she can display it as a virtue. Social forms are, after all, very +absurd and unjust; but a fool is he who tries to defy them.' + +"Tears, the very first tears I had ever seen her shed, glittered in +her long silky eyelashes. + +" 'And to be nothing more to you,--nothing at all! Ah, I was too +cautious! Do you recollect the morning after your uncle's death, when +you, now a rich man, proposed that we should flee? I refused; I clung +to my reputation. I wanted to be respected. I thought it possible to +divide life into two parts,--one to be devoted to pleasure; the other, +to the hypocrisy of duty. Poor fool that I was! And still I discovered +long ago that you were weary of me. I knew you so well! Your heart was +like an open book to me, in which I read your most secret thoughts. +Then I might have retained you. I ought to have been humble, obliging, +submissive. Instead of that, I tried to command. + +" 'And you,' she said after a short pause,--'are you happy?' + +" 'I cannot be completely happy as long as I know that you are +unhappy. But there is no sorrow which time does not heal. You will +forget'-- + +" 'Never!' she cried. + +"And, lowering her voice, she added,-- + +" 'Can I forget you? Alas! my crime is fearful; but the punishment is +still more so.' + +"People were coming down the road. + +" 'Compose yourself,' I said. + +"She made an effort to control her emotion. The people passed us, +saluting politely. And after a moment she said again,-- + +" 'Well, and when is the wedding?' + +"I trembled. She herself insisted upon an explanation. + +" 'No day has as yet been fixed,' I replied. 'Had I not to see you +first? You uttered once grave threats.' + +" 'And you were afraid?' + +" 'No: I was sure I knew you too well to fear that you would punish me +for having loved you, as if that had been a crime. So many things have +happened since the day when you made those threats!' + +" 'Yes,' she replied, 'many things indeed! My poor father is +incorrigible. Once more he has committed himself fearfully; and once +more my husband has been compelled to sacrifice a large sum to save +him. Ah, Count Claudieuse has a noble heart; and it is a great pity I +should be the only one towards whom he has failed to show generosity. +Every kindness which he shows me is a new grievance for me; but, +having accepted them all, I have forfeited the right to strike him, as +I had intended to do. You may marry Dionysia, Jacques; you have +nothing to fear from me.' + +"Ah! I had not hoped for so much, Magloire. Overcome with joy, I +seized her hand, and raising it to my lips, I said,-- + +" 'You are the kindest of friends.' + +"But promptly, as if my lips had burnt her hand, she drew it back, and +said, turning very pale,-- + +" 'No, don't do that!' + +"Then, overcoming her emotion to a certain degree, she added,-- + +" 'But we must meet once more. You have my letters, I dare say.' + +" 'I have them all.' + +" 'Well, you must bring them to me. But where? And how? I can hardly +absent myself at this time. My youngest daughter--our daughter, +Jacques--is very ill. Still, an end must be made. Let us see, on +Thursday--are you free then? Yes. Very well, then come on Thursday +evening, towards nine o'clock, to Valpinson. You will find me at the +edge of the wood, near the towers of the old castle, which my husband +has repaired.' + +" 'Is that quite prudent?' I asked. + +" 'Have I ever left any thing to chance?' she replied, 'and would I be +apt, at this time, to be imprudent? Rely on me. Come, we must part, +Jacques. Thursday, and be punctual!' + +"Was I really free? Was the chain really broken? And had I become once +more my own master? + +"I thought so, and in my almost delirious joy I forgave the countess +all the anxieties of the last year. What do I say? I began to accuse +myself of injustice and cruelty. I admired her for sacrificing herself +to my happiness. I felt, in the fulness of my gratitude, like kneeling +down, and kissing the hem of her dress. + +"It had become useless now to confide my secret to M. de Chandore. I +might have gone back to Boiscoran. But I was more than half-way; I +kept on; and, when I reached Sauveterre, my face bore such evident +trances of my relief, that Dionysia said to me,-- + +" 'Something very pleasant must have happened to you, Jacques.' + +"Oh, yes, very pleasant! For the first time, I breathed freely as I +sat by her side. I could love her now, without fearing that my love +might be fatal to her. + +"This security did not last long. As I considered the matter, I +thought it very singular that the countess should have chosen such a +place for our meeting. + +" 'Can it be a trap?' I asked, as the day drew nearer. + +"All day long on Thursday I had the most painful presentiments. If I +had known how to let the countess know, I should certainly not have +gone. But I had no means to send her word; and I knew her well enough +to be sure that breaking my word would expose me to her full +vengeance. I dined at the usual hour; and, when I had finished, I went +up to my room, where I wrote to Dionysia not to expect me that +evening, as I should be detained by a matter of the utmost importance. + +"I handed the note to Michael, the son of one of my tenants, and told +him to carry it to town without losing a minute. Then I tied up all of +the countess's letters in a parcel, put it in my pocket, took my gun, +and went out. It might have been eight o'clock; but it was still broad +daylight." + +Whether M. Magloire accepted every thing that the prisoner said as +truth, or not, he was evidently deeply interested. He had drawn up his +chair, and at every statement he uttered half-loud exclamations. + +"Under any other circumstances," said Jacques, "I should have taken +one of the two public roads in going to Valpinson. But troubled, as I +was, by vague suspicions, I thought only of concealing myself and cut +across the marshes. They were partly overflowed; but I counted upon my +intimate familiarity with the ground, and my agility. I thought, +moreover, that here I should certainly not be seen, and should meet no +one. In this I was mistaken. When I reached the Seille Canal, and was +just about to cross it, I found myself face to face with young Ribot, +the son of a farmer at Brechy. He looked so very much surprised at +seeing me in such a place, that I thought to give him some +explanation; and, rendered stupid by my troubles, I told him I had +business at Brechy, and was crossing the marshes to shoot some birds. + +" 'If that is so,' he replied, laughing, 'we are not after the same +kind of game.' + +"He went his way; but this accident annoyed me seriously. I continued +on my way, swearing, I fear, at young Ribot, and found that the path +became more and more dangerous. It was long past nine when I reached +Valpinson at last. But the night was clear, and I became more cautious +than ever. + +"The place which the countess had chosen for our meeting was about two +hundred yards from the house and the farm buildings, sheltered by +other buildings, and quite close to the wood. I approached it through +this wood. + +"Hid among the trees, I was examining the ground, when I noticed the +countess standing near one of the old towers: she wore a simple +costume of light muslin, which could be seen at a distance. Finding +every thing quiet, I went up to her; and, as soon as she saw me, she +said,-- + +" 'I have been waiting for you nearly an hour.' + +"I explained to her the difficulties I had met with on my way there; +and then I asked her,-- + +" 'But where is your husband?' + +" 'He is laid up with rheumatism,' she replied. + +" 'Will he not wonder at your absence?' + +" 'No: he knows I am sitting up with my youngest daughter. I left the +house through the little door of the laundry.' + +"And, without giving me time to reply, she asked,-- + +" 'Where are my letters?' + +" 'Here they are,' I said, handing them to her. + +"She took them with feverish haste, saying in an undertone,-- + +" 'There ought to be twenty-four.' + +"And, without thinking of the insult, she went to work counting them. + +" 'They are all here,' she said when she had finished. + +"Then, drawing a little package from her bosom, she added,-- + +" 'And here are yours.' + +"But she did not give them to me. + +" 'We'll burn them,' she said. + +"I started with surprise. + +" 'You cannot think of it,' I cried, 'here, and at this hour. The fire +would certainly be seen.' + +" 'What? Are you afraid? However, we can go into the wood. Come, give +me some matches.' + +"I felt in my pockets; but I had none. + +" 'I have no matches,' I said. + +" 'Oh, come!--you who smoke all day long,--you who, even in my +presence, could never give up your cigars.' + +" 'I left my match-box, yesterday, at M. de Chandore's.' + +"She stamped her foot vehemently. + +" 'Since that is so, I'll go in and get some.' + +"This would have delayed us, and thus would have been an additional +imprudence. I saw that I must do what she wanted, and so I said,-- + +" 'That is not necessary. Wait!' + +"All sportsmen know that there is a way to replace matches. I employed +the usual means. I took a cartridge out of my gun, emptied it and its +shot, and put in, instead a piece of paper. Then, resting my gun on +the ground, so as to prevent a loud explosion, I made the powder flash +up. + +"We had fire, and put the letters to the flame. + +"A few minutes later, and nothing was left of them but a few blackened +fragments, which I crumbled in my hands, and scattered to the winds. +Immovable, like a statue, the Countess Claudieuse had watched my +operations. + +" 'And that is all,' she said, 'that remains of five years of our +life, of our love, and of your vows,--ashes.' + +"I replied by a commonplace remark. I was in a hurry to be gone. + +"She felt this, and cried with great vehemence,-- + +" 'Ah! I inspire you with horror.' + +" 'We have just committed a marvellous imprudence,' I said. + +" 'Ah! what does it matter?' + +"Then, in a hoarse voice, she added,-- + +" 'Happiness awaits you, and a new life full of intoxicating hopes: it +is quite natural that you should tremble. I, whose life is ended, and +who have nothing to look for,--I, in whom you have killed every +hope,--I am not afraid.' + +"I saw her anger rising within her, and said very quietly,-- + +" 'I hope you do not repent of your generosity, Genevieve.' + +" 'Perhaps I do,' she replied, in an accent which made me tremble. +'How you must laugh at me! What a wretched thing a woman is who is +abandoned, who resigns, and sheds tears!' + +"Then she went on fiercely,-- + +" 'Confess that you have never loved me really!' + +" 'Ah, you know very well the contrary!' + +" 'Still you abandon me for another,--for that Dionysia!' + +" 'You are married: you cannot be mine.' + +" 'Then if I were free--if I had been a widow'-- + +" 'You would be my wife you know very well.' + +"She raised her arms to heaven, like a drowning person; and, in a +voice which I thought they could hear at the house, she cried,-- + +" 'His wife! If I were a widow, I would be his wife! O God! Luckily, +that thought, that terrible thought, never occurred to me before.' " + +All of a sudden, at these words, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre +rose from his chair, and, placing himself before Jacques de Boiscoran, +he asked, looking at him with one of those glances which seem to +pierce our innermost heart,-- + +"And then?" + +Jacques had to summon all the energy that was left him to be able to +continue with a semblance of calmness, at least,-- + +"Then I tried every thing in the world to quiet the countess, to move +her, and bring her back to the generous feelings of former days. I was +so completely upset that I hardly knew what I was saying. I hated her +bitterly, and still I could not help pitying her. I am a man; and +there is no man living who would not feel deeply moved at seeing +himself the object of such bitter regrets and such terrible despair. +Besides, my happiness and Dionysia's honor were at stake. How do I +know what I said? I am not a hero of romance. No doubt I was mean. I +humbled myself, I besought her, I told falsehoods, I vowed to her that +it was my family, mainly, who made me marry. I hoped I should be able, +by great kindness and caressing words, to soften the bitterness of the +parting. She listened to me, remaining as impassive as a block of ice; +and, when I paused, she said with a sinister laugh,-- + +" 'And you tell me all that! Your Dionysia! Ah! if I were a woman like +other women, I would say nothing to-day, and, before the year was +over, you would again be at my feet.' + +"She must have been thinking of our meeting at the cross-roads. Or was +this the last outburst of passion at the moment when the last ties +were broken off? I was going to speak again; but she interrupted me +bruskly, saying,-- + +" 'Oh, that is enough! Spare me, at least, the insult of your pity! +I'll see. I promise nothing. Good-by!' + +"And she escaped toward the house, while I remained rooted to the +spot, almost stupefied, and asking myself if she was not, perhaps at +that moment, telling Count Claudieuse every thing. It was at that +moment that I drew from my gun, almost mechanically, the burnt +cartridge and put in a fresh one. Then, as nothing stirred, I went off +with rapid strides." + +"What time was it?" asked M. Magloire. + +"I could not tell you precisely. My state of mind was such, that I had +lost all idea of time. I went back through the forest of +Rochepommier." + +"And you saw nothing?" + +"No." + +"Heard nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"Still, from your statement, you could not have been far from +Valpinson when the fire broke out." + +"That is true, and, in the open country, I should certainly have seen +the fire; but I was in a dense wood: the trees cut off all view." + +"And these same trees prevented the sound of the two shots fired at +Count Claudieuse from reaching your ear?" + +"They might have helped to prevent it; but there was no need for that. +I was walking against the wind, which was very high; and it is an +established fact, that, under such circumstances, the sound of a gun +is not heard beyond fifty yards." + +M. Magloire once more could hardly restrain his impatience; and, +utterly unconscious that he was even harsher than the magistrate, he +said,-- + +"And you think your statement explains every thing?" + +"I believe that my statement, which is founded upon the most exact +truth, explains the charges brought against me by M. Galpin. It +explains how I tried to keep my visit to Valpinson secret; how I was +met in going and in coming back, and at hours which correspond with +the time of the fire. It explains, finally, how I came at first to +deny. It explains how one of my cartridge-cases was found near the +ruins, and why I had to wash my hands when I reached home." + +Nothing seemed to be able to shake the lawyer's conviction. He +asked,-- + +"And the day after, when they came to arrest you, what was your first +impression?" + +"I thought at once of Valpinson." + +"And when you were told that a crime had been committed?" + +"I said to myself, 'The countess wants to be a widow.' " + +All of M. Magloire's blood seemed to rise in his face. He cried,-- + +"Unhappy man! How can you dare accuse the Countess Claudieuse of such +a crime?" + +Indignation gave Jacques strength to reply,-- + +"Whom else should I accuse? A crime has been committed, and under such +circumstances that it cannot have been committed by any one except by +her or by myself. I am innocent: consequently she is guilty." + +"Why did you not say so at once?" + +Jacques shrugged his shoulders, and replied in a tone of bitter +irony,-- + +"How many times, and in how many ways, do you want me to give you my +reasons? I kept silent the first day, because I did not then know the +circumstances of the crime, and because I was reluctant to accuse a +woman who had given me her love, and who had become criminal from +passion; because, in fine, I did not think at that time that I was in +danger. After that I kept silent because I hoped justice would be able +to discover the truth, or the countess would be unable to bear the +idea that I, the innocent one, should be accused. Still later, when I +saw my danger, I was afraid." + +The advocates' feelings seemed to be revolted. He broke in,-- + +"You do not tell the truth, Jacques; and I will tell you why you kept +silent. It is very difficult to make up a story which is to account +for every thing. But you are a clever man: you thought it over, and +you made out a story. There is nothing lacking in it, except +probability. You might tell me that the Countess Claudieuse has +unfairly enjoyed the reputation of a saint, and that she has given you +her love; perhaps I might be willing to believe it. But when you say +she has set her own house on fire, and taken up a gun to shoot her +husband, that I can never, never admit." + +"Still it is the truth." + +"No; for the evidence of Count Claudieuse is precise. He has seen his +murderer; it was a man who fired at him." + +"And who tells you that Count Claudieuse does not know all, and wants +to save his wife, and ruin me? There would be a vengeance for him." + +The objection took the advocate by surprise; but he rejected it at +once, and said,-- + +"Ah! be silent, or prove." + +"All the letters are burned." + +"When one has been a woman's lover for five years, there are always +proofs." + +"But you see there are none." + +"Do not insist," repeated M. Magloire. + +And, in a voice full of pity and emotion, he added,-- + +"Unhappy man! Do you not feel, that, in order to escape from one +crime, you are committing another which is a thousand times worse?" + +Jacques stood wringing his hand, and said-- + +"It is enough to drive me mad." + +"And even if I, your friend," continued M. Magloire, "should believe +you, how would that help you? Would any one else believe it? Look here +I will tell you exactly what I think. Even if I were perfectly sure of +all the facts you mention, I should never plead them in my defence, +unless I had proofs. To plead them, understand me well, would be to +ruin yourself inevitably." + +"Still they must be pleaded; for they are the truth." + +"Then," said M. Magloire, "you must look for another advocate." + +And he went toward the door. He was on the point of leaving, when +Jacques cried out, almost in agony,-- + +"Great God, he forsakes me!" + +"No," replied the advocate; "but I cannot discuss matters with you in +the state of excitement in which you now are. You will think it over, +and I will come again to-morrow." + +He left; and Jacques de Boiscoran fell, utterly undone, on one of the +prison chairs. + +"It is all over," he stammered: "I am lost." + + + + XV. + +During all this time, they were suffering intense anxiety at M. de +Chandore's house. Ever since eight o'clock in the morning the two +aunts, the old gentleman, the marchioness, and M. Folgat had been +assembled in the dining-room, and were there waiting for the result of +the interview. Dionysia had only come down later; and her grandfather +could not help noticing that she had dressed more carefully than +usual. + +"Are we not going to see Jacques again?" she replied with a smile full +of confidence and joy. + +She had actually persuaded herself that one word from Jacques would +suffice to convince the celebrated lawyer, and that he would reappear +triumphant on M. Magloire's arm. The others did not share these +expectations. The two aunts, looking as yellow as their old laces, sat +immovable in a corner. The marchioness was trying to hide her tears; +and M. Folgat endeavored to look absorbed in a volume of engravings. +M. de Chandore, who possessed less self-control, walked up and down in +the room, repeating every ten minutes,-- + +"It is wonderful how long time seems when you are waiting!" + +At ten o'clock no news had come. + +"Could M. Magloire have forgotten his promise?" said Dionysia, +becoming anxious. + +"No, he has not forgotten it," replied a newcomer, M. Seneschal. It +was really the excellent mayor, who had met M. Magloire about an hour +before, and who now came to hear the news, for his own sake, as he +said, but especially for his wife's sake, who was actually ill with +anxiety. + +Eleven o'clock, and no news. The marchioness got up, and said,-- + +"I cannot stand this uncertainty a minute longer. I am going to the +prison." + +"And I will go with you, dear mother," declared Dionysia. + +But such a proceeding was hardly suitable. M. de Chandore opposed it, +and was supported by M. Folgat, as well as by M. Seneschal. + +"We might at least send somebody," suggested the two aunts timidly. + +"That is a good idea," replied M. de Chandore. + +He rang the bell; and old Anthony came in. He had established himself +the evening before in Sauveterre, having heard that the preliminary +investigation was finished. + +As soon as he had been told what they wanted him to do, he said,-- + +"I shall be back in half an hour." + +He nearly ran down the steep street, hastened along National Street, +and then climbed up more slowly Castle Street. When M. Blangin, the +keeper, saw him appear, he turned very pale; for M. Blangin had not +slept since Dionysia had given him the seventeen thousand francs. He, +once upon a time the special friend of all gendarmes, now trembled +when one of them entered the jail. Not that he felt any remorse about +having betrayed his duty; oh, no! but he feared discovery. + +More than ten times he had changed the hiding-place of his precious +stocking; but, wherever he put it, he always fancied that the eyes of +his visitors were riveted upon that very spot. He recovered, however, +from his fright when Anthony told him his errand, and replied in the +most civil manner,-- + +"M. Magloire came here at nine o'clock precisely. I took him +immediately to M. de Boiscoran's cell; and ever since they have been +talking, talking." + +"Are you quite sure?" + +"Of course I am. Must I not know every thing that happens in my jail? +I went and listened. You can hear nothing from the passage: they have +shut the wicket, and the door is massive." + +"That is strange," murmured the old servant. + +"Yes, and a bad sign," declared the keeper with a knowing air. "I have +noticed that the prisoners who take so long to state their case to +their advocate always catch the maximum of punishment." + +Anthony, of course, did not report to his masters the jailer's +mournful anticipations; but what he told them about the length of the +interview did not tend to relieve their anxiety. + +Gradually the color had faded from Dionysia's cheeks; and the clear +ring of her voice was half drowned in tears, when she said, that it +would have been better, perhaps, if she had put on mourning, and that +seeing the whole family assembled thus reminded her of a funeral. + +The sudden arrival of Dr. Seignebos cut short her remarks. He was in a +great passion, as usual; and as soon as he entered, he cried,-- + +"What a stupid town Sauveterre is! Nothing but gossip and idle +reports! The people are all of them old women. I feel like running +away, and hiding myself. On my way here, twenty curious people have +stopped me to ask me what M. de Boiscoran is going to do now. For the +town is full of rumors. They know that Magloire is at the jail now; +and everybody wants to be the first to hear Jacques's story." + +He had put his immense broad brimmed hat on the table, and, looking +around the room at all the sad faces he asked,-- + +"And you have no news yet?" + +"Nothing," replied M. Seneschal and M. Folgat at the same breath. + +"And we are frightened by this delay," added Dionysia. + +"And why?" asked the physician. + +Then taking down his spectacles, and wiping them diligently, he +said,-- + +"Did you think, my dear young lady, that Jacques de Boiscoran's affair +could be settled in five minutes? If they let you believe that, they +did wrong. I, who despise all concealment, I will tell you the truth. +At the bottom of all these occurrences at Valpinson, there lies, I am +perfectly sure, some dark intrigue. Most assuredly we shall put +Jacques out of his trouble; but I fear it will be hard work." + +"M. Magloire!" announced old Anthony. + +The eminent advocate of Sauveterre entered. He looked so undone, and +bore so evidently the traces of his excitement, that all had the same +terrible thought which Dionysia expressed. + +"Jacques is lost!" + +M. Magloire did not say no. + +"I believe he is in danger." + +"Jacques," murmured the old marchioness,--"my son!" + +"I said in danger," repeated the advocate; "but I ought to have said, +he is in a strange, almost incredible, unnatural position." + +"Let us hear," said the marchioness. + +The lawyer was evidently very much embarrassed; and he looked with +unmistakable distress, first at Dionysia, and then at the two old +aunts. But nobody noticed this, and so he said,-- + +"I must ask to be left alone with these gentlemen." + +In the most docile manner the Misses Lavarande rose, and took their +niece and Jacques's mother with them: the latter was evidently near +fainting. As soon as the door was shut, Grandpapa Chandore, half mad +with grief, exclaimed,-- + +"Thanks, M. Magloire, thanks for having given me time to prepare my +poor child for the terrible blow. I see but too well what you are +going to say. Jacques is guilty." + +"Stop," said the advocate: "I have said nothing of the kind. M. de +Boiscoran still protests energetically that he is innocent; but he +states in his defence a fact which is so entirely improbable, so +utterly inadmissible"-- + +"But what does he say?" asked M. Seneschal. + +"He says that the Countess Claudieuse has been his mistress." + +Dr. Seignebos started, and, readjusting his spectacles, he cried +triumphantly,-- + +"I said so! I have guessed it!" + +M. Folgat had, on this occasion, very naturally, no deliberative +voice. He came from Paris, with Paris ideas; and, whatever he might +have been told, the name of the Countess Claudieuse revealed to him +nothing. But, from the effect which it produced upon the others, he +could judge what Jacques's accusation meant. Far from being of the +doctor's opinion M. de Chandore and M. Seneschal both seemed to be as +much shocked as M. Magloire. + +"That is incredible," said one. + +"That is impossible," added the other. + +M. Magloire shook his head, and said,-- + +"That is exactly what I told Jacques." + +But the doctor was not the man to be surprised at what public opinion +said, much less to fear it. He exclaimed,-- + +"Don't you hear what I say? Don't you understand me? The proof that +the thing is neither so incredible nor so impossible is, that I had +suspected it. And there were signs of it, I should think. Why on earth +should a man like Jacques, young, rich, well made, in love with a +charming girl, and beloved by her, why should he amuse himself with +setting houses on fire, and killing people? You tell me he did not +like Count Claudieuse. Upon my word! If everybody who does not like +Dr. Seignebos were to come and fire at him forthwith, do you know my +body would look like a sieve! Among you all, M. Folgat is the only one +who has not been struck with blindness." + +The young lawyer tried modestly to protest. + +"Sir"-- + +But the other cut him short, and went on,-- + +"Yes, sir, you saw it all; and the proof of it is, that you at once +went to work in search of the real motive, the heart,--in fine, the +woman at the bottom of the riddle. The proof of it is, that you went +and asked everybody,--Anthony, M. de Chandore, M. Seneschal, and +myself,--if M. de Boiscoran had not now, or had not had, some love- +affair in the country. They all said No, being far from suspecting the +truth. I alone, without giving you a positive answer, told you that I +thought as you did, and told you so in M. de Chandore's presence." + +"That is so!" replied the old gentleman and M. Folgat. + +Dr. Seignebos was triumphant. Gesticulating, and continually handling +his spectacles, he added,-- + +"You see I have learnt to mistrust appearances; and hence I had my +misgivings from the beginning. I watched the Countess Claudieuse the +night of the fire; and I saw that she looked embarrassed, troubled, +suspicious. I wondered at her readiness to yield to M. Galpin's whim, +and to allow Cocoleu to be examined; for I knew that she was the only +one who could ever make that so-called idiot talk. You see I have good +eyes, gentlemen, in spite of my spectacles. Well, I swear by all I +hold most sacred, on my Republican faith, I am ready to affirm upon +oath, that, when Cocoleu uttered Jacques de Boiscoran's name, the +countess exhibited no sign of surprise." + +Never before, in their life, had the mayor of Sauveterre and Dr. +Seignebos been able to agree on any subject. This question was not +likely to produce such an effect all of a sudden: hence M. Seneschal +said,-- + +"I was present at Cocoleu's examination, and I noticed, on the +contrary, the amazement of the countess." + +The doctor raised his shoulders, and said,-- + +"Certainly she said, 'Ah!' But that is no proof. I, also, could very +easily say, 'Ah!' if anybody should come and tell me that the mayor of +Sauveterre was in the wrong; and still I should not be surprised." + +"Doctor!" said M. de Chandore, anxious to conciliate,--"doctor!" + +But Dr. Seignebos had already turned to M. Magloire, whom he was +anxious to convert, and went on,-- + +"Yes, the face of the Countess Claudieuse, expressed amazement; but +her eyes spoke of bitter, fierce hatred, of joy, and of vengeance. And +that is not all. Will you please tell me, Mr. Mayor, when Count +Claudieuse was roused by the fire, was the countess by him? No, she +was nursing her youngest daughter, who had the measles. Hm! What do +you think of measles which make sitting up at night necessary? And +when the two shots were fired, where was the countess then? Still with +her daughter, and on the other side of the house from where the fire +was." + +The mayor of Sauveterre was no less obstinate than the doctor. He at +once objected,-- + +"I beg you will notice, doctor, that Count Claudieuse himself deposed +how, when he ran to the fire, he found the door shut from within, just +as he had left it a few hours before." + +Dr. Seignebos returned a most ironical bow, and then asked,-- + +"Is there really only one door in the chateau at Valpinson?" + +"To my knowledge," said M. de Chandore, "there are at least three." + +"And I must say," added M. Magloire, "that according to M. de +Boiscoran's statement, the countess, on that evening, had gone out by +the laundry-door when she came to meet him." + +"What did I say?" exclaimed the doctor. + +And, wiping his glasses in a perfect rage, he added,-- + +"And the children! Does Mr. Mayor think it natural that the Countess +Claudieuse, this incomparable mother in his estimation, should forget +her children in the height of the fire?" + +"What! The poor woman is called out by the discharge of fire-arms; she +sees her house on fire; she stumbles over the lifeless body of her +husband: and you blame her for not having preserved all her presence +of mind." + +"That is one view of it; but it is not the one I take. I rather think +that the countess, having been delayed out of doors, was prevented by +the fire from getting in again. I think, also, that Cocoleu came very +opportunely; and that it was very lucky Providence should inspire his +mind with that sublime idea of saving the children at the risk of his +life." + +This time M. Seneschal made no reply. + +"Supported by all these facts," continued the doctor, "my suspicions +became so strong that I determined to ascertain the truth, if I could. +The next day I questioned the countess, and, I must confess, rather +treacherously. Her replies and her looks were not such as to modify my +views. When I asked her, looking straight into her eyes, what she +thought of Cocoleu's mental condition, she nearly fainted; and she +could hardly make me hear her when she said that she occasionally +caught glimpses of intelligence in him. When I asked her if Cocoleu +was fond of her, she said, in a most embarrassed manner, that his +devotion was that of an animal which is grateful for the care taken of +him. What do you think of that, gentlemen? To me it appeared that +Cocoleu was at the bottom of the whole affair; that he knew the truth; +and that I should be able to save Jacques, if I could prove Cocoleu's +imbecility to be assumed, and his speechlessness to be an imposture. +And I would have proved it, if they had associated with me any one +else but this ass and this jackanapes from Paris." + +He paused for a few seconds; but, without giving anybody time to +reply, he went on,-- + +"Now, let us go back to our point of departure, and draw our +conclusions. Why do you think it so improbable and impossible that the +countess Claudieuse should have betrayed her duties? Because she has a +world-wide reputation for purity and prudence. Well. But was not +Jacques de Boiscoran's reputation as a man of honor also above all +doubt? According to your views, it is absurd to suspect the countess +of having had a lover. According to my notions, it is absurd that +Jacques should, overnight, have become a scoundrel." + +"Oh! that is not the same thing," said M. Seneschal. + +"Certainly not!" replied the doctor; "and there you are right, for +once. If M. de Boiscoran had committed this crime, it would be one of +those absurd crimes which are revolting to us; but, if committed by +the countess, it is only the catastrophe prepared by Count Claudieuse +on the day when he married a woman thirty years younger than he was." + +The great wrath of Dr. Seignebos was not always as formidable as it +looked. Even when he appeared to be almost beside himself, he never +said more than he intended to say, possessed as he was of that +admirable southern quality, which enabled him to pour forth fire and +flames, and to remain as cold as ice within, But in this case he +showed what he thought fully. He had said quite enough, too, and had +presented the whole affair under such a new aspect, that his friends +became very thoughtful. + +"You would have converted me, doctor," said M. Folgat, "if I had not +been of your opinion before." + +"I am sure," added M. de Chandore, after hearing the doctor, "the +thing no longer looks impossible." + +"Nothing is impossible," said M. Seneschal, like a philosopher. + +The eminent advocate of Sauveterre alone remained unmoved. + +"Well," said he, "I had rather admit one hour of utter insanity even +than five years of such monstrous hypocrisy. Jacques may have +committed the crime, and be nothing but a madman; but, if the countess +is guilty, one might despair of mankind, and renounce all faith in +this world. I have seen her, gentlemen, with her husband and her +children. No one can feign such looks of tenderness and affection." + +"He will never give her up!" growled Dr. Seignebos,-- + +And touching his friend on the shoulder,--for M. Magloire had been his +friend for many years, and they were quite intimate,--he said,-- + +"Ah! There I recognize my friend, the strange lawyer, who judges +others by himself, and refuses to believe any thing bad. Oh, do not +protest! For we love and honor you for that very faith, and are proud +to see you among us Republicans. But I must confess you are not the +man to bring light into such a dark intrigue. At twenty-eight you +married a girl whom you loved dearly: you lost her, and ever since you +have remained faithful to her memory, and lived so far from all +passions that you no longer believe in their existence. Happy man! +Your heart is still at twenty; and with your grey hair you still +believe in the smiles and looks of woman." + +There was much truth in this; but there are certain truths which we +are not overfond of hearing. + +"My simplicity has nothing to do with the matter," said M. Magloire. +"I affirm and maintain that a man who has been for five years the +lover of a woman must have some proof of it." + +"Well, there you are mistaken, master," said the physician, arranging +his spectacles with an air of self-conceit, which, under other +circumstances, would have been irresistibly ludicrous. + +"When women determine to be prudent and suspicious," remarked M. de +Chandore, "they never are so by halves." + +"It is evident, besides," added M. Folgat, "that the Countess +Claudieuse would never have determined upon so bold a crime, if she +had not been quite sure, that after the burning of her letters, no +proof could be brought against her." + +"That is it!" cried the doctor. + +M. Magloire did not conceal his impatience. He said dryly,-- + +"Unfortunately, gentlemen, it does not depend on you to acquit or +condemn M. de Boiscoran. I am not here to convince you, or to be +convinced: I came to discuss with M. de Boiscoran's friends our line +of conduct, and the basis of or defence." + +And M. Magloire was evidently right in this estimate of his duty. He +went and leaned against the mantelpiece; and, when the others had +taken their seats around him, he began,-- + +"In the first place, I will admit the allegations made by M. de +Boiscoran. He is innocent. He has been the lover of Countess +Claudieuse; but he has no proof. This being granted, what is to be +done? Shall I advise him to send for the magistrate, and to confess it +all?" + +No one replied at first. It was only after a long silence that Dr. +Seignebos said,-- + +"That would be very serious." + +"Very serious, indeed," repeated the famous lawyer. "Our own feelings +give us the measure of what M. Galpin will think. First of all, he, +also, will ask for proof, the evidence of a witness, any thing, in +fact. And, when Jacques tells him that he has nothing to give but his +word, M. Galpin will tell him that he does not speak the truth." + +"He might, perhaps, consent to extend the investigation," said M. +Seneschal. "He might possibly summon the countess." + +M. Magloire nodded, and said,-- + +"He would certainly summon her. But, then, would she confess? It would +be madness to expect that. If she is guilty, she is far too strong- +minded to let the truth escape her. She would deny every thing, +haughtily, magnificently, and in such a manner as not to leave a +shadow of doubt." + +"That is only too probable," growled the doctor. "That poor Galpin is +not the strongest of men." + +"What would be the result of such a step?" asked M. Magloire. "M. de +Boiscoran's case would be a hundred times worse; for to his crime +would now be added the odium of the meanest, vilest calumny." + +M. Folgat was following with the utmost attention. He said,-- + +"I am very glad to hear my honorable colleague give utterance to that +opinion. We must give up all hope of delaying the proceedings, and let +M. de Boiscoran go into court at once." + +M. de Chandore raised his hands to heaven, as if in sheer despair. + +"But Dionysia will die of grief and shame," he exclaimed. + +M. Magloire, absorbed in his own views, went on,-- + +"Well, here we are now before the court at Sauveterre, before a jury +composed of people from this district, incapable of prevarication, I +am sure, but, unfortunately, under the influence of that public +opinion which has long since condemned M. de Boiscoran. The +proceedings begin; the judge questions the accused. Will he say what +he told me,--that, after having been the lover of the Countess +Claudieuse, he had gone to Valpinson to carry her back her letters, +and to get his own, and that they are all burnt? Suppose he says so. +Immediately then there will arise a storm of indignation; and he will +be overwhelmed with curses and with contempt. Well, thereupon, the +president of the court uses his discretionary powers, suspends the +trial, and sends for the Countess Claudieuse. Since we look upon her +as guilty, we must needs endow her with supernatural energy. She had +foreseen what is coming, and has read over her part. When summoned, +she appears, pale, dressed in black; and a murmur of respectful +sympathy greets her at her entrance. You see her before you, don't +you? The president explains to her why she has been sent for, and she +does not comprehend. She cannot possibly comprehend such an abominable +calumny. But when she has comprehended it? Do you see the lofty look +by which she crushes Jacques, and the grandeur with which she replies, +'When this man had failed in trying to murder my husband, he tried to +disgrace his wife. I intrust to you my honor as a mother and a wife, +gentlemen. I shall not answer the infamous charges of this abject +calumniator.' " + +"But that means the galleys for Jacques," exclaimed M. de Chandore, +"or even the scaffold!" + +"That would be the maximum, at all events," replied the advocate of +Sauveterre. "But the trial goes on; the prosecuting attorney demands +an overwhelming punishment; and at last the prisoner's council is +called upon to speak. Gentlemen, you were impatient at my persistence. +I do not credit, I confess, the statement made by M. de Boiscoran. But +my young colleague here does credit it. Well, let him tell us +candidly. Would he dare to plead this statement, and assert that the +Countess Claudieuse had been Jacques's mistress?" + +M. Folgat looked annoyed. + +"I don't know," he said in an undertone. + +"Well, I know you would not," exclaimed M. Magloire; "and you would be +right, for you would risk your reputation without the slightest chance +of saving Jacques. Yes, no chance whatever! For after all, let us +suppose, what can hardly be even supposed, you should prove that +Jacques has told the truth, that he has been the lover of the +countess. What would happen then? They arrest the countess. Do they +release M. de Boiscoran on that account? Certainly not! They keep him +in prison, and say to him. 'This woman has attempted her husband's +life; but she had been your mistress, and you are her accomplice.' + +"That is the situation, gentlemen!" + +M. Magloire had stripped it of all unnecessary comments, of idle +conjecture, and all sentimental phraseology, and placed it before them +as it had to be looked at, in all its fearful simplicity. + +Grandpapa Chandore was terrified. He rose, and said in an almost +inaudible voice,-- + +"Ah, all is over indeed! Innocent, or guilty, Jacques de Boiscoran +will be condemned." + +M. Magloire made no reply. + +"And that is," continued the old gentleman, "what you call justice!" + +"Alas!" sighed M. Seneschal, "it is useless to deny it: trials by jury +are a lottery." + +M. de Chandore, driven nearly to madness by his despair, interrupted +him,-- + +"In other words, Jacques's honor and life depend at this hour on a +chance,--on the weather on the day of the trial, or the health of a +juror. And if Jacques was the only one! But there is Dionysia's life, +gentlemen, my child's life, also at stake. If you strike Jacques, you +strike Dionysia!" + +M. Folgat could hardly restrain a tear. M. Seneschal, and even the +doctor, shuddered at such grief in an old man, who was threatened in +all that was dearest to him,--in his one great love upon earth. He had +taken the hand of the great advocate of Sauveterre, and, pressing it +convulsively, he went on,-- + +"You will save him, Magloire, won't you? What does it matter whether +he be innocent or guilty, since Dionysia loves him? You have saved so +many in your life! It is well known the judges cannot resist the +weight of your words. You will find means to save a poor, unhappy man +who once was your friend." + +The eminent lawyer looked cast-down, as if he had been guilty himself. +When Dr. Seignebos saw this, he exclaimed,-- + +"What do you mean, friend Magloire? Are you no longer the man whose +marvellous eloquence is the pride of our country? Hold your head up: +for shame! Never was a nobler cause intrusted to you." + +But he shook his head, and murmured,-- + +"I have no faith in it; and I cannot plead when my conscience does not +furnish the arguments." + +And becoming more and more embarrassed, he added,-- + +"Seignebos was right in saying just now, I am not the man for such a +cause. Here all my experience would be of no use. It will be better to +intrust it to my young brother here." + +For the first time in his life, M. Folgat came here upon a case such +as enables a man to rise to eminence, and to open a great future +before him. For the first time, he came upon a case in which were +united all the elements of supreme interest,--greatness of crime, +eminence of victim, character of the accused, mystery, variety of +opinions, difficulty of defence, and uncertainty of issue,--one of +those causes for which an advocate is filled with enthusiasm, which he +seizes upon with all his energies, and in which he shares all the +anxiety and all the hopes with his client. + +He would readily have given five years' income to be offered the +management of this case; but he was, above all, an honest man. He +said, therefore,-- + +"You would not think of abandoning M. de Boiscoran, M. Magloire?" + +"You will be more useful to him than I can be," was the reply. + +Perhaps M. Folgat was inwardly of the same opinion. Still he said,-- + +"You have not considered what an effect this would have." + +"Oh!" + +"What would the public think if they heard all of a sudden that you +had withdrawn? 'This affair of M. de Boiscoran must be a very bad one +indeed,' they would say, 'that M. Magloire should refuse to plead in +it.' And that would be an additional burden laid upon the unfortunate +man." + +The doctor gave his friend no time to reply. + +"Magloire is not at liberty to withdraw," he said, "but he has the +right to associate a brother-lawyer with himself. He must remain the +advocate and counsel of M. de Boiscoran; but M. Folgat can lend him +the assistance of his advice, the support of his youth and his +activity, and even of his eloquence." + +A passing blush colored the cheeks of the young lawyer. + +"I am entirely at M. Magloire's service," he said. + +The famous advocate of Sauveterre considered a while. After a few +moments he turned to his young colleague, and asked him,-- + +"Have you any plan? Any idea? What would you do?" + +To the astonishment of all, M. Folgat now revealed his true character +to some extent. He looked taller, his face brightened up, his eyes +shone brightly, and he said in a full, sonorous voice,--a voice which +by its metallic ring made all hearts vibrate,-- + +"First of all, I should go and see M. de Boiscoran. He alone should +determine my final decision. But my plan is formed now. I, gentlemen, +I have faith, as I told you before. The man whom Miss Dionysia loves +cannot be a criminal. What would I do? I would prove the truth of M. +de Boiscoran's statement. Can that be done? I hope so. He tells us +that there are no proofs or witnesses of his intimacy with the +Countess Claudieuse. I am sure he is mistaken. She has shown, he says, +extraordinary care and prudence. That may be. But mistrust challenges +suspicion; and, when you take the greatest precautions, you are most +likely to be watched. You want to hide, and you are discovered. You +see nobody; but they see you. + +"If I were charged with the defence, I should commence to-morrow a +counter-investigation. We have money, the Marquis de Boiscoran has +influential connections; and we should have help everywhere. Before +forty-eight hours are gone, I should have experienced agents at work. +I know Vine Street in Passy: it is a lonely street; but it has eyes, +as all streets have. Why should not some of these eyes have noticed +the mysterious visits of the countess? My agents would inquire from +house to house. Nor would it be necessary to mention names. They would +not be charged with a search after the Countess Claudieuse, but after +an unknown lady, dressed so and so; and, if they should discover any +one who had seen her, and who could identify her, that man would be +our first witness. + +"In the meantime, I should go in search of this friend of M. de +Boiscoran's, this Englishman, whose name he assumed; and the London +police would aid me in my efforts. If that Englishman is dead, we +would hear of it, and it would be a misfortune. If he is only at the +other end of the world, the transatlantic cable enables us to question +him, and to be answered in a week. + +"I should, at the same time, have sent detectives after that English +maid-servant who attended to the house in Vine Street. M. de Boiscoran +declares that she has never even caught a glimpse of the countess. I +do not believe it. It is out of question that a servant should not +wish for the means, and find them, of seeing the face of the woman who +comes to see her master. + +"And that is not all. There were other people who came to the house in +Vine Street. I should examine them one by one,--the gardener and his +help, the water-carrier, the upholsterer, the errand-boys of all the +merchants. Who can say whether one of them is not in possession of +this truth which we are seeking? + +"Finally, when a woman has spent so many days in a house, it is almost +impossible that she should not have left some traces of her passage +behind her. Since then, you will say, there has been the war, and then +the commune. Nevertheless, I should examine the ruins, every tree in +the garden, every pane in the windows: I should compel the very +mirrors that have escaped destruction to give me back the image which +they have so often reflected." + +"Ah, I call that speaking!" cried the doctor, full of enthusiasm. + +The others trembled with excitement. They felt that the struggle was +commencing. But, unmindful of the impression he had produced, M. +Folgat went on,-- + +"Here in Sauveterre, the task would be more difficult; but, in case of +success, the result, also, would be more decided. I should bring down +from Paris one of those keen, subtle detectives who have made an art +of their profession, and I should know how to stimulate his vanity. +He, of course, would have to know every thing, even the names; but +there would be no danger in that. His desire to succeed, the splendor +of the reward, even his professional habits, would be our security. He +would come down secretly, concealed under whatever disguise would +appear to him most useful for his purpose; and he would begin once +more, for the benefit of the defence, the investigation carried on by +M. Galpin for the benefit of the prosecution. Would he find out any +thing? We can but hope so. I know detectives, who, by the aid of +smaller material, have unravelled far deeper mysteries." + +Grandpapa Chandore, excellent M. Seneschal, Dr. Seignebos, and even M. +Magloire, were literally drinking in the words of the Paris lawyer. + +"Is that all, gentlemen?" he continued. "By no means! Thanks to his +great experience, Dr. Seignebos had, on the very first day, +instinctively guessed who was the most important personage of this +mysterious drama." + +"Cocoleu!" + +"Exactly, Cocoleu. Whether he be actor, confident, or eye-witness, +Cocoleu has evidently the key to this mystery. This key we must make +every effort to obtain from him. Medical experts have just declared +him idiotic; nevertheless, we protest. We claim that the imbecility of +this wretch is partly assumed. We maintain that his obstinate silence +is a vile imposture. What! he should have intelligence enough to +testify against us, and yet not have left enough of it now to explain, +or even to repeat his evidence? That is inadmissible. We maintain that +he keeps silent now just as he spoke that night,--by order. If his +silence was less profitable for the prosecution, they would soon find +means to break it. We demand that such means should be employed. We +demand that the person who has before been able to loosen his tongue +should be sent for, and ordered to try the experiment over again. We +call for a new examination by experts: we cannot judge all of a +sudden, and in forty-eight hours, what is the true mental condition of +a man, especially when that man is suspected of being an impostor. And +we require, above all, that these new experts should be qualified by +knowledge and experience." + +Dr. Seignebos was quivering with excitement. He heard all his own +ideas repeated in a concise, energetic manner. + +"Yes," he cried, "that is the way to do it! Let me have full power, +and in less than a fortnight Cocoleu is unmasked." + +Less expansive, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre simply shook hands +with M. Folgat, and said,-- + +"You see, M. de Boiscoran's case ought to be put in your hands." + +The young lawyer made no effort to protest. When he began to speak, +his determination was already formed. + +"Whatever can humanly be done," he replied, "I will do. If I accept +the task, I shall devote myself body and soul to it. But I insist upon +it, it is understood, and must be publicly announced, that M. Magloire +does not withdraw from the case, and that I act only as his junior." + +"Agreed," said the old advocate. + +"Well. When shall we go and see M. de Boiscoran?" + +"To-morrow morning." + +"I can, of course, take no steps till I have seen him." + +"Yes, but you cannot be admitted, except by a special permission from +M. Galpin; and I doubt if we can procure that to-day." + +"That is provoking." + +"No, since we have our work all cut out for to-day. We have to go over +all the papers of the proceedings, which the magistrate has placed in +my hands." + +Dr. Seignebos was boiling over with impatience. He broke in,-- + +"Oh, what words! Go to work, Mr. Advocate, to work, I say. Come, shall +we go?" + +They were leaving the room when M. de Chandore called them back by a +gesture. He said,-- + +"So far, gentlemen, we have thought of Jacques alone. And Dionysia?" + +The others looked at him, full of surprise. + +"What am I to day if she asks me what the result of M. Magloire's +interview with Jacques has been, and why you would say nothing in her +presence?" + +Dr. Seignebos had confessed it more than once: he was no friend of +concealment. + +'You will tell her the truth," was his advice. + +"What? How can I tell her that Jacques has been the lover of the +Countess Claudieuse?" + +"She will hear of it sooner or later. Miss Dionysia is a sensible, +energetic girl." + +"Yes; but Miss Dionysia is as ignorant as a holy angel," broke in M. +Folgat eagerly, "and she loves M. de Boiscoran. Why should we trouble +the purity of her thoughts and her happiness? Is she not unhappy +enough? M. de Boiscoran is no longer kept in close confinement. He +will see his betrothed, and, if he thinks proper, he can tell her. He +alone has the right to do so. I shall, however, dissuade him. From +what I know of Miss Chandore's character, it would be impossible for +her to control herself, if she should meet the Countess Claudieuse." + +"M. de Chandore ought not to say any thing," said M. Magloire +decisively. "It is too much already, to have to intrust the +marchioness with the secret; for you must not forget, gentlemen, that +the slightest indiscretion would certainly ruin all of M. Folgat's +delicate plans." + +Thereupon all went out; and M. de Chandore, left alone, said to +himself,-- + +"Yes, they are right; but what am I to say?" + +He was thinking it over almost painfully, when a maid came in, and +told him that Miss Dionysia wanted to see him. + +"I am coming," he said. + +And he followed her with heavy steps, and trying to compose his +features so as to efface all traces of the terrible emotions through +which he had passed. The two aunts had taken Dionysia and the +marchioness to the parlor in the upper story. Here M. de Chandore +found them all assembled,--the marchioness, pale and overcome, +extended in an easy-chair; but Dionysia, walking up and down with +burning cheeks and blazing eyes. As soon as he entered, she asked him +in a sharp, sad voice,-- + +"Well? There is no hope, I suppose." + +"More hope than ever, on the contrary," he replied, trying to smile. + +"Then why did M. De Magloire send us all out?" + +The old gentleman had had time to prepare a fib. + +"Because M. Magloire had to tell us a piece of bad news. There is no +chance of no true bill being found. Jacques will have to appear in +court." + +The marchioness jumped up like a piece of mechanism, and cried,-- + +"What! Jacques before the assizes? My son? A Boiscoran?" And she fell +back into her chair. Not a muscle in Dionysia's face had moved. She +said in a strange tone of voice,-- + +"I was prepared for something worse. One may avoid the court." + +With these words she left the room, shutting the door so violently, +that both the Misses Lavarande hastened after her. Now M. de Chandore +thought he might speak freely. He stood up before the marchioness, and +gave vent to that fearful wrath which had been rising within him for a +long time. + +"Your son," he cried, "your Jacques, I wish he were dead a thousand +times! The wretch who is killing my child, for you see he is killing +her." + +And, without pity, he told her the whole story of Jacques and the +Countess Claudieuse. The marchioness was overcome. She had even ceased +to sob, and had not strength enough left to ask him to have pity on +her. And, when he had ended, she whispered to herself with an +expression of unspeakable suffering,-- + +"Adultery! Oh, my God! what punishment!" + + + + XVI. + +M. Folgat and M. Magloire went to the courthouse; and, as they +descended the steep street from M. de Chandore's house, the Paris +lawyer said,-- + +"M. Galpin must fancy himself wonderfully safe in his position, that +he should grant the defence permission to see all the papers of the +prosecution." + +Ordinarily such leave is given only after the court has begun +proceedings against the accused, and the presiding judge has +questioned him. This looks like crying injustice to the prisoner; and +hence arrangements can be made by which the rigor of the law is +somewhat mitigated. With the consent of the commonwealth attorney, and +upon his responsibility, the magistrate who had carried on the +preliminary investigation may inform the accused, or his counsel, by +word of mouth, or by a copy of all or of part, of what has happened +during the first inquiry. That is what M. Galpin had done. + +And on the part of a man who was ever ready to interpret the law in +its strictest meaning, and who no more dared proceed without authority +for every step than a blind man without his staff,--or on the part of +such a man, an enemy, too, of M. de Boiscoran, this permission granted +to the defence was full of meaning. But did it really mean what M. +Folgat thought it did? + +"I am almost sure you are mistaken," said M. Magloire. "I know the +good man, having practiced with him for many years. If he were sure of +himself, he would be pitiless. If he is kind, he is afraid. This +concession is a door which he keeps open, in case of defeat." + +The eminent counsel was right. However well convinced M. Galpin might +be of Jacques's guilt, he was still very much troubled about his means +of defence. Twenty examinations had elicited nothing from his prisoner +but protestations of innocence. When he was driven to the wall, he +would reply,-- + +"I shall explain when I have seen my counsel." + +This is often the reply of the most stupid scamp, who only wants to +gain time. But M. Galpin knew his former friend, and had too high an +opinion of his mind, not to fear that there was something serious +beneath his obstinate silence. + +What was it? A clever falsehood? a cunningly-devised /alibi/? Or +witnesses bribed long beforehand? + +M. Galpin would have given much to know. And it was for the purpose of +finding it out sooner, that he had given the permission. Before he +granted it, however, he had conferred with the commonwealth attorney. +Excellent M. Daubigeon, whom he found, as usual, admiring the +beautiful gilt edging of his beloved books, had treated him badly. + +"Do you come for any more signatures?" he had exclaimed. "You shall +have them. If you want any thing else, your servant + + 'When the blunder is made, + It is too late, I tell thee, to come for advice.' " + +However discouraging such a welcome might be, M. Galpin did not give +up his purpose. He said in his bitterest tone,-- + +"You still insist that it is a blunder to do one's duty. Has not a +crime been committed? Is it not my duty to find out the author, and to +have him punished? Well? Is it my fault if the author of this crime is +an old friend of mine, and if I was once upon a time on the point of +marrying a relation of his? There is no one in court who doubts M. de +Boiscoran's guilt; there is no one who dares blame me: and yet they +are all as cold as ice towards me." + +"Such is the world," said M. Daubigeon with a face full of irony. +"They praise virtue; but they hate it." + +"Well, yes! that is so," cried M. Galpin in his turn. "Yes, they blame +people who have done what they had not the courage to do. The attorney +general has congratulated me, because he judges things from on high +and impartially. Here cliques are all-powerful. Even those who ought +to encourage and support me, cry out against me. My natural ally, the +commonwealth attorney, forsakes me and laughs at me. The president of +the court, my immediate superior, said to me this morning with +intolerable irony, 'I hardly know any magistrate who would be able as +you are to sacrifice his relations and his friends to the interests of +truth and justice. You are one of the ancients: you will rise high.' " + +His friend could not listen any further. He said,-- + +"Let us break off there: we shall never understand each other. Is +Jacques de Boiscoran innocent, or guilty? I do not know. But I do know +that he was the pleasantest man in the world, an admirable host, a +good talker, a scholar, and that he owned the finest editions of +Horace and Juvenal that I have ever seen. I liked him. I like him +still; and it distresses me to think of him in prison. I know that we +had the most pleasant relations with each other, and that now they are +broken off. And you, you complain! Am I the ambitious man? Do I want +to have my name connected with a world-famous trial? M. de Boiscoran +will in all probability be condemned. You ought to be delighted. And +still you complain? Why, one cannot have everything. Who ever +undertook a great enterprise, and never repented of it?" + +After that there was nothing left for M. Galpin but to go away. He did +go in a fury, but at the same time determined to profit by the rude +truths which M. Daubigeon had told him; for he knew very well that his +friend represented in his views nearly the whole community. He was +fully prepared to carry out his plan. Immediately after his return, he +communicated the papers of the prosecution to the defence, and +directed his clerk to show himself as obliging as he could. M. +Mechinet was not a little surprised at these orders. He knew his +master thoroughly,--this magistrate, whose shadow he had been now for +so many years. + +"You are afraid, dear sir," he had said to himself. + +And as M. Galpin repeated the injunction, adding that the honor of +justice required the utmost courtesy when rigor was not to be +employed, the old clerk replied very gravely,-- + +"Oh! be reassured, sir. I shall not be wanting in courtesy." + +But, as soon as the magistrate turned his back, Mechinet laughed +aloud. + +"He would not recommend me to be obliging," he thought, "if he +suspected the truth, and knew how far I am devoted to the defence. +What a fury he would be in, if he should ever find out that I have +betrayed all the secrets of the investigation, that I have carried +letters to and from the prisoner, that I have made of Trumence an +accomplice, and of Blangin the jailer an agent, that I have helped +Miss Dionysia to visit her betrothed in jail!" + +For he had done all this four times more than enough to be dismissed +from his place, and even to become, at least for some months, one of +Blangin's boarders. He shivered all down his back when he thought of +this; and he had been furiously angry, when, one evening, his sisters, +the devout seamstresses, had taken it into their heads to say to +him,-- + +"Certainly, Mechinet, you are a different man ever since that visit of +Miss Chandore." + +"Abominable talkers!" he had exclaimed, in a tone of voice which +frightened them out of their wits. "Do you want to see me hanged?" + +But, if he had these attacks of rage, he felt not a moment's remorse. +Miss Dionysia had completely bewitched him; and he judged M. Galpin's +conduct as severely as she did. + +To be sure, M. Galpin had done nothing contrary to law; but he had +violated the spirit of the law. Having once summoned courage to begin +proceedings against his friend, he had not been able to remain +impartial. Afraid of being charged with timidity, he had exaggerated +his severity. And, above all, he had carried on the inquiry solely in +the interests of a conviction, as if the crime had been proved, and +the prisoner had not protested his innocence. + +Now, Mechinet firmly believed in this innocence; and he was fully +persuaded that the day on which Jacques de Boiscoran saw his counsel +would be the day of his justification. This will show with what +eagerness he went to the court-house to wait for M. Magloire. + +But at noon the great lawyer had not yet come. He was still consulting +with M. de Chandore. + +"Could any thing amiss have happened?" thought the clerk. + +And his restlessness was so great, that, instead of going home to +breakfast with his sisters, he sent an office-boy for a roll and a +glass of water. At last, as three o'clock struck, M. Magloire and M. +Folgat arrived; and Mechinet saw at once in their faces, that he had +been mistaken, and that Jacques had not explained. Still, before M. +Magloire, he did not dare inquire. + +"Here are the papers," he said simply, putting upon the table an +immense box. + +Then, drawing M. Folgat aside, he asked,-- + +"What is the matter, pray?" + +The clerk had certainly acted so well, that they could have no secret +from him; and he so was fully committed, that there was no danger in +relying upon his discretion. Still M. Folgat did not dare to mention +the name of the Countess Claudieuse; and he replied evasively,-- + +"This is the matter: M. de Boiscoran explains fully; but he had no +proofs for his statement, and we are busy collecting proofs." + +Then he went and sat down by M. Magloire, who was already deep in the +papers. With the help of those documents, it was easy to follow step +by step M. Galpin's work, to see the efforts he had made, and to +comprehend his strategy. + +First of all, the two lawyers looked for the papers concerning +Cocoleu. They found none. Of the statement of the idiot on the night +of the fire, of the efforts made since to obtain from him a repetition +of this evidence, of the report of the experts,--of all this there was +not a trace to be found. + +M. Galpin dropped Cocoleu. He had a right to do so. The prosecution, +of course, only keeps those witnesses which it thinks useful, and +drops all the others. + +"Ah, the scamp is clever!" growled M. Magloire in his disappointment. + +It was really very well done. M. Galpin deprived by this step the +defence of one of their surest means, of one of those incidents in a +trial which are apt to affect the mind of the jury so powerfully. + +"We can, however, summon him at any time," said M. Magloire. + +They might do so, it is true; but what a difference it would make! If +Cocoleu appeared for M. Galpin, he was a witness for the prosecution, +and the defence could exclaim with indignation,-- + +"What! You suspect the prisoner upon the evidence of such a creature?" + +But, if he had to be summoned by the defence, he became prisoner's +evidence, that is to say, one of those witnesses whom the jury always +suspect; and then the prosecution would exclaim,-- + +"What do you hope for from a poor idiot, whose mental condition is +such, that we refused his evidence when it might have been most useful +to us?" + +"If we have to go into court," murmured M. Folgat, "here is certainly +a considerable chance of which we are deprived. The whole character of +the case is changed. But, then, how can M. Galpin prove the guilt?" + +Oh! in the simplest possible manner. He started from the fact that +Count Claudieuse was able to give the precise hour at which the crime +was committed. Thence he passed on immediately to the deposition of +young Ribot, who had met M. de Boiscoran on his way to Valpinson, +crossing the marshes, before the crime, and to that of Gaudry, who had +seen him come back from Valpinson through the woods, after the crime. +Three other witnesses who had turned up during the investigation +confirmed this evidence; and by these means alone, and by comparing +the hours, M. Galpin succeeded in proving, almost beyond doubt, that +the accused had gone to Valpinson, and nowhere else, and that he had +been there at the time the crime was committed. + +What was he doing there? + +To this question the prosecution replied by the evidence taken on the +first day of the inquiry, by the water in which Jacques had washed his +hands, the cartridge-case found near the house, and the identity of +the shot extracted from the count's wounds with those seized with the +gun at Boiscoran. + +Every thing was plain, precise, and formidable, admitting of no +discussion, no doubt, no suggestion. It looked like a mathematical +deduction. + +"Whether he be innocent or guilty," said M. Magloire to his young +colleague, "Jacques is lost, if we cannot get hold of some evidence +against the Countess Claudieuse. And even in that case, even if it +should be established that she is guilty, Jacques will always be +looked upon as her accomplice." + +Nevertheless, they spent a part of the night in going over all the +papers carefully, and in studying every point made by the prosecution. + +Next morning, about nine o'clock, having had only a few hours' sleep, +they went together to the prison. + + + + XVII. + +The night before, the jailer of Sauveterre had said to his wife, at +supper,-- + +"I am tired of the life I am leading here. They have paid me for my +place, have not they? Well, I mean to go." + +"You are a fool!" his wife had replied. "As long as M. de Boiscoran is +a prisoner there is a chance of profit. You don't know how rich those +Chandores are. You ought to stay." + +Like many other husbands, Blangin fancied he was master in his own +house. + +He remonstrated. He swore to make the ceiling fall down upon him. He +demonstrated by the strength of his arm that he was master. But-- + +But, notwithstanding all this, Mrs. Blangin having decided that he +should stay, he did stay. Sitting in front of his jail, and given up +to the most dismal presentiments, he was smoking his pipe, when M. +Magloire and M. Folgat appeared at the prison, and handed him M. +Galpin's permit. He rose as they came in. He was afraid of them, not +knowing whether they were in Miss Dionysia's secret or not. He +therefore politely doffed his worsted cap, took his pipe from his +mouth, and said,-- + +"Ah! You come to see M. de Boiscoran, gentlemen? I will show you in: +just give me time to go for my keys." + +M. Magloire held him back. + +"First of all," he said, "how is M. de Boiscoran?" + +"Only so-so," replied the jailer. + +"What is the matter?" + +"Why, what is the matter with all prisoners when they see that things +are likely to turn out badly for them?" + +The two lawyers looked at each other sadly. + +It was clear that Blangin thought Jacques guilty, and that was a bad +omen. The persons who stand guard over prisoners have generally a very +keen scent; and not unfrequently lawyers consult them, very much as an +author consults the actors of the theatre on which his piece is to +appear. + +"Has he told you any thing?" asked M. Folgat. + +"Me personally, nothing," replied the jailer. + +And shaking his head, he added,-- + +"But you know we have our experience. When a prisoner has been with +his counsel, I almost always go up to see him, and to offer him +something,--a little trifle to set him up again. So yesterday, after +M. Magloire had been here, I climbed up"-- + +"And you found M. de Boiscoran sick?" + +"I found him in a pitiful condition, gentlemen. He lay on his stomach +on his bed, his head in the pillow, and stiff as a corpse. I was some +time in his cell before he heard me. I shook my keys, I stamped, I +coughed. No use. I became frightened. I went up to him, and took him +by the shoulder. 'Eh, sir!' Great God! he leaped up as if shot and, +sitting up, he said, 'What to you want?' Of course, I tried to console +him, to explain to him that he ought to speak out; that it is rather +unpleasant to appear in court, but that people don't die of it; that +they even come out of it as white as snow, if they have a good +advocate. I might just as well have been singing, 'O sensible woman.' +The more I said, the fiercer he looked; and at last he cried, without +letting me finish, 'Get out from here! Leave me!' " + +He paused a moment to take a whiff at his pipe; but it had gone out: +he put it in his pocket, and went on,-- + +"I might have told him that I had a right to come into the cells +whenever I liked, and to stay there as long as it pleases me. But +prisoners are like children: you must not worry them. But I opened the +wicket, and I remained there, watching him. Ah, gentlemen, I have been +here twenty years, and I have seen many desperate men; but I never saw +any despair like this young man's. He had jumped up as soon as I +turned my back, and he was walking up and down, sobbing aloud. He +looked as pale as death; and the big tears were running down his +cheeks in torrents." + +M. Magloire felt each one of these details like a stab at his heart. +His opinion had not materially changed since the day before; but he +had had time to reflect, and to reproach himself for his harshness. + +"I was at my post for an hour at least," continued the jailer, "when +all of a sudden M. de Boiscoran throws himself upon the door, and +begins to knock at it with his feet, and to call as loud as he can. I +keep him waiting a little while, so he should not know I was so near +by, and then I open, pretending to have hurried up ever so fast. As +soon as I show myself he says, 'I have the right to receive visitors, +have I not? And nobody has been to see me?'--'No one.'--'Are you +sure?'--'Quite sure.' I thought I had killed him. He put his hands to +his forehead this way; and then he said, 'No one!--no mother, no +betrothed, no friend! Well, it is all over. I am no longer in +existence. I am forgotten, abandoned, disowned.' He said this in a +voice that would have drawn tears from stones; and I, I suggested to +him to write a letter, which I would send to M. de Chandore. But he +became furious at once, and cried, 'No, never! Leave me. There is +nothing left for me but death.' " + +M. Folgat had not uttered a word; but his pallor betrayed his +emotions. + +"You will understand, gentlemen," Blangin went on, "that I did not +feel quite reassured. It is a bad cell that in which M. de Boiscoran +is staying. Since I have been at Sauveterre, one man has killed +himself in it, and one man has tried to commit suicide. So I called +Trumence, a poor vagrant who assists me in the jail; and we arranged +it that one of us would always be on guard, never losing the prisoner +out of sight for a moment. But it was a useless precaution. At night, +when they carried M. de Boiscoran his supper, he was perfectly calm; +and he even said he would try to eat something to keep his strength. +Poor man! If he has no other strength than what his meal would give +him, he won't go far. He had not swallowed four mouthfuls, when he was +almost smothered; and Trumence and I at one time thought he would die +on our hands: I almost thought it might be fortunate. However, about +nine o'clock he was a little better; and he remained all night long at +his window." + +M. Magloire could stand it no longer. + +"Let us go up," he said to his colleague. + +They went up. But, as they entered the passage, they noticed Trumence, +who was making signs to them to step lightly. + +"What is the matter?" they asked in an undertone. + +"I believe he is asleep," replied the prisoner. "Poor man! Who knows +but he dreams he is free, and in his beautiful chateau?" + +M. Folgat went on tiptoe to the wicket. But Jacques had waked up. He +had heard steps and voices, and he had just risen. Blangin, therefore, +opened the door; and at once M. Magloire said the prisoner,-- + +"I bring you reenforcements,--M. Folgat, my colleague, who has come +down from Paris, with your mother." + +Coolly, and without saying a word, M. de Boiscoran bowed. + +"I see you are angry with me," continued M. Magloire. "I was too quick +yesterday, much too quick." + +Jacques shook his head, and said in an icy tone,-- + +"I was angry; but I have reflected since, and now I thank you for your +candor. At least, I know my fate. Innocent though I be, if I go into +court, I shall be condemned as an incendiary and a murderer. I shall +prefer not going into court at all." + +"Poor man! But all hope is not lost." + +"Yes. Who would believe me, if you, my friend, cannot believe me?" + +"I would," said M. Folgat promptly, "I, who, without knowing you, from +the beginning believed in your innocence,--I who, now that I have seen +you, adhere to my conviction." + +Quicker than thought, M. de Boiscoran had seized the young advocate's +hand, and, pressing it convulsively, said,-- + +"Thanks, oh, thanks for that word alone! I bless you, sir, for the +faith you have in me!" + +This was the first time that the unfortunate man, since his arrest, +felt a ray of hope. Alas! it passed in a second. His eye became dim +again; his brow clouded over; and he said in a hoarse voice,-- + +"Unfortunately, nothing can be done for me now. No doubt M. Magloire +has told you my sad history and my statement. I have no proof; or at +least, to furnish proof, I would have to enter into details which the +court would refuse to admit; or if by a miracle they were admitted, I +should be ruined forever by them. They are confidences which cannot be +spoken of, secrets which are never betrayed, veils which must not be +lifted. It is better to be condemned innocent than to be acquitted +infamous and dishonored. Gentlemen, I decline being defended." + +What was his desperate purpose that he should have come to such a +decision? + +His counsel trembled as they thought they guessed it. + +"You have no right," said M. Folgat, "to give yourself up thus." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you are not alone in your trouble, sir. Because you have +relations, friends, and"-- + +A bitter, ironical smile appeared on the lips of Jacques de Boiscoran +as he broke in,-- + +"What do I owe to them, if they have not even the courage to wait for +the sentence to be pronounced before they condemn me? Their merciless +verdict has actually anticipated that of the jury. It was to an +unknown person, to you, M. Folgat, that I had to be indebted for the +first expression of sympathy." + +"Ah, that is not so," exclaimed M. Magloire, "you know very well." + +Jacques did not seem to hear him. He went on,-- + +"Friends? Oh, yes! I had friends in my days of prosperity. There was +M. Galpin and M. Daubigeon: they were my friends. One has become my +judge, the most cruel and pitiless of judges; and the other, who is +commonwealth attorney, has not even made an effort to come to my +assistance. M. Magloire also used to be a friend of mine, and told me +a hundred times, that I could count upon him as I count upon myself, +and that was my reason to choose him as my counsel; and, when I +endeavored to convince him of my innocence, he told me I lied." + +Once more the eminent advocate of Sauveterre tried to protest; but it +was in vain. + +"Relations!" continued Jacques with a voice trembling with indignation +--"oh, yes! I have relations, a father and a mother. Where are they +when their son, victimized by unheard-of fatality, is struggling in +the meshes of a most odious and infamous plot? + +"My father stays quietly in Paris, devoted to his pursuits and usual +pleasures. My mother has come down to Sauveterre. She is here now; and +she has been told that I am at liberty to receive visitors: but in +vain. I was hoping for her yesterday; but the wretch who is accused of +a crime is no longer her son! She never came. No one came. Henceforth +I stand alone in the world; and now you see why I have a right to +dispose of myself." + +M. Folgat did not think for a moment of discussing the point. It would +have been useless. Despair never reasons. He only said,-- + +"You forget Miss Chandore, sir." + +Jacques turned crimson all over, and he murmured, trembling in all his +limbs,-- + +"Dionysia!" + +"Yes, Dionysia," said the young advocate. "You forget her courage, her +devotion, and all she has done for you. Can you say that she abandons +and denies you,--she who set aside all her reserve and her timidity +for your sake, and came and spent a whole night in this prison? She +was risking nothing less than her maidenly honor; for she might have +been discovered or betrayed. She knew that very well, nevertheless she +did not hesitate." + +"Ah! you are cruel, sir," broke in Jacques. + +And pressing the lawyer's arm hard, he went on,-- + +"And do you not understand that her memory kills me, and that my +misery is all the greater as I know but too well what bliss I am +losing? Do you not see that I love Dionysia as woman never was loved +before? Ah, if my life alone was at stake! I, at least, I have to make +amends for a great wrong; but she-- Great God, why did I ever come +across her path?" + +He remained for a moment buried in thought; then he added,-- + +"And yet she, also, did not come yesterday. Why? Oh! no doubt they +have told her all. They have told her how I came to be at Valpinson +the night of the crime." + +"You are mistaken, Jacques," said M. Magloire. "Miss Chandore knows +nothing." + +"Is it possible?" + +"M. Magloire did not speak in her presence," added M. Folgat; "and we +have bound over M. de Chandore to secrecy. I insisted upon it that you +alone had the right to tell the truth to Miss Dionysia." + +"Then how does she explain it to herself that I am not set free?" + +"She cannot explain it." + +"Great God! she does not also think I am guilty?" + +"If you were to tell her so yourself, she would not believe you." + +"And still she never came here yesterday." + +"She could not. Although they told her nothing, your mother had to be +told. The marchioness was literally thunderstruck. She remained for +more than an hour unconscious in Miss Dionysia's arms. When she +recovered her consciousness, her first words were for you; but it was +then too late to be admitted here." + +When M. Folgat mentioned Miss Dionysia's name, he had found the +surest, and perhaps the only means to break Jacques's purpose. + +"How can I ever sufficiently thank you, sir?" asked the latter. + +"By promising me that you will forever abandon that fatal resolve +which you had formed," replied the young advocate. "If you were +guilty, I should be the first to say, 'Be it so!' and I would furnish +you with the means. Suicide would be an expiation. But, as you are +innocent, you have no right to kill yourself: suicide would be a +confession." + +"What am I to do?" + +"Defend yourself. Fight." + +"Without hope?" + +"Yes, even without hope. When you faced the Prussians, did you ever +think of blowing out your brains? No! and yet you knew that they were +superior in numbers, and would conquer, in all probability. Well, you +are once more in face of the enemy; and even if you were certain of +being conquered, that is to say, of being condemned, and it was the +day before you should have to mount the scaffold, I should still say, +'Fight. You must live on; for up to that hour something may happen +which will enable us to discover the guilty one.' And, if no such +event should happen, I should repeat, nevertheless, 'You must wait for +the executioner in order to protest from the scaffold against the +judicial murder, and once more to affirm your innocence.' " + +As M. Folgat uttered these words, Jacques had gradually recovered his +bearing; and now he said,-- + +"Upon my honor, sir, I promise you I will hold out to the bitter end." + +"Well!" said M. Magloire,--"very well!" + +"First of all," replied M. Folgat, "I mean to recommence, for our +benefit the investigation which M. Galpin has left incomplete. +To-night your mother and I will leave for Paris. I have come to ask +you for the necessary information, and for the means to explore your +house in Vine Street, to discover the friend whose name you assumed, +and the servant who waited upon you." + +The bolts were drawn as he said this; and at the open wicket appeared +Blangin's rubicund face. + +"The Marchioness de Boiscoran," he said, "is in the parlor, and begs +you will come down as soon as you have done with these gentlemen." + +Jacques turned very pale. + +"My mother," he murmured. Then he added, speaking to the jailer,-- + +"Do not go yet. We have nearly done." + +His agitation was too great: he could not master it. He said to the +two lawyers,-- + +"We must stop here for to-day. I cannot think now." + +But M. Folgat had declared he would leave for Paris that very night; +and he was determined to do so. He said, therefore,-- + +"Our success depends on the rapidity of our movements. I beg you will +let me insist upon your giving me at once the few items of information +which I need for my purposes." + +Jacques shook his head sadly. He began,-- + +"The task is out of your power, sir." + +"Nevertheless, do what my colleague asks you," urged M. Magloire. +Without any further opposition, and, who knows? Perhaps with a secret +hope which he would not confess to himself, Jacques informed the young +advocate of the most minute details about his relations to the +Countess Claudieuse. He told him at what hour she used to come to the +house, what roads she took, and how she was most commonly dressed. The +keys of the house were at Boiscoran, in a drawer which Jacques +described. He had only to ask Anthony for them. Then he mentioned how +they might find out what had become of that Englishman whose name he +had borrowed. Sir Francis Burnett had a brother in London. Jacques did +not know his precise address; but he knew he had important business- +relations with India, and had, once upon a time, been cashier in the +great house of Gilmour and Benson. + +As to the English servant-girl who had for three years attended to his +house in Vine Street, Jacques had taken her blindly, upon the +recommendation of an agency in the suburbs; and he had had nothing to +do with her, except to pay her her wages, and, occasionally, some +little gratuity besides. All he could say, and even that he had +learned by mere chance, was, that the girl's name was Suky Wood; that +she was a native of Folkstone, where her parents kept a sailor's +tavern; and that, before coming to France, she had been a chambermaid +at the Adelphi in Liverpool. + +M. Folgat took careful notes of all he could learn. Then he said,-- + +"This is more than enough to begin the campaign. Now you must give me +the name and address of your tradesmen in Passy." + +"You will find a list in a small pocket-book which is in the same +drawer with the keys. In the same drawer are also all the deeds and +other papers concerning the house. Finally, you might take Anthony +with you: he is devoted to me." + +"I shall certainly take him, if you permit me," replied the lawyer. +Then putting up his notes, he added,-- + +"I shall not be absent more than three or four days; and, as soon as I +return, we will draw up our plan of defence. Till then, my dear +client, keep up your courage." + +They called Blangin to open the door for them; and, after having +shaken hands with Jacques de Boiscoran, M. Folgat and M. Magloire went +away. + +"Well, are we going down now?" asked the jailer. + +But Jacques made no reply. + +He had most ardently hoped for his mother's visit; and now, when he +was about to see her, he felt assailed by all kinds of vague and +sombre apprehensions. The last time he had kissed her was in Paris, in +the beautiful parlor of their family mansion. He had left her, his +heart swelling with hopes and joy, to go to his Dionysia; and his +mother, he remembered distinctly, had said to him, "I shall not see +you again till the day before the wedding." + +And now she was to see him again, in the parlor of a jail, accused of +an abominable crime. And perhaps she was doubtful of his innocence. + +"Sir, the marchioness is waiting for you," said the jailer once more. +At the man's voice, Jacques trembled. + +"I am ready," he replied: "let us go!" And, while descending the +stairs, he tried his best to compose his features, and to arm himself +with courage and calmness. + +"For," he said, "She must not become aware of it, how horrible my +position is." + +At the foot of the steps, Blangin pointed at a door, and said,-- + +"That is the parlor. When the marchioness wants to go, please call +me." + +On the threshold, Jacques paused once more. + +The parlor of the jail at Sauveterre is an immense vaulted hall, +lighted up by two narrow windows with close, heavy iron gratings. +There is no furniture save a coarse bench fastened to the damp, untidy +wall; and on this bench, in the full light of the sun, sat, or rather +lay, apparently bereft of all strength, the Marchioness of Boiscoran. + +When Jacques saw her, he could hardly suppress a cry of horror and +grief. Was that really his mother,--that thin old lady with the sallow +complexion, the red eyes, and trembling hands? + +"O God, O God!" he murmured. + +She heard him, for she raised her head; and, when she recognized him, +she wanted to rise; but her strength forsook her, and she sank back +upon the bench, crying,-- + +"O Jacques, my child!" + +She, also, was terrified when she saw what two months of anguish and +sleeplessness had done for Jacques. But he was kneeling at her feet +upon the muddy pavement, and said in a barely intelligible voice,-- + +"Can you pardon me the great grief I cause you?" + +She looked at him for a moment with a bewildered air; and then, all of +a sudden, she took his head in her two hands, kissed him with +passionate vehemence, and said,-- + +"Will I pardon you? Alas, what have I to pardon? If you were guilty, I +should love you still; and you are innocent." + +Jacques breathed more freely. In his mother's voice he felt that she, +at least, was sure of him. + +"And father?" he asked. + +There was a faint blush on the pale cheeks of the marchioness. + +"I shall see him to-morrow," she replied; "for I leave to-night with +M. Folgat." + +"What! In this state of weakness?" + +"I must." + +"Could not father leave his collections for a few days? Why did he not +come down? Does he think I am guilty?" + +"No; it is just because he is so sure of your innocence, that he +remains in Paris. He does not believe you in danger. He insists upon +it that justice cannot err." + +"I hope so," said Jacques with a forced smile. + +Then changing his tone,-- + +"And Dionysia? Why did she not come with you?" + +"Because I would not have it. She knows nothing. It has been agreed +upon that the name of the Countess Claudieuse is not to be mentioned +in her presence; and I wanted to speak to you about that abominable +woman. Jacques, my poor child, where has that unlucky passion brought +you!" + +He made no reply. + +"Did you love her?" asked the marchioness. + +"I thought I did." + +"And she?" + +"Oh, she! God alone knows the secret of that strange heart." + +"There is nothing to hope from her, then, no pity, no remorse?" + +"Nothing. I have given her up. She has had her revenge. She had +forewarned me." + +The marchioness sighed. + +"I thought so," she said. "Last Sunday, when I knew as yet of nothing, +I happened to be close to her at church, and unconsciously admired her +profound devotion, the purity of her eye, and the nobility of her +manner. Yesterday, when I heard the truth, I shuddered. I felt how +formidable a woman must be who can affect such calmness at a time when +her lover lies in prison accused of the crime which she has +committed." + +"Nothing in the world would trouble her, mother." + +"Still she ought to tremble; for she must know that you have told us +every thing. How can we unmask her?" + +But time was passing; and Blangin came to tell the marchioness that +she had to withdraw. She went, after having kissed her son once more. + +That same evening, according to their arrangement, she left for Paris, +accompanied by M. Folgat and old Anthony. + + + + XVIII. + +At Sauveterre, everybody, M. de Chandore as much as Jacques himself, +blamed the Marquis de Boiscoran. He persisted in remaining in Paris, +it is true: but it was certainly not from indifference; for he was +dying with anxiety. He had shut himself up, and refused to see even +his oldest friends, even his beloved dealers in curiosities. He never +went out; the dust accumulated on his collections; and nothing could +arouse him from this state of prostration, except a letter from +Sauveterre. + +Every morning he received three or four,--from the marchioness or M. +Folgat, from M. Seneschal or M. Magloire, from M. de Chandore, +Dionysia, or even from Dr. Seignebos. Thus he could follow at a +distance all the phases, and even the smallest changes, in the +proceedings. Only one thing he would not do: he would not come down, +however important his coming might be for his son. He did not move. + +Once only he had received, through Dionysia's agency, a letter from +Jacques himself; and then he ordered his servant to get ready his +trunks for the same evening. But at the last moment he had given +counter-orders, saying that he had reconsidered, and would not go. + +"There is something extraordinary going on in the mind of the +marquis," said the servants to each other. + +The fact is, he spent his days, and a part of his nights, in his +cabinet, half-buried in an arm-chair, resting little, and sleeping +still less, insensible to all that went on around him. On his table he +had arranged all his letters from Sauveterre in order; and he read and +re-read them incessantly, examining the phrases, and trying, ever in +vain, to disengage the truth from this mass of details and statements. +He was no longer as sure of his son as at first: far from it! Every +day had brought him a new doubt; every letter, additional uncertainty. +Hence he was all the time a prey to most harassing apprehensions. He +put them aside; but they returned, stronger and more irresistible than +before like the waves of the rising tide. + +He was thus one morning in his cabinet. It was very early yet; but he +was more than ever suffering from anxiety, for M. Folgat had written, +"To-morrow all uncertainty will end. To-morrow the close confinement +will be raised, and M. Jacques will see M. Magloire, the counsel whom +he has chosen. We will write immediately." + +It was for this news the marquis was waiting now. Twice already he had +rung to inquire if the mail had not come yet, when all of a sudden his +valet appeared and with a frightened air said,-- + +"The marchioness. She has just come with Anthony, M. Jacques's own +man." + +He hardly said so, when the marchioness herself entered, looking even +worse than she had done in the prison parlor; for she was overcome by +the fatigue of a night spent on the road. + +The marquis had started up suddenly. As soon as the servant had left +the room, and shut the door again, he said with trembling voice, as if +wishing for an answer, and still fearing to hear it,-- + +"Has any thing unusual happened?" + +"Yes." + +"Good or bad?" + +"Sad." + +"Great God! Jacques has not confessed?" + +"How could he confess when he is innocent?" + +"Then he has explained?" + +"As far as I am concerned, and M. Folgat, Dr. Seignebos, and all who +know him and love him, yes, but not for the public, for his enemies, +or the law. He has explained every thing; but he has no proof." + +The mournful features of the marquis settled into still deeper gloom. + +"In other words, he has to be believed on his own word?" he asked. + +"Don't you believe him?" + +"I am not the judge of that, but the jury." + +"Well, for the jury he will find proof. M. Folgat, who has come in the +same train with me, and whom you will see to-day, hopes to discover +proof." + +"Proof of what?" + +Perhaps the marchioness was not unprepared for such a reception. She +expected it, and still she was disconcerted. + +"Jacques," she began, "has been the lover of the Countess Claudieuse." + +"Ah, ah!" broke in the marquis. + +And, in a tone of offensive irony, he added,-- + +"No doubt another story of adultery; eh?" + +The marchioness did not answer. She quietly went on,-- + +"When the countess heard of Jacques's marriage, and that he abandoned +her, she became exasperated, and determined to be avenged." + +"And, in order to be avenged, she attempted to murder her husband; +eh?" + +"She wished to be free." + +The Marquis de Boiscoran interrupted his wife with a formidable oath. +Then he cried,-- + +"And that is all Jacques could invent! And to come to such an abortive +story--was that the reason of his obstinate silence?" + +"You do not let me finish. Our son is the victim of unparalleled +coincidences." + +"Of course! Unparalleled coincidences! That is what every one of the +thousand or two thousand rascals say who are sentenced every year. Do +you think they confess? Not they! Ask them, and they will prove to you +that they are the victims of fate, of some dark plot, and, finally, of +an error of judgment. As if justice could err in these days of ours, +after all these preliminary examinations, long inquiries, and careful +investigations." + +"You will see M. Folgat. He will tell you what hope there is." + +"And if all hope fails?" + +The marchioness hung her head. + +"All would not be lost yet. But then we should have to endure the pain +of seeing our son brought up in court." + +The tall figure of the old gentleman had once more risen to its full +height; his face grew red; and the most appalling wrath flashed from +his eyes. + +"Jacques brought up in court?" he cried, with a formidable voice. "And +you come and tell me that coolly, as if it were a very simple and +quite natural matter! And what will happen then, if he is in court? He +will be condemned; and a Boiscoran will go to the galleys. But no, +that cannot be! I do not say that a Boiscoran may not commit a crime, +passion makes us do strange things; but a Boiscoran, when he regains +his senses, knows what becomes him to do. Blood washes out all stains. +Jacques prefers the executioner; he waits; he is cunning; he means to +plead. If he but save his head, he is quite content. A few years at +hard labor, I suppose, will be a trifle to him. And that coward should +be a Boiscoran: my blood should flow in his veins! Come, come, madam, +Jacques is no son of mine." + +Crushed as the marchioness had seemed to be till now, she rose under +this atrocious insult. + +"Sir!" she cried. + +But M. de Boiscoran was not in a state to listen to her. + +"I know what I am saying," he went on. "I remember every thing, if you +have forgotten every thing. Come, let us go back to your past. +Remember the time when Jacques was born, and tell me what year it was +when M. de Margeril refused to meet me." + +Indignation restored to the marchioness her strength. She cried,-- + +"And you come and tell me this to-day, after thirty years, and God +knows under what circumstances!" + +"Yes, after thirty years. Eternity might pass over these +recollections, and it would not efface them. And, but for these +circumstances to which you refer, I should never have said any thing. +At the time to which I allude, I had to choose between two evils,-- +either to be ridiculous, or to be hated. I preferred to keep silence, +and not to inquire too far. My happiness was gone; but I wished to +save my peace. We have lived together on excellent terms; but there +has always been between us this high wall, this suspicion. As long as +I was doubtful, I kept silent. But now, when the facts confirm my +doubts, I say again, 'Jacques is no son of mine!' " + +Overcome with grief, shame, and indignation, the Marchioness de +Boiscoran was wringing her hands; then she cried,-- + +"What a humiliation! What you are saying is too horrible. It is +unworthy of you to add this terrible suffering to the martyrdom which +I am enduring." + +M. de Boiscoran laughed convulsively. + +"Have I brought about this catastrophe?" + +"Well then yes! One day I was imprudent and indiscreet. I was young; I +knew nothing of life; the world worshipped me; and you, my husband, my +guide, gave yourself up to your ambition, and left me to myself. I +could not foresee the consequences of a very inoffensive piece of +coquetry." + +"You see, then, now these consequences. After thirty years, I disown +the child that bears my name; and I say, that, if he is innocent, he +suffers for his mother's sins. Fate would have it that your son should +covet his neighbor's wife, and, having taken her, it is but justice +that he should die the death of the adulterer." + +"But you know very well that I have never forgotten my duty." + +"I know nothing." + +"You have acknowledged it, because you refused to hear the explanation +which would have justified me." + +"True, I did shrink from an explanation, which, with your unbearable +pride, would necessarily have led to a rupture, and thus to a fearful +scandal." + +The marchioness might have told her husband, that, by refusing to hear +her explanation, he had forfeited all right to utter a reproach; but +she felt it would be useless, and thus he went on,-- + +"All I do know is, that there is somewhere in this world a man whom I +wanted to kill. Gossiping people betrayed his name to me. I went to +him, and told him that I demanded satisfaction, and that I hoped he +would conceal the real reason for our encounter even from our seconds. +He refused to give me satisfaction, on the ground that he did not owe +me any, that you had been calumniated, and that he would meet me only +if I should insult him publicly." + +"Well?" + +"What could I do after that? Investigate the matter? You had no doubt +taken your precautions, and it would have amounted to nothing. Watch +you? I should only have demeaned myself uselessly; for you were no +doubt on your guard. Should I ask for a divorce? The law afforded me +that remedy. I might have dragged you into court, held you up to the +sarcasms of my counsel, and exposed you to the jests of your own. I +had a right to humble you, to dishonor my name, to proclaim your +disgrace, to publish it in the newspapers. Ah, I would have died +rather!" + +The marchioness seemed to be puzzled. + +"That was the explanation of your conduct?" + +"Yes, that was my reason for giving up public life, ambitious as I +was. That was the reason why I withdrew from the world; for I thought +everybody smiled as I passed. That is why I gave up to you the +management of our house and the education of your son, why I became a +passionate collector, a half-mad original. And you find out only +to-day that you have ruined my life?" + +There was more compassion than resentment in the manner in which the +marchioness looked at her husband. + +"You had mentioned to me your unjust suspicions," she replied; "but I +felt strong in my innocence, and I was in hope that time and my +conduct would efface them." + +"Faith once lost never comes back again." + +"The fearful idea that you could doubt of your paternity had never +even occurred to me." + +The marquis shook his head. + +"Still it was so," he replied. "I have suffered terribly. I loved +Jacques. Yes, in spite of all, in spite of myself, I loved him. Had he +not all the qualities which are the pride and the joy of a family? Was +he not generous and noble-hearted, open to all lofty sentiments, +affectionate, and always anxious to please me? I never had to complain +of him. And even lately, during this abominable war, has he not again +shown his courage, and valiantly earned the cross which they gave him? +At all times, and from all sides, I have been congratulated on his +account. They praised his talents and his assiduity. Alas! at the very +moment when they told me what a happy father I was, I was the most +wretched of men. How many times would I have drawn him to my heart! +But immediately that terrible doubt rose within me, if he should not +be my son; and I pushed him back, and looked in his features for a +trace of another man's features." + +His wrath had cooled down, perhaps by its very excess. + +He felt a certain tenderness in his heart, and sinking into his chair, +and hiding his face in his hands, he murmured,-- + +"If he should be my son, however; if he should be innocent! Ah, this +doubt is intolerable! And I who would not moved from here,--I who have +done nothing for him,--I might have done every thing at first. It +would have been easy for me to obtain a change of venue to free him +from this Galpin, formerly his friend, and now his enemy." + +M. de Boiscoran was right when he said that his wife's pride was +unmanageable. And still, as cruelly wounded as woman well could be, +she now suppressed her pride, and, thinking only of her son, remained +quite humble. Drawing from her bosom the letter which Jacques had sent +to her the day before she left Sauveterre, she handed it to her +husband, saying,-- + +"Will you read what our son says?" + +The marquis's hand trembled as he took the letter; and, when he had +torn it open, he read,-- + + "Do you forsake me too, father, when everybody forsakes me? And yet + I have never needed your love as much as now. The peril is + imminent. Every thing is against me. Never has such a combination + of fatal circumstances been seen before. I may not be able to + prove my innocence; but you,--you surely cannot think your son + guilty of such an absurd and heinous crime! Oh, no! surely not. My + mind is made up. I shall fight to the bitter end. To my last + breath I shall defend, not my life, but my honor. Ah, if you but + knew! But there are things which cannot be written, and which only + a father can be told. I beseech you come to me, let me see you, + let me hold your hand in mine. Do not refuse this last and + greatest comfort to your unhappy son." + +The marquis had started up. + +"Oh, yes, very unhappy indeed!" he cried. + +And, bowing to his wife, he said,-- + +"I interrupted you. Now, pray tell me all." + +Maternal love conquered womanly resentment. Without a shadow of +hesitation, and as if nothing had taken place, the marchioness gave +her husband the whole of Jacques's statement as he had made it to M. +Magloire. + +The marquis seemed to be amazed. + +"That is unheard of!" he said. + +And, when his wife had finished, he added,-- + +"That was the reason why Jacques was so very angry when you spoke of +inviting the Countess Claudieuse, and why he told you, that, if he saw +her enter at one door, he would walk out of the other. We did not +understand his aversion." + +"Alas! it was not aversion. Jacques only obeyed at that time the +cunning lessons given him by the countess." + +In less than one minute the most contradictory resolutions seemed to +flit across the marquis's face. He hesitated, and at last he said,-- + +"Whatever can be done to make up for my inaction, I will do. I will go +to Sauveterre. Jacques must be saved. M. de Margeril is all-powerful. +Go to him. I permit it. I beg you will do it." + +The eyes of the marchioness filled with tears, hot tears, the first +she had shed since the beginning of this scene. + +"Do you not see," she asked, "that what you wish me to do is now +impossible? Every thing, yes, every thing in the world but that. But +Jacques and I--we are innocent. God will have pity on us. M. Folgat +will save us." + + + + XIX. + +M. Folgat was already at work. He had confidence in his cause, a firm +conviction of the innocence of his client, a desire to solve the +mystery, a love of battle, and an intense thirst for success: all +these motives combined to stimulate the talents of the young advocate, +and to increase his activity. + +And, above all this, there was a mysterious and indefinable sentiment +with which Dionysia had inspired him; for he had succumbed to her +charms, like everybody else. It was not love, for he who says love +says hope; and he knew perfectly well that altogether and forever +Dionysia belonged to Jacques. It was a sweet and all-powerful +sentiment, which made him wish to devote himself to her, and to count +for something in her life and in her happiness. + +It was for her sake that he had sacrificed all his business, and +forgotten his clients, in order to stay at Sauveterre. It was for her +sake, above all, that he wished to save Jacques. + +He had no sooner arrived at the station, and left the Marchioness de +Boiscoran in old Anthony's care, than he jumped into a cab, and had +himself driven to his house. He had sent a telegram the day before; +and his servant was waiting for him. In less than no time he had +changed his clothes. Immediately he went back to his carriage, and +went in search of the man, who, he thought, was most likely to be able +to fathom this mystery. + +This was a certain Goudar, who was connected with the police +department in some capacity or other, and at all events received an +income large enough to make him very comfortable. He was one of those +agents for every thing whom the police keep employed for specially +delicate operations, which require both tact and keen scent, an +intrepidity beyond all doubt, and imperturbable self-possession. M. +Folgat had had opportunities of knowing and appreciating him in the +famous case of the Mutual Discount Society. + +He was instructed to track the cashier who had fled, having a deficit +of several millions. Goudar had caught him in Canada, after pursuing +him for three months all over America; but, on the day of his arrest, +this cashier had in his pocket-book and his trunk only some forty +thousand francs. + +What had become of the millions? + +When he was questioned, he said he had spent them. He had gambled in +stocks, he had become unfortunate, etc. + +Everybody believed him except Goudar. + +Stimulated by the promise of a magnificent reward, he began his +campaign once more; and, in less than six weeks, he had gotten hold of +sixteen hundred thousand francs which the cashier had deposited in +London with a woman of bad character. + +The story is well known; but what is not known is the genius, the +fertility of resources, and the ingenuity of expedients, which Goudar +displayed in obtaining such a success. M. Folgat, however, was fully +aware of it; for he had been the counsel of the stockholders of the +Mutual Discount Society; and he had vowed, that, if ever the +opportunity should come, he would employ this marvellously able man. + +Goudar, who was married, and had a child, lived out of the world on +the road to Versailles, not far from the fortifications. He occupied +with his family a small house which he owned,--a veritable +philosopher's home, with a little garden in front, and a vast garden +behind, in which he raised vegetables and admirable fruit, and where +he kept all kinds of animals. + +When M. Folgat stepped out of his carriage before this pleasant home, +a young woman of twenty-five or twenty-six, of surpassing beauty, +young and fresh, was playing in the front garden with a little girl of +three or four years, all milk and roses. + +"M. Goudar, madam?" asked M. Folgat, raising his hat. + +The young woman blushed slightly, and answered modestly, but without +embarrassment, and in a most pleasing voice,-- + +"My husband is in the garden; and you will find him, if you will walk +down this path around the house." + +The young man followed the direction, and soon saw his man at a +distance. His head covered with an old straw hat, without a coat, and +in slippers, with a huge blue apron such as gardeners wear, Goudar had +climbed up a ladder, and was busy dropping into a horsehair bag the +magnificent Chasselas grapes of his trellises. When he heard the sand +grate under the footsteps of the newcomer, he turned his head, and at +once said,-- + +"Why, M. Folgat? Good morning, sir!" + +The young advocate was not a little surprised to see himself +recognized so instantaneously. He should certainly never have +recognized the detective. It was more than three years since they had +seen each other; and how often had they seen each other then? Twice, +and not an hour each time. + +It is true that Goudar was one of those men whom nobody remembers. Of +middle height, he was neither stout nor thin, neither dark nor light +haired, neither young nor old. A clerk in a passport office would +certainly have written him down thus: Forehead, ordinary; nose, +ordinary; mouth, ordinary, eyes, neutral color; special marks, none. + +It could not be said that he looked stupid; but neither did he look +intelligent. Every thing in him was ordinary, indifferent, and +undecided. Not one marked feature. He would necessarily pass +unobserved, and be forgotten as soon as he had passed. + +"You find me busy securing my crops for the winter," he said to M. +Folgat. "A pleasant job. However, I am at your service. Let me put +these three bunches into their three bags, and I'll come down." + +This was the work of an instant; and, as soon as he had reached the +ground, he turned round, and asked,-- + +"Well, and what do you think of my garden?" + +And at once he begged M. Folgat to visit his domain, and, with all the +enthusiasm of the land-owner, he praised the flavor of his duchess +pears, the bright colors of his dahlias, the new arrangements in his +poultry-yard, which was full of rabbit-houses, and the beauty of his +pond, with its ducks of all colors and all possible varieties. + +In his heart, M. Folgat swore at this enthusiasm. What time he was +losing! But, when you expect a service from a man, you must, at least, +flatter his weak side. He did not spare praise, therefore. He even +pulled out his cigar-case, and, still with a view to win the great +man's good graces, he offered it to him, saying,-- + +"Can I offer you one?" + +"Thanks! I never smoke," replied Goudar. + +And, when he saw the astonishment of the advocate, he explained,-- + +"At least not at home. I am disposed to think the odor is unpleasant +to my wife." + +Positively, if M. Folgat had not known the man, he would have taken +him for some good and simple retired grocer, inoffensive, and any +thing but bright, and, bowing to him politely, he would have taken his +leave. But he had seen him at work; and so he followed him obediently +to his greenhouse, his melon-house, and his marvellous asparagus-beds. + +At last Goudar took his guest to the end of the garden, to a bower in +which were some chairs and a table, saying,-- + +"Now let us sit down, and tell me your business; for I know you did +not come solely for the pleasure of seeing my domain." + +Goudar was one of those men who have heard in their lives more +confessions than ten priests, ten lawyers, and ten doctors all +together. You could tell him every thing. Without a moment's +hesitation, therefore, and without a break, M. Folgat told him the +whole story of Jacques and the Countess Claudieuse. He listened, +without saying a word, without moving a muscle in his face. When the +lawyer had finished, he simply said,-- + +"Well?" + +"First of all," replied M. Folgat, "I should like to hear your +opinion. Do you believe the statement made by M. de Boiscoran?" + +"Why not? I have seen much stranger cases than that." + +"Then you think, that, in spite of the charges brought against him, we +must believe in his innocence?" + +"Pardon me, I think nothing at all. Why, you must study a matter +before you can have an opinion." + +He smiled; and, looking at the young advocate, he said,-- + +"But why all these preliminaries? What do you want of me?" + +"Your assistance to get at the truth." + +The detective evidently expected something of the kind. After a +minute's reflection, he looked fixedly at M. Folgat, and said,-- + +"If I understand you correctly, you would like to begin a counter- +investigation for the benefit of the defence?" + +"Exactly." + +"And unknown to the prosecution?" + +"Precisely." + +"Well, I cannot possibly serve you." + +The young advocate knew too well how such things work not to be +prepared for a certain amount of resistance; and he had thought of +means to overcome it. + +"That is not your final decision, my dear Goudar?" he said. + +"Pardon me. I am not my own master. I have my duty to fulfil, and my +daily occupation." + +"You can at any time obtain leave of absence for a month." + +"So I might; but they would certainly wonder at such a furlough at +headquarters. They would probably have me watched; and, if they found +out that I was doing police work for private individuals, they would +scold me grievously, and deprive themselves henceforth of my +services." + +"Oh!" + +"There is no 'oh!' about it. They would do what I tell you, and they +would be right; for, after all, what would become of us, and what +would become of the safety and liberty of us all, if any one could +come and use the agents of the police for his private purposes? And +what would become of me if I should lose my place?" + +"M. de Boiscoran's family is very rich, and they would prove their +gratitude magnificently to the man who would save him." + +"And if I did not save him? And if, instead of gathering proof of his +innocence, I should only meet with more evidence of his guilt?" + +The objection was so well founded, that M. Folgat preferred not to +discuss it. + +"I might," he said, "hand you at once, and as a retainer, a +considerable sum, which you could keep, whatever the result might be." + +"What sum? A hundred Napoleons? Certainly a hundred Napoleons are not +to be despised; but what would they do for me if I were turned out? I +have to think of somebody else besides myself. I have a wife and a +child; and my whole fortune consists in this little cottage, which is +not even entirely paid for. My place is not a gold-mine; but, with the +special rewards which I receive, it brings me, good years and bad +years, seven or eight thousand francs, and I can lay by two or three +thousand." + +The young lawyer stopped him by a friendly gesture, and said,-- + +"If I were to offer you ten thousand francs?" + +"A year's income." + +"If I offered you fifteen thousand!" + +Goudar made no reply; but his eyes spoke. + +"It is a most interesting case, this case of M. de Boiscoran," +continued M. Folgat, "and such as does not occur often. The man who +should expose the emptiness of the accusation would make a great +reputation for himself." + +"Would he make friends also at the bar?" + +"I admit he would not." + +The detective shook his head. + +"Well, I confess," he said, "I do not work for glory, nor from love of +my art. I know very well that vanity is the great motive-power with +some of my colleagues; but I am more practical. I have never liked my +profession; and, if I continue to practise it, it is because I have +not the money to go into any other. It drives my wife to despair, +besides: she is only half alive as long as I am away; and she trembles +every morning for fear I may be brought home with a knife between my +shoulders." + +M. Folgat had listened attentively; but at the same time he had pulled +out a pocket-book, which looked decidedly plethoric, and placed it on +the table. + +"With fifteen thousand francs," he said, "a man may do something." + +"That is true. There is a piece of land for sale adjoining my garden, +which would suit me exactly. Flowers bring a good price in Paris, and +that business would please my wife. Fruit, also yields a good profit." + +The advocate knew now that he had caught his man. + +"Remember, too, my dear Goudar, that, if you succeed, these fifteen +thousand francs would only be a part payment. They might, perhaps, +double the sum. M. de Boiscoran is the most liberal of men, and he +would take pleasure in royally rewarding the man who should have saved +him." + +As he spoke, he opened the pocket-book, and drew from it fifteen +thousand-franc notes, which he spread out on the table. + +"To any one but to you," he went on, "I should hesitate to pay such a +sum in advance. Another man might take the money, and never trouble +himself about the affair. But I know your uprightness; and, if you +give me your word in return for the notes, I shall be satisfied. Come, +shall it be so?" + +The detective was evidently not a little excited; for, self-possessed +as he was, he had turned somewhat pale. He hesitated, handled the +bank-notes, and then, all of a sudden, said,-- + +"Wait two minutes." + +He got up instantly, and ran towards the house. + +"Is he going to consult his wife?" M. Folgat asked himself. + +He did so; for the next moment they appeared at the other end of the +walk, engaged in a lively discussion. However, the discussion did not +last long. Goudar came back to the bower, and said,-- + +"Agreed! I am your man!" + +The advocate was delighted, and shook his hand. + +"Thank you!" he cried; "for, with your assistance, I am almost sure of +success. Unfortunately, we have no time to lose. When can you go to +work?" + +"This moment. Give me time to change my costume; and I am at your +service. You will have to give me the keys of the house in Passy." + +"I have them here in my pocket." + +"Well, then let us go there at once; for I must, first of all, +reconnoitre the ground. And you shall see if it takes me long to +dress." + +In less than fifteen minutes he reappeared in a long overcoat, with +gloves on, looking, for all the world, like one of those retired +grocers who have made a fortune, and settled somewhere outside of the +corporation of Paris, displaying their idleness in broad daylight, and +repenting forever that they have given up their occupation. + +"Let us go," he said to the lawyer. + +After having bowed to Mrs. Goudar, who accompanied them with a radiant +smile, they got into the carriage, calling out to the driver,-- + +"Vine Street, Passy, No. 23." + +This Vine Street is a curious street, leading nowhere, little known, +and so deserted, that the grass grows everywhere. It stretches out +long and dreary, is hilly, muddy, scarcely paved, and full of holes, +and looks much more like a wretched village lane than like a street +belonging to Paris. No shops, only a few homes, but on the right and +the left interminable walls, overtopped by lofty trees. + +"Ah! the place is well chosen for mysterious rendezvouses," growled +Goudar. "Too well chosen, I dare say; for we shall pick up no +information here." + +The carriage stopped before a small door, in a thick wall, which bore +the traces of the two sieges in a number of places. + +"Here is No. 23," said the driver; "but I see no house." + +It could not be seen from the street; but, when they got in, Mr. +Folgat and Goudar saw it, rising in the centre of an immense garden, +simple and pretty, with a double porch, a slate roof, and newly- +painted blinds. + +"Great God!" exclaimed the detective, "what a place for a gardener!" + +And M. Folgat felt so keenly the man's ill-concealed desire, that he +at once said,-- + +"If we save M. de Boiscoran, I am sure he will not keep this house." + +"Let us go in," cried the detective, in a voice which revealed all his +intense desire to succeed. + +Unfortunately, Jacques de Boiscoran had spoken but too truly, when he +said that no trace was left of former days. Furniture, carpets, all +was new; and Goudar and M. Folgat in vain explored the four rooms down +stairs, and the four rooms up stairs, the basement, where the kitchen +was, and finally the garret. + +"We shall find nothing here," declared the detective. "To satisfy my +conscience, I shall come and spend an afternoon here; but now we have +more important business. Let us go and see the neighbors!" + +There are not many neighbors in Vine Street. + +A teacher and a nurseryman, a locksmith and a liveryman, five or six +owners of houses, and the inevitable keeper of a wine-shop and +restaurant, these were the whole population. + +"We shall soon make the rounds," said Goudar, after having ordered the +coachman to wait for them at the end of the street. + +Neither the head master nor his assistants knew any thing. The +nurseryman had heard it said that No. 23 belonged to an Englishman; +but he had never seen him, and did not even know his name. + +The locksmith knew that he was called Francis Burnett. He had done +some work for him, for which he had been well paid, and thus he had +frequently seen him; but it was so long since, that he did not think +he would recognize him. + +"We are unlucky," said M. Folgat, after this visit. + +The memory of the liveryman was more trustworthy. He said he knew the +Englishman of No. 23 very well, having driven him three or four times; +and the description he gave of him answered fully to Jacques de +Boiscoran. He also remembered that one evening, when the weather was +wretched, Sir Burnett had come himself to order a carriage. It was for +a lady, who had got in alone, and who had been driven to the Place de +la Madeleine. But it was a dark night; the lady wore a thick veil; he +had not been able to distinguish her features, and all he could say +was that she looked above medium height. + +"It is always the same story," said Goudar. "But the wine-merchant +ought to be best informed. If I were alone I would breakfast there." + +"I shall breakfast with you," said M. Folgat. + +They did so, and they did wisely. + +The wine-merchant did not know much; but his waiter, who had been with +him five or six years, knew Sir Burnett, as everybody called the +Englishman, by sight, and was quite well acquainted with the servant- +girl, Suky Wood. While he was bringing in breakfast, he told them all +he knew. + +Suky, he said, was a tall, strapping girl, with hair red enough to set +her bonnets on fire, and graceful enough to be mistaken for a heavy +dragoon in female disguise. He had often had long talks with her when +she came to fetch some ready-made dish, or to buy some beer, of which +she was very fond. She told him she was very pleased with her place, +as she got plenty of money, and had, so to say, nothing to do, being +left alone in the house for nine months in the year. From her the +waiter had also learned that Sir Burnett must have another house, and +that he came to Vine Street only to receive visits from a lady. + +This lady troubled Suky very much. She declared she had never been +able to see the end of her nose even, so very cautious was she in all +her movements; but she intended to see her in spite of all. + +"And you may be sure she managed to do it some time or other," Goudar +whispered into M. Folgat's ear. + +Finally they learned from this waiter, that Suky had been very +intimate with the servant of an old gentleman who lived quite alone in +No. 27. + +"We must see her," said Goudar. + +Luckily the girl's master had just gone out, and she was alone in the +house. At first she was a little frightened at being called upon and +questioned by two unknown men; but the detective knew how to reassure +her very quickly, and, as she was a great talker, she confirmed all +the waiter at the restaurant had told them, and added some details. + +Suky had been very intimate with her; she had never hesitated to tell +her that Burnett was not an Englishman; that his name was not Burnett, +and that he was concealing himself in Vine Street under a false name, +for the purpose of meeting there his lady-love, who was a grand, fine +lady, and marvellously beautiful. Finally, at the outbreak of the war, +Suky had told her that she was going back to England to her relations. +When they left the old bachelor's house, Goudar said to the young +advocate,-- + +"We have obtained but little information, and the jurymen would pay +little attention to it; but there is enough of it to confirm, at least +in part, M. de Boiscoran's statement. We can prove that he met a lady +here who had the greatest interest in remaining unknown. Was this, as +he says, the Countess Claudieuse? We might find this out from Suky; +for she has seen her, beyond all doubt. Hence we must hunt up Suky. +And now, let us take our carriage, and go to headquarters. You can +wait for me at the café near the Palais de Justice. I shall not be +away more than a quarter of an hour." + +It took him, however, a good hour and a half; M. Folgat was beginning +to be troubled, when he at last reappeared, looking very well pleased. + +"Waiter, a glass of beer!" he said. + +And, sitting down so as to face the advocate, he said,-- + +"I stayed away rather long; but I did not lose any time. In the first +place, I procured a month's leave of absence; then I put my hand upon +the very man whom I wanted to send after Sir Burnett and Miss Suky. He +is a good fellow, called Barousse, fine like a needle, and speaks +English like a native. He demands twenty-five francs a day, his +travelling-expenses, and a gratuity of fifteen hundred francs if he +succeeds. I have agreed to meet him at six to give him a definite +answer. If you accept the conditions, he will leave for England +to-night, well drilled by me." + +Instead of any answer, M. Folgat drew from his pocket-book a thousand- +franc note, and said,-- + +"Here is something to begin with." + +Goudar had finished his beer, and said,-- + +"Well, then, I must leave you. I am going to hang abut M. de Tassar's +house, and make my inquiries. Perhaps I may pick up something there. +To-morrow I shall spend my day in searching the house in Vine Street +and in questioning all the tradesmen on your list. The day after +to-morrow I shall probably have finished here. So that in four or five +days there will arrive in Sauveterre a somebody, who will be myself." +And as he got up, he added,-- + +"For I must save M. de Boiscoran. I will and I must do it. He has too +nice a house. Well, we shall see each other at Sauveterre." + +It struck four o'clock. M. Folgat left the café immediately after +Goudar, and went down the river to University Street. He was anxious +to see the marquis and the marchioness. + +"The marchioness is resting," said the valet; "but the marquis is in +his cabinet." + +M. Folgat was shown in, and found him still under the effects of the +terrible scene he had undergone in the morning. He had said nothing to +his wife that he did not really think; but he was distressed at having +said it under such circumstances. And yet he felt a kind of relief; +for, to tell the truth, he felt as if the horrible doubts which he had +kept secret so many years had vanished as soon as they were spoken +out. When he saw M. Folgat, he asked in a sadly-changed voice,-- + +"Well?" + +The young advocate repeated in detail the account given by the +marchioness; but he added what the latter had not been able to +mention, because she did not know it, the desperate resolution which +Jacques had formed. At this revelation the marquis looked utterly +overcome. + +"The unhappy man!" he cried. "And I accused him of-- He thought of +killing himself!" + +"And we had a great trouble, M. Magloire, and myself," added M. +Folgat, "to overcome his resolution, great trouble to make him +understand, that never, under any circumstances, ought an innocent man +to think of committing suicide." + +A big tear rolled down the furrowed cheek of the old gentleman; and he +murmured,-- + +"Ah! I have been cruelly unjust. Poor, unhappy child!" + +Then he added aloud,-- + +"But I shall see him. I have determined to accompany the marchioness +to Sauveterre. When will you leave?" + +"Nothing keeps me here in Paris. I have done all that could be done, +and I might return this evening. But I am really too tired. I think I +shall to-morrow take the train at 10.45." + +"If you do so, we shall travel in company; you understand? To-morrow +at ten o'clock at the Orleans station. We shall reach Sauveterre by +midnight." + + + + XX. + +When the Marchioness de Boiscoran, on the day of her departure for +Paris, had gone to see her son, Dionysia had asked her to let her go +with her. She resisted, and the young girl did not insist. + +"I see they are trying to conceal something from me," she said simply; +"but it does not matter." + +And she had taken refuge in the sitting-room; and there, taking her +usual seat, as in the happy days when Jacques spent all his evenings +by her side, she had remained long hours immovable, looking as if, +with her mind's eye, she was following invisible scenes far away. + +Grandpapa Chandore and the two aunts were indescribably anxious. They +knew their Dionysia, their darling child, better than she knew +herself, having nursed and watched her for twenty years. They knew +every expression of her face, every gesture, every intonation of +voice, and could almost read her thoughts in her features. + +"Most assuredly Dionysia is meditating upon something very serious," +they said. "She is evidently calculating and preparing for a great +resolution." + +The old gentleman thought so too, and asked her repeatedly,-- + +"What are you thinking of, dear child?" + +"Of nothing, dear papa," she replied. + +"You are sadder than usual: why are you so?" + +"Alas! How do I know? Does anybody know why one day we have sunshine +in our hearts, and another day dismal clouds?" + +But the next day she insisted upon being taken to her seamstresses, +and finding Mechinet, the clerk, there, she remained a full half-hour +in conference with him. Then, in the evening, when Dr. Seignebos, +after a short visit, was leaving the room, she lay in wait for him, +and kept him talking a long time at the door. Finally, the day after, +she asked once more to be allowed to go and see Jacques. They could no +longer refuse her this sad satisfaction; and it was agreed that the +older of the two Misses Lavarande, Miss Adelaide, should accompany +her. + +About two o'clock on that day they knocked at the prison-door, and +asked the jailer, who had come to open the door, to let them see +Jacques. + +"I'll go for him at once, madam," replied Blangin. "In the meantime +pray step in here: the parlor is rather damp, and the less you stay in +it, the better it will be." + +Dionysia did so, or rather, she did a great deal more; for, leaving +her aunt down stairs, she drew Mrs. Blangin to the upper room, having +something to say to her, as she pretended. + +When they came down again, Blangin told them that M. de Boiscoran was +waiting for them. + +"Come!" said the young girl to her aunt. + +But she had not taken ten steps in the long narrow passage which led +to the parlor, when she stopped. The damp which fell from the vaulted +ceiling like a pall upon her, and the emotions which were agitating +her heart, combined to overwhelm her. She tottered, and had to lean +against the wall, reeking as it was with wet and with saltpetre. + +"O Lord, you are ill!" cried Miss Adelaide. + +Dionysia beckoned to her to be silent. + +"Oh, it is nothing!" she said. "Be quiet!" + +And gathering up all her strength, and putting her little hand upon +the old lady's shoulder, she said,-- + +"My darling aunty, you must render us an immense service. It is all +important that I should speak to Jacques alone. It would be very +dangerous for us to be overheard. I know they often set spies to +listen to prisoners' talk. Do please, dear aunt, remain here in the +passage, and give us warning, if anybody should come." + +"You do not think of it, dear child. Would it be proper?" + +The young girl stopped her again. + +"Was it proper when I came and spent a night here? Alas! in our +position, every thing is proper that may be useful." + +And, as Aunt Lavarande made no reply, she felt sure of her perfect +submission, and went on towards the parlor. + +"Dionysia!" cried Jacques as soon as she entered,--"Dionysia!" + +He was standing in the centre of this mournful hall, looking whiter +than the whitewash on the wall, but apparently calm, and almost +smiling. The violence with which he controlled himself was horrible. +But how could he allow his betrothed to see his despair? Ought he not, +on the contrary, do every thing to reassure her? + +He came up to her, took her hands in his, and said,-- + +"Ah, it is so kind in you to come! and yet I have looked for you ever +since the morning. I have been watching and waiting, and trembling at +every noise. But will you ever forgive me for having made you come to +a place like this, untidy and ugly, without the fatal poetry of horror +even?" + +She looked at him with such obstinate fixedness, that the words +expired on his lips. + +"Why will you tell me a falsehood?" she said sadly. + +"I tell you a falsehood!" + +"Yes. Why do you affect this gayety and tranquillity, which are so far +from your heart? Have you no longer confidence in me? Do you think I +am a child, from whom the truth must be concealed, or so feeble and +good for nothing, that I cannot bear my share of your troubles? Do not +smile, Jacques; for I know you have no hope." + +"You are mistaken, Dionysia, I assure you." + +"No, Jacques. They are concealing something from me, I know, and I do +not ask you to tell me what it is. I know quite enough. You will have +to appear in court." + +"I beg your pardon. That question has not yet been decided." + +"But it will be decided, and against you." + +Jacques knew very well it would be so, and dreaded it; but he still +insisted upon playing his part. + +"Well," he said, "if I appear in court, I shall be acquitted." + +"Are you quite sure of that?" + +"I have ninety-nine chances out of a hundred for me." + +"There is one, however, against you," cried the young girl. And +seizing Jacques's hands, and pressing them with a force of which he +would never have suspected her, she added,-- + +"You have no right to run that one chance." + +Jacques trembled in all his limbs. Was it possible? Did he understand +her? Did Dionysia herself come and suggest to him that act of supreme +despair, from which his counsel had so strongly dissuaded him?" + +"What do you mean?" he said with trembling voice. + +"You must escape." + +"Escape?" + +"Nothing so easy. I have considered the whole matter thoroughly. The +jailers are in our pay. I have just come to an understanding with +Blangin's wife. One evening, as soon as night falls, they will open +the doors to you. A horse will be ready for you outside of town, and +relays have been prepared. In four hours you can reach Rochelle. +There, one of those pilot-boats which can stand any storm takes you on +board, and carries you to England." + +Jacques shook his head. + +"That cannot be," he replied. "I am innocent. I cannot abandon all I +hold dear,--you, Dionysia." + +A deep flush covered the young girl's cheeks. She stammered,-- + +"I have expressed myself badly. You shall not go alone." + +He raised his hands to heaven, as if in utter despair. + +"Great God! Thou grantest me this consolation!" + +But Dionysia went on speaking in a firmer voice. + +"Did you think I would be mean enough to forsake the friend who is +betrayed by everybody else? No, no! Grandpapa and my aunts will +accompany me, and we will meet you in England. You will change your +name, and go across to America; and we will look out, far in the West, +for some new country where we can establish ourselves. It won't be +France, to be sure. But our country, Jacques, is the country where we +are free, where we are beloved, where we are happy." + +Jacques de Boiscoran was moved to the last fibre of his innermost +heart, and in a kind of ecstasy which did not allow him to keep up any +longer his mask of impassive indifference. Was there a man upon earth +who could receive a more glorious proof of love and devotion? And from +what a woman! From a young girl, who united in herself all the +qualities of which a single one makes others proud,--intelligence and +grace, high rank and fortune, beauty and angelic purity. + +Ah! she did not hesitate like that other one; she did not think of +asking for securities before she granted the first favor; she did not +make a science of duplicity, nor hypocrisy her only virtue. She gave +herself up entirely, and without the slightest reserve. + +And all this at the moment when Jacques saw every thing else around +him crumbled to pieces, when he was on the very brink of utter +despair, just then this happiness came to him, this great and +unexpected happiness, which well-nigh broke his heart. + +For a moment he could not move, he could not think. + +Then all of a sudden, drawing his betrothed to him, pressing her +convulsively to his bosom, and covering her hair with a thousand +kisses, he cried,-- + +"I bless you, oh, my darling! I bless you, my well beloved! I shall +mourn no longer. Whatever may happen, I have had my share of heavenly +bliss." + +She thought he consented. Palpitating like the bird in the hand of a +child, she drew back, and looking at Jacques with ineffable love and +tenderness, she said,-- + +"Let us fix the day!" + +"What day?" + +"The day for your flight." + +This word alone recalled Jacques to a sense of his fearful position. +He was soaring in the supreme heights of the ether, and he was plunged +down into the vile mud of reality. His face, radiant with celestial +joy, grew dark in an instant, and he said hoarsely,-- + +"That dream is too beautiful to be realized." + +"What do you say?" she stammered. + +"I can not, I must not, escape!" + +"You refuse me, Jacques?" + +He made no reply. + +"You refuse me, when I swear to you that I will join you, and share +your exile? Do you doubt my word? Do you fear that my grandfather or +my aunts might keep me here in spite of myself?" + +As this suppliant voice fell upon his ears, Jacques felt as if all his +energy abandoned him, and his will was shaken. + +"I beseech you, Dionysia," he said, "do not insist, do not deprive me +of my courage." + +She was evidently suffering agonies. Her eyes shone with unbearable +fire. Her dry lips were trembling. + +"You will submit to being brought up in court?" she asked. + +"Yes!" + +"And if you are condemned?" + +"I may be, I know." + +"This is madness!" cried the young girl. + +In her despair she was wringing her hands; and then the words escaped +from her lips, almost unconsciously,-- + +"Great God," she said, "inspire me! How can I bend him? What must I +say? Jacques, do you love me no longer? For my sake, if not for your +own, I beseech you, let us flee! You escape disgrace; you secure +liberty. Can nothing touch you? What do you want? Must I throw myself +at your feet?" + +And she really let herself fall at his feet. + +"Flee!" she repeated again and again. "Oh, flee!" + +Like all truly energetic men, Jacques recovered in the very excess of +his emotion all his self-possession. Gathering his bewildered thoughts +by a great effort of mind, he raised Dionysia, and carried her, almost +fainting, to the rough prison bench; then, kneeling down by her side, +and taking her hands he said,-- + +"Dionysia, for pity's sake, come to yourself and listen to me. I am +innocent; and to flee would be to confess that I am guilty." + +"Ah! what does that matter?" + +"Do you think that my escape would stop the trial? No. Although +absent, I should still be tried, and found guilty without any +opposition: I should be condemned, disgraced, irrevocably dishonored." + +"What does it matter?" + +Then he felt that such arguments would never bring her back to reason. +He rose, therefore, and said in a firm voice,-- + +"Let me tell you what you do not know. To flee would be easy, I agree. +I think, as you do, we could reach England readily enough, and we +might even take ship there without trouble. But what then? The cable +is faster than the fastest steamer; and, upon landing on American +soil, I should, no doubt, be met by agents with orders to arrest me. +But suppose even I should escape this first danger. Do you think there +is in all this world an asylum for incendiaries and murderers? There +is none. At the extreme confines of civilization I should still meet +with police-agents and soldiers, who, an extradition treaty in hand, +would give me up to the government of my country. If I were alone, I +might possibly escape all these dangers. But I should never succeed if +I had you near me, and Grandpapa Chandore, and your two aunts." + +Dionysia was forcibly struck by these objections, of which she had had +no idea. She said nothing. + +"Still, suppose we might possibly escape all such dangers. What would +our life be! Do you know what it would mean to have to hide and to run +incessantly, to have to avoid the looks of every stranger, and to +tremble, day by day, at the thought of discovery? With me, Dionysia, +your existence would be that of the wife of one of those banditti whom +the police are hunting down in his dens. And you ought to know that +such a life is so intolerable, that hardened criminals have been +unable to endure it, and have given up their life for the boon of a +night's quiet sleep." + +Big tears were silently rolling down the poor girl's cheeks. She +murmured,-- + +"Perhaps you are right, Jacques. But, O Jacques, if they should +condemn you!" + +"Well, I should at least have done my duty. I should have met fate, +and defended my honor. And, whatever the sentence may be, it will not +overthrow me; for, as long as my heart beats within me, I mean to +defend myself. And, if I die before I succeed in proving my innocence, +I shall leave it to you, Dionysia, to your kindred, and to my friends, +to continue the struggle, and to restore my honor." + +She was worthy of comprehending and of appreciating such sentiments. + +"I was wrong, Jacques," she said, offering him her hand: "you must +forgive me." + +She had risen, and, after a few moments' hesitation, was about to +leave the room, when Jacques retained her, saying,-- + +"I do not mean to escape; but would not the people who have agreed to +favor my evasion be willing to furnish me the means for passing a few +hours outside of my prison?" + +"I think they would," replied the young girl; "And, if you wish it, I +will make sure of it." + +"Yes. That might be a last resort." + +With these words they parted, exhorting each other to keep up their +courage, and promising each other to meet again during the next days. + +Dionysia found her poor aunt Lavarande very tired of the long watch; +and they hastened home. + +"How pale you are!" exclaimed M. de Chandore, when he saw his grand- +daughter; "and how red your eyes are! What has happened?" + +She told him every thing; and the old gentleman felt chilled to the +marrow of his bones, when he found that it had depended on Jacques +alone to carry off his grandchild. But he had not done so. + +"Ah, he is an honest man!" he said. + +And, pressing his lips on Dionysia's brow, he added,-- + +"And you love him more than ever?" + +"Alas!" she replied, "is he not more unhappy than ever?" + + + + XXI. + +"Have you heard the news?" + +"No: what is it?" + +"Dionysia de Chandore has been to see M. de Boiscoran in prison." + +"Is it possible?" + +"Yes, indeed! Twenty people have seen her come back from there, +leaning on the arm of the older Miss Lavarande. She went in at ten +minutes past ten, and she did not come out till a quarter-past three." + +"Is the young woman mad?" + +"And the aunt--what do you think of the aunt?" + +"She must be as mad as the niece." + +"And M. de Chandore?" + +"He must have lost his senses to allow such a scandal. But you know +very well, grandfather and aunts never had any will but Dionysia's." + +"A nice training!" + +"And nice fruits of such an education! After such a scandal, no man +will be bold enough to marry her." + +Such were the comments on Dionysia's visit to Jacques, when the news +became known. It flew at once all over town. The ladies "in society" +could not recover from it; for people are exceedingly virtuous at +Sauveterre, and hence they claim the right of being exceedingly strict +in their judgment. There is no trifling permitted on the score of +propriety. + +The person who defies public opinion is lost. Now, public opinion was +decidedly against Jacques de Boiscoran. He was down, and everybody was +ready to kick him. + +"Will he get out of it?" + +This problem, which was day by day discussed at the "Literary Club," +had called forth torrents of eloquence, terrible discussions, and even +one or two serious quarrels, one of which had ended in a duel. But +nobody asked any longer,-- + +"Is he innocent?" + +Dr. Seignebos's eloquence, the influence of M. Seneschal, and the +cunning plots of Mechinet, had all failed. + +"Ah, what an interesting trial it will be!" said many people, who were +all eagerness to know who would be the presiding judge, in order to +ask him for tickets of admission. Day by day the interest in the trial +became deeper; and all who were in any way connected with it were +watched with great curiosity. Everybody wanted to know what they were +doing, what they thought, and what they had said. + +They saw in the absence of the Marquis de Boiscoran an additional +proof of Jacques's guilt. The continued presence of M. Folgat also +created no small wonder. His extreme reserve, which they ascribed to +his excessive and ill-placed pride, had made him generally disliked. +And now they said,-- + +"He must have hardly any thing to do in Paris, that he can spend so +many months in Sauveterre." + +The editor of "The Sauveterre Independent" naturally found the affair +a veritable gold-mine for his paper. He forgot his old quarrel with +the editor of "The Impartial Journal," whom he accused of Bonapartism, +and who retaliated by calling him a Communist. Each day brought, in +addition to the usual mention under the "local" head, some article on +the "Boiscoran Case." He wrote,-- + + "The health of Count C., instead of improving, is declining + visibly. He used to get up occasionally when he first came to + Sauveterre; and now he rarely leaves his bed. The wound in the + shoulder, which at first seemed to be the least dangerous, has + suddenly become much inflamed, owing to the tropical heat of the + last days. At one time gangrene was apprehended, and it was feared + that amputation would become necessary. Yesterday Dr. S. seemed to + be much disturbed. + + "And, as misfortunes never come singly, the youngest daughter of + Count C. is very ill. She had the measles at the time of the fire; + and the fright, the cold, and the removal, have brought on a + relapse, which may be dangerous. + + "Amid all these cruel trials, the Countess C. is admirable in her + devotion, her courage, and her resignation. Whenever she leaves + the bedside of her dear patients to pray at church for them, she + is received with the most touching sympathy and the most sincere + admiration by the whole population." + +"Ah, that wretch Boiscoran!" cried the good people of Sauveterre when +they read such an article. + +The next day, they found this,-- + + "We have sent to the hospital to inquire from the lady superior how + the poor idiot is, who has taken such a prominent part in the + bloody drama at Valpinson. His mental condition remains unchanged + since he has been examined by experts. The spark of intelligence + which the crime had elicited seems to be extinguished entirely and + forever. It is impossible to obtain a word from him. He is, + however, not locked up. Inoffensive and gentle, like a poor animal + that has lost its master, he wanders mournfully through the courts + and gardens of the hospital. Dr. S., who used to take a lively + interest in him, hardly ever sees him now. + + "It was thought at one time, that C. would be summoned to give + evidence in the approaching trial. We are informed by high + authority, that such a dramatic scene must not be expected to take + place. C. will not appear before the jury." + +"Certainly, Cocoleu's deposition must have been an interposition of +Providence," said people who were not far from believing that it was a +genuine miracle. + +The next day the editor took M. Galpin in hand. + + "M. G., the eminent magistrate, is very unwell just now, and very + naturally so after an investigation of such length and importance + as that which preceded the Boiscoran trial. We are told that he + only awaits the decree of the court, to ask for a furlough and to + go to one of the rural stations of the Pyrenees." + +Then came Jacques's turn,-- + + "M. J. de B. stands his imprisonment better than could be expected. + According to direct information, his health is excellent, and his + spirits do not seem to have suffered. He reads much, and spends + part of the night in preparing his defence, and making notes for + his counsel." + +Then came, from day to day, smaller items,-- + + "M. J. de B. is no longer in close confinement." + +Or,-- + + "M. de B. had this morning an interview with his counsel, M. M., + the most eminent member of our bar, and M. F., a young but + distinguished advocate from Paris. The conference lasted several + hours. We abstain from giving details; but our readers will + understand the reserve required in the case of an accused who + insists upon protesting energetically that he is innocent." + +And, again,-- + + "M. de B. was yesterday visited by his mother." + +Or, finally,-- + + "We hear at the last moment that the Marchioness de B. and M. + Folgat have left for Paris. Our correspondent in P. writes us that + the decree of the court will not be delayed much longer." + +Never had "The Sauveterre Independent" been read with so much +interest. And, as everybody endeavored to be better informed than his +neighbor, quite a number of idle men had assumed the duty of watching +Jacques's friends, and spent their days in trying to find out what was +going on at M. de Chandore's house. Thus it came about, that, on the +evening of Dionysia's visit to Jacques, the street was full of curious +people. Towards half-past ten, they saw M. de Chandore's carriage come +out of the courtyard, and draw up at the door. At eleven o'clock M. de +Chandore and Dr. Seignebos got in, the coachman whipped the horse, and +they drove off. + +"Where can they be going?" asked they. + +They followed the carriage. The two gentlemen drove to the station. +They had received a telegram, and were expecting the return of the +marchioness and M. Folgat, accompanied, this time, by the old marquis. + +They reached there much too soon. The local branch railway which goes +to Sauveterre is not famous for regularity, and still reminds its +patrons occasionally of the old habits of stage-coaches, when the +driver or the conductor had, at the last moment, to stop to pick up +something they had forgotten. At a quarter-past midnight the train, +which ought to have been there twenty minutes before, had not yet been +signalled. Every thing around was silent and deserted. Through the +windows the station-master might be seen fast asleep in his huge +leather chair. Clerks and porters all were asleep, stretched out on +the benches of the waiting-room. But people are accustomed to such +delays at Sauveterre; they are prepared for being kept waiting: and +the doctor and M. de Chandore were walking up and down the platform, +being neither astonished nor impatient at the irregularity. Nor would +they have been much surprised if they had been told that they were +closely watched all the time: they knew their good town. Still it was +so. Two curious men, more obstinate than the others, had jumped into +the omnibus which runs between the station and the town; and now, +standing a little aside, they said to each other,-- + +"I say, what can they be waiting for?" + +At last towards one o'clock, a bell rang, and the station seemed to +start into life. The station-master opened his door, the porters +stretched themselves and rubbed their eyes, oaths were heard, doors +slammed, and the large hand-barrows came in sight. + +Then a low thunder-like noise came nearer and nearer; and almost +instantly a fierce red light at the far end of the track shone out in +the dark night like a ball of fire. M. de Chandore and the doctor +hastened to the waiting-room. + +The train stopped. A door opened, and the marchioness appeared, +leaning on M. Folgat's arm. The marquis, a travelling-bag in hand, +followed next. + +"That was it!" said the volunteer spies, who had flattened their noses +against the window-panes. + +And, as the train brought no other passengers, they succeeded in +making the omnibus conductor start at once, eager as they were to +proclaim the arrival of the prisoner's father. + +The hour was unfavorable: everybody was asleep; but they did not give +up the hope of finding somebody yet at the club. People stay up very +late at the club, for there is play going on there, and at times +pretty heavy play: you can lose your five hundred francs quite readily +there. Thus the indefatigable news-hunters had a fair chance of +finding open ears for their great piece of news. And yet, if they had +been less eager to spread it, they might have witnessed, perhaps not +entirely unmoved, this first interview between M. de Chandore and the +Marquis de Boiscoran. + +By a natural impulse they had both hastened forward, and shook hands +in the most energetic manner. Tears stood in their eyes. They opened +their lips to speak; but they said nothing. Besides, there was no need +of words between them. That close embrace had told Jacques's father +clearly enough what Dionysia's grandfather must have suffered. They +remained thus standing motionless, looking at each other, when Dr. +Seignebos, who could not be still for any length of time, came up, and +asked,-- + +"The trunks are on the carriage: shall we go?" + +They left the station. The night was clear; and on the horizon, above +the dark mass of the sleeping town, there rose against the pale-blue +sky the two towers of the old castle, which now served as prison to +Sauveterre. + +"That is the place where my Jacques is kept," murmured the marquis. +"There my son is imprisoned, accused of horrible crimes." + +"We will get him out of it," said the doctor cheerfully, as he helped +the old gentleman into the carriage. + +But in vain did he try, during the drive, to rouse, as he called it, +the spirits of his companions. His hopes found no echo in their +distressed hearts. + +M. Folgat inquired after Dionysia, whom he had been surprised not to +see at the station. M. de Chandore replied that she had staid at home +with the Misses Lavarande, to keep M. Magloire company; and that was +all. + +There are situations in which it is painful to talk. The marquis had +enough to do to suppress the spasmodic sobs which now and then would +rise in his throat. He was upset by the thought that he was at +Sauveterre. Whatever may be said to the contrary, distance does not +weaken our emotions. Shaking hands with M. de Chandore in person had +moved him more deeply than all the letters he had received for a +month. And when he saw Jacques's prison from afar, he had the first +clear notion of the horrible tortures endured by his son. The +marchioness was utterly exhausted: she felt as if all the springs in +her system were broken. + +M. de Chandore trembled when he looked at them, and saw how they all +were on the point of succumbing. If they despaired, what could he hope +for,--he, who knew how indissolubly Dionysia's fate in life was +connected with Jacques? + +At length the carriage stopped before his house. The door opened +instantly, and the marchioness found herself in Dionysia's arms, and +soon after comfortably seated in an easy-chair. The others had +followed her. It was past two o'clock; but every minute now was +valuable. Arranging his spectacles, Dr. Seignebos said,-- + +"I propose that we exchange our information. I, for my part, I am +still at the same point. But you know my views. I do not give them up. +Cocoleu is an impostor, and it shall be proved. I appear to notice him +no longer; but, in reality, I watch him more closely than ever." + +Dionysia interrupted him, saying,-- + +"Before any thing is decided, there is one fact which you all ought to +know. Listen." + +Pale like death, for it cost her a great struggle to reveal thus the +secret of her heart, but with a voice full of energy, and an eye full +of fire, she told them what she had already confessed to her +grandfather; viz., the propositions she had made to Jacques, and his +obstinate refusal to accede to them. + +"Well done, madame!" said Dr. Seignebos, full of enthusiasm. "Well +done! Jacques is very unfortunate, and still he is to be envied." + +Dionysia finished her recital. Then, turning with a triumphant air to +M. Magloire, she added,-- + +"After that, is there any one yet who could believe that Jacques is a +vile assassin?" + +The eminent advocate of Sauveterre was not one of those men who prize +their opinions more highly than truth itself. + +"I confess," he said, "that, if I were to go and see Jacques to-morrow +for the first time, I should not speak to him as I did before." + +"And I," exclaimed the Marquis de Boiscoran,--"I declare that I answer +for my son as for myself, and I mean to tell him so to-morrow." + +Then turning towards his wife, and speaking so low, that she alone +could hear him, he added,-- + +"And I hope you will forgive me those suspicions which now fill me +with horror." + +But the marchioness had no strength left: she fainted, and had to be +removed, accompanied by Dionysia and the Misses Lavarande. As soon as +they were out of the room, Dr. Seignebos locked the door, rested his +elbow on the chimney, and, taking off his spectacles to wipe them, +said to M. Folgat,-- + +"Now we can speak freely. What news do you bring us?" + + + + XXII. + +It had just struck eleven o'clock, when the jailer, Blangin, entered +Jacques's cell in great excitement, and said,-- + +"Sir, your father is down stairs." + +The prisoner jumped up, thunderstruck. + +The night before he had received a note from M. de Chandore, informing +him of the marquis's arrival; and his whole time had since been spent +in preparing himself for the interview. How would it be? He had +nothing by which to judge. He had therefore determined to be quite +reserved. And, whilst he was following Blangin along the dismal +passage and down the interminable steps, he was busily composing +respectful phrases, and trying to look self-possessed. + +But, before he could utter a single word, he was in his father's arms. +He felt himself pressed against his heart, and heard him stammer,-- + +"Jacques, my dear son, my unfortunate child!" + +In all his life, long and stormy as it had been, the marquis had not +been tried so severely. Drawing Jacques to one of the parlor-windows, +and leaning back a little, so as to see him better, he was amazed how +he could ever have doubted his son. It seemed to him that he was +standing there himself. He recognized his own feature and carriage, +his own frank but rather haughty expression, his own clear, bright +eye. + +Then, suddenly noticing details, he was shocked to see Jacques so much +reduced. He found him looking painfully pale, and he actually +discovered at the temples more than one silvery hair amid his thick +black curls. + +"Poor child!" he said. "How you must have suffered!" + +"I thought I should lose my senses," replied Jacques simply. + +And with a tremor in his voice, he asked,-- + +"But, dear father, why did you give me no sign of life? Why did you +stay away so long?" + +The marquis was not unprepared for such a question. But how could he +answer it? Could he ever tell Jacques the true secret of his +hesitation? Turning his eyes aside, he answered,-- + +"I hoped I should be able to serve you better by remaining in Paris." +But his embarrassment was too evident to escape Jacques. + +"You did not doubt your own child, father?" he asked sadly. + +"Never!" cried the marquis, "I never doubted a moment. Ask your +mother, and she will tell you that it was this proud assurance I felt +which kept me from coming down with her. When I heard of what they +accused you, I said 'It is absurd!' " + +Jacques shook his head, and said,-- + +"The accusation was absurd; and yet you see what it has brought me +to." + +Two big tears, which he could no longer retain, burnt in the eyes of +the old gentleman. + +"You blame me, Jacques," he said. "You blame your father." + +There is not a man alive who could see his father shed tears, and not +feel his heart melt within him. All the resolutions Jacques had formed +vanished in an instant. Pressing his father's hand in his own, he +said,-- + +"No, I do not blame you, father. And still I have no words to tell you +how much your absence has added to my sufferings. I thought I was +abandoned, disowned." + +For the first time since his imprisonment, the unfortunate man found a +heart to whom he could confide all the bitterness that overflowed in +his own heart. With his mother and with Dionysia, honor forbade him to +show despair. The incredulity of M. Magloire had made all confidence +impossible; and M. Folgat, although as sympathetic as man could be +was, after all, a perfect stranger. + +But now he had near him a friend, the dearest and most precious friend +that a man can ever have,--his father: now he had nothing to fear. + +"Is there a human being in this world," he said, "whose misfortunes +equal mine? To be innocent, and not to be able to prove it! To know +the guilty one, and not to dare mention the name. Ah! at first I did +not take in the whole horror of my situation. I was frightened, to be +sure; but I had recovered, thinking that surely justice would not be +slow in discovering the truth. Justice! It was my friend Galpin who +represented it, and he cared little enough for truth: his only aim was +to prove that the man whom he accused was the guilty man. Read the +papers, father, and you will see how I have been victimized by the +most unheard-of combination of circumstances. Every thing is against +me. Never has that mysterious, blind, and absurd power manifested +itself so clearly,--that awful power which we call fate. + +"First I was kept by a sense of honor from mentioning the name of the +Countess Claudieuse, and then by prudence. The first time I mentioned +it to M. Magloire, he told me I lied. Then I thought every thing lost. +I saw no other end but the court, and, after the trial, the galleys or +the scaffold. I wanted to kill myself. My friends made me understand +that I did not belong to myself, and that, as long as I had a spark of +energy and a ray of intelligence left me, I had no right to dispose of +my life." + +"Poor, poor child!" said the marquis. "No, you have no such right." + +"Yesterday," continued Jacques, "Dionysia came to see me. Do you know +what brought her here? She offered to flee with me. Father, that +temptation was terrible. Once free, and Dionysia by my side, what +cared I for the world? She insisted, like the matchless girl that she +is; and look there, there, on the spot where you now stand, she threw +herself at my feet, imploring me to flee. I doubt whether I can save +my life; but I remain here." + +He felt deeply moved, and sank upon the rough bench, hiding his face +in his hands, perhaps to conceal his tears. + +Suddenly, however, he was seized with one of those attacks of rage +which had come to him but too often during his imprisonment, and he +exclaimed,-- + +"But what have I done to deserve such fearful punishment?" + +The brow of the marquis suddenly darkened; and he replied solemnly,-- + +"You have coveted your neighbor's wife, my son." + +Jacques shrugged his shoulders. He said,-- + +"I loved the Countess Claudieuse, and she loved me." + +"Adultery is a crime, Jacques." + +"A crime? Magloire said the same thing. But, father, do you really +think so? Then it is a crime which has nothing appalling about it, to +which every thing invites and encourages, of which everybody boasts, +and at which the world smiles. The law, it is true, gives the husband +the right of life and death; but, if you appeal to the law, it gives +the guilty man six months' imprisonment, or makes him pay a few +thousand francs." + +Ah, if he had known, the unfortunate man! + +"Jacques," said the marquis, "the Countess Claudieuse hints, as you +say, that one of her daughters, the youngest, is your child?" + +"That may be so." + +The Marquis de Boiscoran shuddered. Then he exclaimed bitterly,-- + +"That may be so! You say that carelessly, indifferently, madman! Did +you never think of the grief Count Claudieuse would feel if he should +learn the truth? And even if he merely suspected it! Can you not +comprehend that such a suspicion is quite sufficient to embitter a +whole life, to ruin the life of that girl? Have you never told +yourself that such a doubt inflicts a more atrocious punishment than +any thing you have yet suffered?" + +He paused. A few words more, and he would have betrayed his secret. +Checking his excitement by an heroic effort, he said,-- + +"But I did not come here to discuss this question; I came to tell you, +that, whatever may happen, your father will stand by you, and that, if +you must undergo the disgrace of appearing in court, I will take a +seat by your side." + +In spite of his own great trouble, Jacques had not been able to avoid +seeing his father's unusual excitement and his sudden vehemence. For a +second, he had a vague perception of the truth; but, before the +suspicion could assume any shape, it had vanished before this promise +which his father made, to face by his side the overwhelming +humiliation of a judgment in court,--a promise full of divine self- +abnegation and paternal love. His gratitude burst forth in the +words,-- + +"Ah, father! I ought to ask your pardon for ever having doubted your +heart for a moment." + +M. de Boiscoran tried his best to recover his self-possession. At last +he said in an earnest voice,-- + +"Yes, I love you, my son; and still you must not make me out more of a +hero than I am. I still hope we may be spared the appearance in +court." + +"Has any thing new been discovered?" + +"M. Folgat has found some traces which justify legitimate hopes, +although, as yet, no real success has been achieved." + +Jacques looked rather discouraged. + +"Traces?" he asked. + +"Be patient. They are feeble traces, I admit, and such as could not be +produced in court; but from day to day they may become decisive. And +already they have had one good effect: they have brought us back M. +Magloire." + +"O God! Could I really be saved?" + +"I shall leave to M. Folgat," continued the marquis, "the satisfaction +of telling you the result of his efforts. He can explain their bearing +better than I could. And you will not have long to wait; for last +night, or rather this morning, when we separated, he and M. Magloire +agreed to meet here at the prison, before two o'clock." + +A few minutes later a rapid step approached in the passage; and +Trumence appeared, the prisoner of whom Blangin had made an assistant, +and whom Mechinet had employed to carry Jacques's letters to Dionysia. +He was a tall well-made man of twenty-five or six years, whose large +mouth and small eyes were perpetually laughing. A vagabond without +hearth or home, Trumence had once been a land-owner. At the death of +his parents, when he was only eighteen years old, Trumence had come +into possession of a house surrounded by a yard, a garden, several +acres of land, and a salt meadow; all worth about fifteen thousand +francs. Unfortunately the time for the conscription was near. Like +many young men of that district, Trumence believed in witchcraft, and +had gone to buy a charm, which cost him fifty francs. It consisted of +three tamarind-branches gathered on Christmas Eve, and tied together +by a magic number of hairs drawn from a dead man's head. Having sewed +this charm into his waistcoat, Trumence had gone to town, and, +plunging his hand boldly into the urn, had drawn number three. This +was unexpected. But as he had a great horror of military service, and, +well-made as he was, felt quite sure that he would not be rejected, he +determined to employ a chance much more certain to succeed; namely, to +borrow money in order to buy a substitute. + +As he was a land-owner, he found no difficulty in meeting with an +obliging person, who consented to lend him for two years thirty-five +hundred francs, in return for a first mortgage on his property. When +the papers were signed, and Trumence had the money in his pocket, he +set out for Rochefort, where dealers in substitutes abounded; and for +the sum of two thousand francs, exclusive of some smaller items, they +furnished him a substitute of the best quality. + +Delighted with the operation, Trumence was about to return home, when +his evil star led him to sup at his inn with a countryman, a former +schoolmate, who was now a sailor on board a coal-barge. Of course, +countrymen when they meet must drink. They did drink; and, as the +sailor very soon scented the twelve hundred francs which remained in +Trumence's pockets, he swore that he was going to have a jolly time, +and would not return on board his barge as long as there remained a +cent in his friend's pocket. So it happened, that, after a fortnight's +carouse, the sailor was arrested and put in jail; and Trumence was +compelled to borrow five francs from the stage-driver to enable him to +get home. + +This fortnight was decisive for his life. During these days he had +lost all taste for work, and acquired a real passion for taverns where +they played with greasy cards. After his return he tried to continue +this jolly life; and, to do so, he made more debts. He sold, piece +after piece, all he possessed that was salable, down to his mattress +and his tools. This was not the way to repay the thirty-five hundred +francs which he owed. When pay-day came, the creditor, seeing that his +security was diminishing every day, lost no time. Before Trumence was +well aware of what was going on, an execution was in the house; his +lands were sold; and one fine day he found himself in the street, +possessing literally nothing in the world but the wretched clothes on +his back. + +He might easily have found employment; for he was a good workman, and +people were fond of him in spite of all. But he was even more afraid +of work than he was fond of drink. Whenever want pressed too hard, he +worked a few days; but, as soon as he had earned ten francs, good-by! +Off he went, lounging by the road-side, talking with the wagoners, or +loafing about the villages, and watching for one of those kind topers, +who, rather than drink alone, invite the first-comer. Trumence boasted +of being well known all along the coast, and even far into the +department. And what was most surprising was that people did not blame +him much for his idleness. Good housewives in the country would, it is +true, greet him with a "Well, what do you want here, good-for- +nothing?" But they would rarely refuse him a bowl of soup or a glass +of white wine. His unchanging good-humor, and his obliging +disposition, explained this forbearance. This man, who would refuse a +well-paid job, was ever ready to lend a hand for nothing. And he was +handy at every thing, by land and by water, he called it, so that the +farmer whose business was pressing, and the fisherman in his boat who +wanted help, appealed alike to Trumence. + +The mischief, however, is, that this life of rural beggary, if it has +its good days, also has its evil times. On certain days, Trumence +could not find either kind-hearted topers or hospitable housewives. +Hunger, however, was ever on hand; then he had to become a marauder; +dig some potatoes, and cook them in a corner of a wood, or pilfer the +orchards. And if he found neither potatoes in the fields, nor apples +in the orchards, what could he do but climb a fence, or scale a wall? + +Relatively speaking, Trumence was an honest man, and incapable of +stealing a piece of money; but vegetables, fruits, chickens-- + +Thus it had come about that he had been arrested twice, and condemned +to several days' imprisonment; and each time he had vowed solemnly +that he would never be caught at it again, and that he was going to +work hard. And yet he had been caught again. + +The poor fellow had told his misfortunes to Jacques; and Jacques, who +owed it to him that he could, when still in close confinement, +correspond with Dionysia, felt very kindly towards him. Hence, when he +saw him come up very respectful, and cap in hand, he asked,-- + +"What is it, Trumence?" + +"Sir," replied the vagrant, "M. Blangin sends you word that the two +advocates are coming up to your room." + +Once more the marquis embraced his son, saying,-- + +"Do not keep them waiting, and keep up your courage." + + + + XXIII. + +The Marquis de Boiscoran had not been mistaken about M. Magloire. Much +shaken by Dionysia's statement, he had been completely overcome by M. +Folgat's explanations; and, when he now came to the jail, it was with +a determination to prove Jacques's innocence. + +"But I doubt very much whether he will ever forgive me for my +incredulity," he said to M. Folgat while they were waiting for the +prisoner in his cell. + +Jacques came in, still deeply moved by the scene with his father. M. +Magloire went up to him, and said,-- + +"I have never been able to conceal my thoughts, Jacques. When I +thought you guilty, and felt sure that you accused the Countess +Claudieuse falsely, I told you so with almost brutal candor. I have +since found out my error, and am now convinced of the truth of your +statement: so I come and tell you as frankly, Jacques, I was wrong to +have had more faith in the reputation of a woman than in the words of +a friend. Will you give me your hand?" + +The prisoner grasped his hand with a profusion of joy, and cried,-- + +"Since you believe in my innocence, others may believe in me too, and +my salvation is drawing near." + +The melancholy faces of the two advocates told him that he was +rejoicing too soon. His features expressed his grief; but he said with +a firm voice,-- + +"Well, I see that the struggle will be a hard one, and that the result +is still uncertain. Never mind. You may be sure I will not give way." + +In the meantime M. Folgat had spread out on the table all the papers +he had brought with him,--copies furnished by Mechinet, and notes +taken during his rapid journey. + +"First of all, my dear client," he said, "I must inform you of what +has been done." + +And when he had stated every thing, down to the minutest details of +what Goudar and he had done, he said,-- + +"Let us sum up. We are able to prove three things: 1. That the house +in Vine Street belongs to you, and that Sir Francis Burnett, who is +known there, and you are one; 2. That you were visited in this house +by a lady, who, from all the precautions she took, had powerful +reasons to remain unknown; 3. That the visits of this lady took place +at certain epochs every year, which coincided precisely with the +journeys which the Countess Claudieuse yearly made to Paris." + +The great advocate of Sauveterre expressed his assent. + +"Yes," he said, "all this is fully established." + +"For ourselves, we have another certainty,--that Suky Wood, the +servant of the false Sir Francis Burnett, has watched the mysterious +lady; that she has seen her, and consequently would know her again." + +"True, that appears from the deposition of the girl's friend." + +"Consequently, if we discover Suky Wood, the Countess Claudieuse is +unmasked." + +"If we discover her," said M. Magloire. "And here, unfortunately, we +enter into the region of suppositions." + +"Suppositions!" said M. Folgat. "Well, call them so; but they are +based upon positive facts, and supported by a hundred precedents. Why +should we not find this Suky Wood, whose birthplace and family we +know, and who has no reason for concealment? Goudar has found very +different people; and Goudar is on our side. And you may be sure he +will not be asleep. I have held out to him a certain hope which will +make him do miracles,--the hope of receiving as a reward, if he +succeeds, the house in Vine Street. The stakes are too magnificent: he +must win the game,--he who has won so many already. Who knows what he +may not have discovered since we left him? Has he not done wonders +already?" + +"It is marvellous!" cried Jacques, amazed at these results. + +Older than M. Folgat and Jacques, the eminent advocate of Sauveterre +was less ready to feel such enthusiasm. + +"Yes," he said, "it is marvellous; and, if we had time, I would say as +you do, 'We shall carry the day!' But there is no time for Goudar's +investigations: the sessions are on hand, and it seems to me it would +be very difficult to obtain a postponement." + +"Besides, I do not wish it to be postponed," said Jacques. + +"But"-- + +"On no account, Magloire, never! What? I should endure three months +more of this anguish which tortures me? I could not do it: my strength +is exhausted. This uncertainty has been too much for me. I could bear +no more suspense." + +M. Folgat interrupted him, saying,-- + +"Do not trouble yourself about that: a postponement is out of the +question. On what pretext could we ask for it? The only way would be +to introduce an entirely new element in the case. We should have to +summon the Countess Claudieuse." + +The greatest surprise appeared on Jacques's face. + +"Will we not summon her anyhow?" he asked. + +"That depends." + +"I do not understand you." + +'It is very simple, however. If Goudar should succeed, before the +trial, in collecting sufficient evidence against her, I should summon +her certainly; and then the case would naturally change entirely; the +whole proceeding would begin anew; and you would probably appear only +as a witness. If, on the contrary, we obtain, before the trial begins, +no other proof but what we have now, I shall not mention her name +even; for that would, in my opinion, and in M. Magloire's opinion, +ruin your cause irrevocably." + +"Yes," said the great advocate, "that is my opinion." + +Jacques's amazement was boundless. + +"Still," he said, "in self-defence, I must, if I am brought up in +court, speak of my relations to the Countess Claudieuse." + +"No." + +"But that is my only explanation." + +"If it were credited." + +"And you think you can defend me, you think you can save me, without +telling the truth?" + +M. Folgat shook his head, and said,-- + +"In court the truth is the last thing to be thought of." + +"Oh!" + +"Do you think the jury would credit allegations which M. Magloire did +not credit? No. Well, then, we had better not speak of them any more, +and try to find some explanation which will meet the charges brought +against you. Do you think we should be the first to act thus? By no +means. There are very few cases in which the prosecution says all it +knows, and still fewer in which the defence calls for every thing it +might call for. Out of ten criminal trials, there are at least three +in which side-issues are raised. What will be the charge in court +against you? The substance of the romance which the magistrate has +invented in order to prove your guilt. You must meet him with another +romance which proves your innocence." + +"But the truth." + +"Is dependent on probability, my dear client. Ask M. Magloire. The +prosecution only asks for probability: hence probability is all the +defence has to care for. Human justice is feeble, and limited in its +means; it cannot go down to the very bottom of things; it cannot judge +of motives, and fathom consciences. It can only judge from +appearances, and decide by plausibility; there is hardly a case which +has not some unexplored mystery, some undiscovered secret. The truth! +Ah! do you think M. Galpin has looked for it? If he did, why did he +not summon Cocoleu? But no, as long as he can produce a criminal, who +may be responsible for the crime, he is quite content. The truth! +Which of us knows the real truth? Your case, M. de Boiscoran, is one +of those in which neither the prosecution, nor the defence, nor the +accused himself, knows the truth of the matter." + +There followed a long silence, so deep a silence, that the step of the +sentinel could b heard, who was walking up and down under the prison- +windows. M. Folgat had said all he thought proper to say: he feared, +in saying more, to assume too great a responsibility. It was, after +all, Jacques's life and Jacques's honor which were at stake. He alone, +therefore, ought to decide the nature of his defence. If his judgment +was too forcibly controlled by his counsel, he would have had a right +hereafter to say, "Why did you not leave me free to choose? I should +not have been condemned." + +To show this very clearly, M. Folgat went on,-- + +"The advice I give you, my dear client, is, in my eyes, the best; it +is the advice I would give my own brother. But, unfortunately, I +cannot say it is infallible. You must decide yourself. Whatever you +may resolve, I am still at your service." + +Jacques made no reply. His elbows resting on the table, his face in +his hands, he remained motionless, like a statue, absorbed in his +thoughts. What should he do? Should he follow his first impulse, tear +the veil aside, and proclaim the truth? That was a doubtful policy, +but also, what a triumph if he succeeded! + +Should he adopt the views of his counsel, employ subterfuges and +falsehoods? That was more certain of success; but to be successful in +this way--was that a real victory? + +Jacques was in a terrible perplexity. He felt it but too clearly. The +decision he must form now would decide his fate. Suddenly he raised +his head, and said,-- + +"What is your advice, M. Magloire?" + +The great advocate of Sauveterre frowned angrily; and said, in a +somewhat rough tone of voice,-- + +"I have had the honor to place before your mother all that my young +colleague has just told you. M. Folgat has but one fault,--he is too +cautious. The physician must not ask what his patient thinks of his +remedies: he must prescribe them. It may be that our prescriptions do +not meet with success; but, if you do not follow them, you are most +assuredly lost." + +Jacques hesitated for some minutes longer. These prescriptions, as M. +Magloire called them, were painfully repugnant to his chivalrous and +open character. + +"Would it be worth while," he murmured, "to be acquitted on such +terms? Would I really be exculpated by such proceedings? Would not my +whole life thereafter be disgraced by suspicions? I should not come +out from the trial with a clear acquittal: I should have escaped by a +mere chance." + +"That would still better than to go, by a clear judgment, to the +galleys," said M. Magloire brutally. + +This word, "the galleys," made Jacques bound. He rose, walked up and +down a few times in his room, and then, placing himself in front of +his counsel, said,-- + +"I put myself in your hands, gentlemen. Tell me what I must do." + +Jacques had at least this merit, if he once formed a resolution, he +was sure to adhere to it. Calm now, and self-possessed, he sat down, +and said, with a melancholy smile,-- + +"Let us hear the plan of battle." + +This plan had been for a month now the one great thought of M. Folgat. +All his intelligence, all his sagacity and knowledge of the world, had +been brought to bear upon this case, which he had made his own, so to +say, by his almost passionate interest. He knew the tactics of the +prosecution as well as M. Galpin himself, and he knew its weak and its +strong side even better than M. Galpin. + +"We shall go on, therefore," he began, "as if there was no such person +as the Countess Claudieuse. We know nothing of her. We shall say +nothing of the meeting at Valpinson, nor of the burned letters." + +"That is settled." + +"That being so, we must next look, not for the manner in which we +spent our time, but for our purpose in going out the evening of the +crime. Ah! If we could suggest a plausible, a very probable purpose, I +should almost guarantee our success; for we need not hesitate to say +there is the turning-point of the whole case, on which all the +discussions will turn." + +Jacques did not seem to be fully convinced of this view. He said,-- + +"You think that possible?" + +"Unfortunately, it is but too certain; and, if I say unfortunately, it +is because here we have to meet a terrible charge, the most decisive, +by all means, that has been raised, one on which M. Galpin has not +insisted (he is much too clever for that), but one which, in the hands +of the prosecution, may become a terrible weapon." + +"I must confess," said Jacques, "I do not very well see"-- + +"Have you forgotten the letter you wrote to Miss Dionysia the evening +of the crime?" broke in M. Magloire. + +Jacques looked first at one, and then at the other of his counsel. + +"What," he said, "that letter?" + +"Overwhelms us, my dear client," said M. Folgat. "Don't you remember +it? You told your betrothed in that note, that you would be prevented +from enjoying the evening with her by some business of the greatest +importance, and which could not be delayed? Thus, you see, you had +determined beforehand, and after mature consideration, to spend that +evening in doing a certain thing. What was it? 'The murder of Count +Claudieuse,' says the prosecution. What can we say?" + +"But, I beg your pardon--that letter. Miss Dionysia surely has not +handed it over to them?" + +"No; but the prosecution is aware of its existence. M. de Chandore and +M. Seneschal have spoken of it in the hope of exculpating you, and +have even mentioned the contents. And M. Galpin knows it so well, that +he had repeatedly mentioned it to you, and you have confessed all that +he could desire." + +The young advocate looked among his papers; and soon he had found what +he wanted. + +"Look here," he said, "in your third examination, I find this,-- + + " 'QUESTION.--You were shortly to marry Miss Chandore? + + ANSWER.--Yes. + + Q--For some time you had been spending your evenings with her? + + A.--Yes, all. + + Q.--Except the one of the crime? + + A.--Unfortunately. + + Q.--Then your betrothed must have wondered at your absence? + + A.--No: I had written to her.' " + +"Do you hear, Jacques?" cried M. Magloire. "Notice that M. Galpin +takes care not to insist. He does not wish to rouse your suspicions. +He has got you to confess, and that is enough for him." + +But, in the meantime, M. Folgat had found another paper. + +"In your sixth examination," he went on, "I have noticed this,-- + + " 'Q.--You left your house with your gun on your shoulder, without + any definite aim? + + A.--I shall explain that when I have consulted with counsel. + + Q.--You need no consultation to tell the truth. + + A.--I shall not change my resolution. + + Q.--Then you will not tell me where you were between eight and + midnight? + + A.--I shall answer that question at the same time with the other. + + Q.--You must have had very strong reasons to keep you out, as you + were expected by your betrothed, Miss Chandore? + + A.--I had written to her not to expect me.' " + +"Ah! M. Galpin is a clever fellow," growled M. Magloire. + +"Finally," said M. Folgat, "here is a passage from your last but one +examination,-- + + " 'Q.--When you wanted to send anybody to Sauveterre, whom did you + usually employ? + + A.--The son of one of my tenants, Michael. + + Q.--It was he, I suppose, who, on the evening of the crime, + carried the letter to Miss Chandore, in which you told her not to + expect you? + + A.--Yes. + + Q.--You pretended you would be kept by some important business? + + A.--That is the usual pretext. + + Q.--But in your case it was no pretext. Where had you to go? and + where did you go? + + A.--As long as I have not seen counsel I shall say nothing. + + Q.--Have a care: the system of negation and concealment is + dangerous. + + A.--I know it, and I accept the consequences.' " + +Jacques was dumfounded. And necessarily every accused person is +equally surprised when he hears what he has stated in the examination. +There is not one who does not exclaim,-- + +"What, I said that? Never!" + +He has said it, and there is no denying it; for there it is written, +and signed by himself. How could he ever say so? + +Ah! that is the point. However clever a man may be, he cannot for many +months keep all his faculties on the stretch, and all his energy up to +its full power. He has his hours of prostration and his hours of hope, +his attacks of despair and his moments of courage; and the impassive +magistrate takes advantage of them all. Innocent or guilty, no +prisoner can cope with him. However powerful his memory may be, how +can he recall an answer which he may have given weeks and weeks +before? The magistrate, however, remembers it; and twenty times, if +need be, he brings it up again. And as the small snowflake may become +an irresistible avalanche, so an insignificant word, uttered at +haphazard, forgotten, then recalled, commented upon, and enlarged may +become crushing evidence. + +Jacques now experienced this. These questions had been put to him so +skilfully, and at such long intervals of time, that he had totally +forgotten them; and yet now, when he recalled his answers, he had to +acknowledge that he had confessed his purpose to devote that evening +to some business of great importance. + +"That is fearful!" he cried. + +And, overcome by the terrible reality of M. Folgat's apprehension, he +added,-- + +"How can we get out of that?" + +"I told you," replied M. Folgat, "we must find some plausible +explanation." + +"I am sure I am incapable of that." + +The young lawyer seemed to reflect a moment, and then he said,-- + +"You have been a prisoner while I have been free. For a month now I +have thought this matter over." + +"Ah!" + +"Where was your wedding to be?" + +"At my house at Boiscoran." + +"Where was the religious ceremony to take place?" + +"At the church at Brechy." + +"Have you ever spoken of that to the priest?" + +"Several times. One day especially, when we discussed it in a pleasant +way, he said jestingly to me, 'I shall have you, after all in my +confessional.' " + +M. Folgat almost trembled with satisfaction, and Jacques saw it. + +"Then the priest at Brechy was your friend?" + +"An intimate friend. He sometimes came to dine with me quite +unceremoniously, and I never passed him without shaking hands with +him." + +The young lawyer's joy was growing perceptibly. + +"Well," he said, "my explanation is becoming quite plausible. Just +hear what I have positively ascertained to be the fact. In the time +from nine to eleven o'clock, on the night of the crime, there was not +a soul at the parsonage in Brechy. The priest was dining with M. +Besson, at his house; and his servant had gone out to meet him with a +lantern." + +"I understand," said M. Magloire. + +"Why should you not have gone to see the priest at Brechy, my dear +client? In the first place, you had to arrange the details of the +ceremony with him; then, as he is your friend, and a man of +experience, and a priest, you wanted to ask him for his advice before +taking so grave a step, and, finally, you intended to fulfil that +religious duty of which he spoke, and which you were rather reluctant +to comply with." + +"Well said!" approved the eminent lawyer of Sauveterre,--"very well +said!" + +"So, you see, my dear client, it was for the purpose of consulting the +priest at Brechy that you deprived yourself of the pleasure of +spending the evening with your betrothed. Now let us see how that +answers the allegations of the prosecution. They ask you why you took +to the marshes. Why? Because it was the shortest way, and you were +afraid of finding the priest in bed. Nothing more natural; for it is +well known that the excellent man is in the habit of going to bed at +nine o'clock. Still you had put yourself out in vain; for, when you +knocked at the door of the parsonage, nobody came to open." + +Here M. Magloire interrupted his colleague, saying,-- + +"So far, all is very well. But now there comes a very great +improbability. No one would think of going through the forest of +Rochepommier in order to return from Brechy to Boiscoran. If you knew +the country"-- + +"I know it; for I have carefully explored it. And the proof of it is, +that, having foreseen the objection, I have found an answer. While M. +de Boiscoran knocked at the door, a little peasant-girl passed by, and +told him that she had just met the priest at a place called the +Marshalls' Cross-roads. As the parsonage stands quite isolated, at the +end of the village, such an incident is very probable. As for the +priest, chance led me to learn this: precisely at the hour at which M. +de Boiscoran would have been at Brechy, a priest passed the Marshalls' +Cross-roads; and this priest, whom I have seen, belongs to the next +parish. He also dined at M. Besson's, and had just been sent for to +attend a dying woman. The little girl, therefore, did not tell a +story; she only made a mistake." + +"Excellent!" said M. Magloire. + +"Still," continued M. Folgat, "after this information, what did M. de +Boiscoran do? He went on; and, hoping every moment to meet the priest, +he walked as far as the forest of Rochepommier. Finding, at last, that +the peasant-girl had--purposely or not--led him astray, he determined +to return to Boiscoran through the woods. But he was in very bad humor +at having thus lost an evening which he might have spent with his +betrothed; and this made him swear and curse, as the witness Gaudry +has testified." + +The famous lawyer of Sauveterre shook his head. + +"That is ingenious, I admit; and I confess, in all humility, that I +could not have suggested any thing as good. But--for there is a but-- +your story sins by its very simplicity. The prosecution will say, 'If +that is the truth, why did not M. de Boiscoran say so at once? And +what need was there to consult his counsel?' " + +M. Folgat showed in his face that he was making a great effort to meet +the objection. After a while, he replied,-- + +"I know but too well that that is the weak spot in our armor,--a very +weak spot, too; for it is quite clear, that, if M. de Boiscoran had +given this explanation on the day of his arrest, he would have been +released instantly. But what better can be found? What else can be +found? However, this is only a rough sketch of my plan, and I have +never put it into words yet till now. With your assistance, M. +Magloire, with the aid of Mechinet, to whom I am already indebted for +very valuable information, with the aid of all our friends, in fine, I +cannot help hoping that I may be able to improve my plan by adding +some mysterious secret which may help to explain M. de Boiscoran's +reticence. I thought, at one time, of calling in politics, and to +pretend, that, on account of the peculiar views of which he is +suspected, M. de Boiscoran preferred keeping his relations with the +priest at Brechy a secret." + +"Oh, that would have been most unfortunate!" broke in M. Magloire. "We +are not only religious at Sauveterre, we are devout, my good +colleague,--excessively devout." + +"And I have given up that idea." + +Jacques, who had till now kept silent and motionless, now raised +himself suddenly to his full height, and cried, in a voice of +concentrated rage,-- + +"Is it not too bad, is it not atrocious, that we should be compelled +to concoct a falsehood? And I am innocent! What more could be done if +I were a murderer?" + +Jacques was perfectly right: it was monstrous that he should be +absolutely forced to conceal the truth. But his counsel took no notice +of his indignation: they were too deeply absorbed in examining +minutely their system of defence. + +"Let us go on to the other points of the accusation," said M. +Magloire. + +"If my version is accepted," replied M. Folgat, "the rest follows as a +matter of course. But will they accept it? On the day on which he was +arrested, M. de Boiscoran, trying to find an excuse for having been +out that night, has said that he had gone to see his wood-merchant at +Brechy. That was a disastrous imprudence. And here is the real danger. +As to the rest, that amounts to nothing. There is the water in which +M. de Boiscoran washed his hands when he came home, and in which they +have found traces of burnt paper. We have only to modify the facts +very slightly to explain that. We have only to state that M. de +Boiscoran is a passionate smoker: that is well known. He had taken +with him a goodly supply of cigarettes when he set out for Brechy; but +he had taken no matches. And that is a fact. We can furnish proof, we +can produce witnesses, we had no matches; for we had forgotten our +match-box, the day before, at M. de Chandore's,--the box which we +always carry about on our person, which everybody knows, and which is +still lying on the mantelpiece in Miss Dionysia's little boudoir. +Well, having no matches, we found that we could go no farther without +a smoke. We had gone quite far already; and the question was, Shall we +go on without smoking, or return? No need of either! There was our +gun; and we knew very well what sportsmen do under such circumstances. +We took the shot out of one of our cartridges, and, in setting the +powder on fire, we lighted a piece of paper. This is an operation in +which you cannot help blackening your fingers. As we had to repeat it +several times, our hands were very much soiled and very black, and the +nails full of little fragments of burnt paper." + +"Ah! now you are right," exclaimed M. Magloire. "Well done!" + +His young colleague became more and more animated; and always +employing the profession "we," which his brethren affect, he went +on,-- + +"This water, which you dwell upon so much, is the clearest evidence of +our innocence. If we had been an incendiary, we should certainly have +poured it out as hurriedly as the murderer tries to wash out the +blood-stains on his clothes, which betray him." + +"Very well," said M. Magloire again approvingly. + +"And your other charges," continued M. Folgat, as if he were standing +in court, and addressing the jury,--"your other charges have all the +same weight. Our letter to Miss Dionysia--why do you refer to that? +Because, you say, it proves our premeditation. Ah! there I hold you. +Are we really so stupid and bereft of common sense? That is not our +reputation. What! we premeditate a crime, and we do not say to +ourselves that we shall certainly be convicted unless we prepare an +/alibi/! What! we leave home with the fixed purpose of killing a man, +and we load our gun with small-shot! Really, you make the defence too +easy; for your charges do not stand being examined." + +It was Jacques's turn, this time, to testify his approbation. + +"That is," he said, "what I have told Galpin over and over again; and +he never had any thing to say in reply. We must insist on that point." + +M. Folgat was consulting his notes. + +"I now come to a very important circumstance, and one which I should, +at the trial, make a decisive question, if it should be favorable to +our side. Your valet, my dear client,--your old Anthony,--told me that +he had cleaned and washed your breech-loader the night before the +crime." + +"Great God!" exclaimed Jacques. + +"Well, I see you appreciate the importance of the fact. Between that +cleaning and the time when you set a cartridge on fire, in order to +burn the letters of the Countess Claudieuse, did you fire your gun? If +you did, we must say nothing more about it. If you did not, one of the +barrels of the breech-loader must be clean, and then you are safe." + +For more than a minute, Jacques remained silent, trying to recall the +facts; at last he replied,-- + +"It seems to me, I am sure, I fired at a rabbit on the morning of the +fatal day." + +M. Magloire looked disappointed. + +"Fate again!" he said. + +"Oh, wait!" cried Jacques. "I am quite sure, at all events, that I +killed that rabbit at the first shot. Consequently, I can have fouled +only one barrel of the gun. If I have used the same barrel at +Valpinson, to get a light, I am safe. With a double gun, one almost +instinctively first uses the right-hand barrel." + +M. Magloire's face grew darker. + +"Never mind," he said, "we cannot possibly make an argument upon such +an uncertain chance,--a chance which, in case of error, would almost +fatally turn against us. But at the trial, when they show you the gun, +examine it, so that you can tell me how that matter stands." + +Thus they had sketched the outlines of their plan of defence. There +remained nothing now but to perfect the details; and to this task the +two lawyers were devoting themselves still, when Blangin, the jailer, +called to them through the wicket, that the doors of the prison were +about to be closed. + +"Five minutes more, my good Blangin!" cried Jacques. + +And drawing his two friends aside, as far from the wicket as he could, +he said to them in a low and distressed voice,-- + +"A thought has occurred to me, gentlemen, which I think I ought to +mention to you. It cannot be but that the Countess Claudieuse must be +suffering terribly since I am in prison. However, sure she may be of +having left no trace behind her that could betray her, she must +tremble at the idea that I may, after all, tell the truth in self- +defence. She would deny, I know, and she is so sure of her prestige, +that she knows my accusation would not injure her marvellous +reputation. Nevertheless, she cannot but shrink from the scandal. Who +knows if she might not give us the means to escape from the trial, to +avoid such exposure? Why might not one of you gentleman make the +attempt?" + +M. Folgat was a man of quick resolution. + +"I will try, if you will give me a line of introduction." + +Jacque immediately sat down, and wrote,-- + + "I have told my counsel, M. Folgat, every thing. Save me, and I + swear to you eternal silence. Will you let me perish, Genevieve, + when you know I am innocent? + + "JACQUES." + +"Is that enough?" he asked, handing the lawyer the note. + +"Yes; and I promise you I will see the Countess Claudieuse within the +next forty-eight hours." + +Blangin was becoming impatient; and the two advocates had to leave the +prison. As they crossed the New-Market Square, they noticed, not far +from them, a wandering musician, who was followed by a number of boys +and girls. + +It was a kind of minstrel, dressed in a sort of garment which was no +longer an overcoat and had not yet assumed the shape of a shortcoat. +He was strumming on a wretched fiddle; but his voice was good, and the +ballad he sang had the full flavor of the local accent:-- + + "In the spring, mother Redbreast + Made her nest in the bushes, + The good lady! + Made her nest in the bushes, + The good lady!" + +Instinctively M. Folgat was fumbling in his pocket for a few cents, +when the musician came up to him, held out his hat as if to ask alms, +and said,-- + +"You do not recognize me?" + +The advocate started. + +"You here!" he said. + +"Yes, I myself. I came this morning. I was watching for you; for I +must see you this evening at nine o'clock. Come and open the little +garden-gate at M. de Chandore's for me." + +And, taking up his fiddle again, he wandered off listlessly, singing +with his clear voice,-- + + "And a few, a few weeks later, + She had a wee, a wee bit birdy." + + + + XXIV. + +The great lawyer of Sauveterre had been far more astonished at the +unexpected and extraordinary meeting than M. Folgat. As soon as the +wandering minstrel had left them, he asked his young colleague,-- + +"You know that individual?" + +"That individual," replied M. Folgat, "is none other than the agent +whose services I have engaged, and whom I mentioned to you." + +"Goudar?" + +"Yes, Goudar." + +"And did you not recognize him?" + +The young advocate smiled. + +"Not until he spoke," he replied. "The Goudar whom I know is tall, +thin, beardless, and wears his hair cut like a brush. This street- +musician is low, bearded, and has long, smooth hair falling down his +back. How could I recognize my man in that vagabond costume, with a +violin in his hand, and a provincial song set to music?" + +M. Magloire smiled too, as he said,-- + +"What are, after all, professional actors in comparison with these +men! Here is one who pretends having reached Sauveterre only this +morning, and who knows the country as well as Trumence himself. He has +not been here twelve hours, and he speaks already of M. de Chandore's +little garden-gate." + +"Oh! I can explain that circumstance now, although, at first, it +surprised me very much. When I told Goudar the whole story, I no doubt +mentioned the little gate in connection with Mechinet." + +Whilst they were chatting thus, they had reached the upper end of +National Street. Here they stopped; and M. Magloire said,-- + +"One word before we part. Are you quite resolved to see the Countess +Claudieuse?" + +"I have promised." + +"What do you propose telling her?" + +"I do not know. That depends upon how she receives me." + +"As far as I know her, she will, upon looking at the note, merely +order you out." + +"Who knows! At all events, I shall not have to reproach myself for +having shrunk from a step which in my heart I thought it my duty to +take." + +"Whatever may happen, be prudent, and do not allow yourself to get +angry. Remember that a scene with her would compel us to change our +whole line of defence, and that that is the only one which promises +any success." + +"Oh, do not fear!" + +Thereupon, shaking hands once more, they parted, M. Magloire returning +to his house, and M. Folgat going up the street. It struck half-past +five, and the young advocate hurried on for fear of being too late. He +found them waiting for him to go to dinner; but, as he entered the +room, he forgot all his excuses in his painful surprise at the +mournful and dejected appearance of the prisoner's friends and +relatives. + +"Have we any bad news?" he asked with a hesitating voice. + +"The worst we had to fear," replied the Marquis de Boiscoran. "We had +all foreseen it; and still, as you see, it has surprised us all, like +a clap of thunder." + +The young lawyer beat his forehead, and cried,-- + +"The court has ordered the trial!" + +The marquis only bent his head, as if his voice, had failed him to +answer the question. + +"It is still a great secret," said Dionysia; "and we only know it, +thanks to the indiscretion of our kind, our devoted Mechinet. Jacques +will have to appear before the Assizes." + +She was interrupted by a servant, who entered to announce that dinner +was on the table. + +They all went into the dining-room; but the last event made it well- +nigh impossible for them to eat. Dionysia alone, deriving from +feverish excitement an amazing energy, aided M. Folgat in keeping up +the conversation. From her the young advocate learned that Count +Claudieuse was decidedly worse, and that he would have received, in +the day, the last sacrament, but for the decided opposition of Dr. +Seignebos, who had declared that the slightest excitement might kill +his patient. + +"And if he dies," said M. de Chandore, "that is the finishing stroke. +Public opinion, already incensed against Jacques, will become +implacable." + +However, the meal came to an end; and M. Folgat went up to Dionysia, +saying,-- + +"I must beg of you, madam, to trust me with the key to the little +garden-gate." + +She looked at him quite astonished. + +"I have to see a detective secretly, who has promised me his +assistance." + +"Is he here?" + +"He came this morning." + +When Dionysia had handed him the key, M. Folgat hastened to reach the +end of the garden; and, at the third stroke of nine o'clock, the +minstrel of the New-Market Square, Goudar, pushed the little gate, +and, his violin under his arm, slipped into the garden. + +"A day lost!" he exclaimed, without thinking of saluting the young +lawyer,--"a whole day; for I could do nothing till I had seen you." + +He seemed to be so angry, that M. Folgat tried to soothe him. + +"Let me first of all compliment you on your disguise," he said. But +Goudar did not seem to be open to praise. + +"What would a detective be worth if he could not disguise himself! A +great merit, forsooth! And I tell you, I hate it! But I could not +think of coming to Sauveterre in my own person, a detective. Ugh! +Everybody would have run away; and what a pack of lies they would have +told me! So I had to assume that hideous masquerade. To think that I +once took six months' lessons from a music-teacher merely to fit +myself for that character! A wandering musician, you see, can go +anywhere, and nobody is surprised; he goes about the streets, or he +travels along the high-road; he enters into yards, and slips into +houses; he asks alms: and in so doing, he accosts everybody, speaks to +them, follows them. And as to my precious dialect, you must know I +have been down here once for half a year, hunting up counterfeiters; +and, if you don't catch a provincial accent in six months, you don't +deserve belonging to the police. And I do belong to it, to the great +distress of my wife, and to my own disgust." + +"If your ambition is really what you say, my dear, Goudar," said M. +Folgat, interrupting him, "you may be able to leave your profession +very soon--if you succeed in saving M. de Boiscoran." + +"He would give me his house in Vine Street?" + +"With all his heart!" + +The detective looked up, and repeated slowly,-- + +"The house in Vine Street, the paradise of this world. An immense +garden, a soil of marvellous beauty. And what an exposure! There are +walls there on which I could raise finer peaches than they have at +Montreuil, and richer Chasselas than those of Fontainebleau!" + +"Did you find any thing there?" asked M. Folgat. + +Goudar, thus recalled to business, looked angry again. + +"Nothing at all," he replied. "Nor did I learn any thing from the +tradesmen. I am no further advanced than I was the first day." + +"Let us hope you will have more luck here." + +"I hope so; but I need your assistance to commence operations. I must +see Dr. Seignebos, and Mechinet the clerk. Ask them to meet me at the +place I shall assign in a note which I will send them." + +"I will tell them." + +"Now, if you want my /incognito/ to be respected, you must get me a +permit from the mayor, for Goudar, street-musician. I keep my name, +because here nobody knows me. But I must have the permit this evening. +Wherever I might present myself, asking for a bed, they would call for +my papers." + +"Wait here for a quarter of an hour, there is a bench," said M. +Folgat, "and I'll go at once to the mayor." + +A quarter of an hour later, Goudar had his permit in his pocket, and +went to take lodgings at the Red Lamb, the worst tavern in all +Sauveterre. + +When a painful and inevitable duty is to be performed, the true +character of a man is apt to appear in its true light. Some people +postpone it as long as they can, and delay, like those pious persons +who keep the biggest sin for the end of their confession: others, on +the contrary, are in a hurry to be relieved of their anxiety, and make +an end of it as soon as they can. M. Folgat belonged to this latter +class. + +Next morning he woke up at daylight, and said to himself,-- + +"I will call upon the Countess Claudieuse this morning." + +At eight o'clock, he left the house, dressed more carefully than +usual, and told the servant that he did not wish to be waited for if +he should not be back for breakfast. + +He went first to the court-house, hoping to meet the clerk there. He +was not disappointed. The waiting-rooms were quite deserted yet; but +Mechinet was already at work in his office, writing with the feverish +haste of a man who has to pay for a piece of property that he wants to +call his own. + +When he saw Folgat enter, he rose, and said at once,-- + +"You have heard the decision of the court?" + +"Yes, thanks to your kindness; and I must confess it has not surprised +me. What do they think of it here?" + +"Everybody expects a condemnation." + +"Well, we shall see!" said the young advocate. + +And, lowering his voice, he added,-- + +"But I came for another purpose. The agent whom I expected has come, +and he wishes to see you. He will write to you to make an appointment, +and I hope you will consent." + +"Certainly, with all my heart," replied the clerk. "And God grant that +he may succeed in extricating M. de Boiscoran from his difficulties, +even if it were only to take the conceit out of my master." + +"Ah! is M. Galpin so triumphant?" + +"Without the slightest reserve. He sees his old friend already at the +galleys. He has received another letter of congratulation from the +attorney general, and came here yesterday, when the court had +adjourned, to read it to any one who would listen. Everybody, of +course, complimented him, except the president, who turned his back +upon him, and the commonwealth attorney, who told him in Latin that he +was selling the bear's skin before he had killed him." + +In the meantime steps were heard coming down the passages; and M. +Folgat said hurriedly,-- + +"One more suggestion. Goudar desires to remain unknown. Do not speak +of him to any living soul, and especially show no surprise at the +costume in which you see him." + +The noise of a door which was opened interrupted him. One of the +judges entered, who, after having bowed very civilly, asked the clerk +a number of questions about a case which was to come on the same day. + +"Good-bye, M. Mechinet," said the young advocate. + +And his next visit was to Dr. Seignebos. When he rang the bell, a +servant came to the door, and said,-- + +"The doctor is gone out; but he will be back directly, and has told me +to beg you to wait for him in his study." + +Such an evidence of perfect trust was unheard of. No one was ever +allowed to remain alone in his sanctuary. It was an immense room, +quite full of most varied objects, which at a glance revealed the +opinions, tastes, and predilections of the owner. The first thing to +strike the visitor as he entered was an admirable bust of Bichat, +flanked on either side by smaller busts of Robespierre and Rousseau. A +clock of the time of Louis XIV. stood between the windows, and marked +the seconds with a noise which sounded like the rattling of old iron. +One whole side was filled with books of all kinds, unbound or bound, +in a way which would have set M. Daubigeon laughing very heartily. A +huge cupboard adapted for collections of plants bespoke a passing +fancy for botany; while an electric machine recalled the time when the +doctor believed in cures by electricity. + +On the table in the centre of the room vast piles of books betrayed +the doctor's recent studies. All the authors who have spoken of +insanity or idiocy were there, from Apostolides to Tardien. M. Folgat +was still looking around when Dr. Seignebos entered, always like a +bombshell, but far more cheerful than usual. + +"I knew I should find you here!" he cried still in the door. "You come +to ask me to meet Goudar." + +The young advocate started, and said, all amazed,-- + +"Who can have told you?" + +"Goudar himself. I like that man. I am sure no one will suspect me of +having a fancy for any thing that is connected with the police. I have +had too much to do all my life with spies and that ilk. But your man +might almost reconcile me with that department." + +"When did you see him?" + +"This morning at seven. He was so prodigiously tired of losing his +time in his garret at the Red Lamb, that it occurred to him to pretend +illness, and to send for me. I went, and found a kind of street- +minstrel, who seemed to me to be perfectly well. But, as soon as we +were alone, he told me all about it, asking me my opinion, and telling +me his ideas. M. Folgat, that man Goudar is very clever: I tell you +so; and we understand each other perfectly." + +"Has he told you what he proposes to do?" + +"Nearly so. But he has not authorized me to speak of it. Have +patience; let him go to work, wait, and you will see if old Seignebos +has a keen scent." + +Saying this with an air of sublime conceit, he took off his +spectacles, and set to work wiping them industriously. + +"Well, I will wait," said the young advocate. "And, since that makes +an end to my business here, I beg you will let me speak to you of +another matter. M. de Boiscoran has charged me with a message to the +Countess Claudieuse." + +"The deuce!" + +"And to try to obtain from her the means for our discharge." + +"Do you expect she will do it?" + +M. Folgat could hardly retain an impatient gesture. + +"I have accepted the mission," he said dryly, "and I mean to carry it +out." + +"I understand, my dear sir. But you will not see the countess. The +count is very ill. She does not leave his bedside, and does not even +receive her most intimate friends." + +"And still I must see her. I must at any hazard place a note which my +client has confided to me, in her own hands. And look here, doctor, I +mean to be frank with you. It was exactly because I foresaw there +would be difficulties, that I came to you to ask your assistance in +overcoming or avoiding them." + +"To me?" + +"Are you not the count's physician?" + +"Ten thousand devils!" cried Dr. Seignebos. "You do not mince matters, +you lawyers!" + +And then speaking in a lower tone, and replying apparently to his own +objections rather than to M. Folgat, he said,-- + +"Certainly, I attend Count Claudieuse, whose illness, by the way, +upsets all my theories, and defies all my experience: but for that +very reason I can do nothing. Our profession has certain rules which +cannot be infringed upon without compromising the whole medical +profession." + +"But it is a question of life and death with Jacques, sir, with a +friend." + +"And a fellow Republican, to be sure. But I cannot help you without +abusing the confidence of the Countess Claudieuse." + +"Ah, sir! Has not that woman committed a crime for which M. de +Boiscoran, though innocent, will be arraigned in court?" + +"I think so; but still"-- + +He reflected a moment, and then suddenly snatched up his broad-brimmed +hat, drew it over his head, and cried,-- + +"In fact, so much the worse for her! There are sacred interests which +override every thing. Come!" + + + + XXV. + +Count Claudieuse and his wife had installed themselves, the day after +the fire, in Mautrec Street. The house which the mayor had taken for +them had been for more than a century in the possession of the great +Julias family, and is still considered one of the finest and most +magnificent mansions in Sauveterre. + +In less than ten minutes Dr. Seignebos and M. Folgat had reached the +house. From the street, nothing was visible but a tall wall, as old as +the castle, according to the claims of archaeologists, and covered all +over with a mass of wild flowers. In this wall there is a huge +entrance-gate with folding-doors. During the day one-half is opened, +and a light, low open-work railing put in, which rings a bell as soon +as it is pushed open. + +You then cross a large garden, in which a dozen statues, covered with +green moss, are falling to pieces on their pedestals, overshadowed by +magnificent old linden-trees. The house has only two stories. A large +hall extends from end to end of the lower story; and at the end a wide +staircase with stone steps and a superb iron railing leads up stairs. +When they entered the hall, Dr. Seignebos opened a door on the right +hand. + +"Step in here and wait," he said to M. Folgat. "I will go up stairs +and see the count, whose room is in the second story, and I will send +you the countess." + +The young advocate did as he was bid, and found himself in a large +room, brilliantly lighted up by three tall windows that went down to +the ground, and looked out upon the garden. This room must have been +superb formerly. The walls were wainscoted with arabesques and lines +in gold. The ceiling was painted, and represented a number of fat +little angels sporting in a sky full of golden stars. + +But time had passed its destroying hand over all this splendor of the +past age, had half effaced the paintings, tarnished the gold of the +arabesques, and faded the blue of the ceiling and the rosy little +loves. Nor was the furniture calculated to make compensation for this +decay. The windows had no curtains. On the mantelpiece stood a worn- +out clock and half-broken candelabra; then, here and there, pieces of +furniture that would not match, such as had been rescued from the fire +at Valpinson,--chairs, sofas, arm-chairs, and a round table, all +battered and blackened by the flames. + +But M. Folgat paid little attention to these details. He only thought +of the grave step on which he was venturing, and which he now only +looked at in its full strangeness and extreme boldness. Perhaps he +would have fled at the last moment if he could have done so; and he +was only able by a supreme effort to control his excitement. + +At last he heard a rapid, light step in the hall; and almost +immediately the Countess Claudieuse appeared. He recognized her at +once, such as Jacques had described her to him, calm, serious, and +serene, as if her soul were soaring high above all human passions. Far +from diminishing her exquisite beauty, the terrible events of the last +months had only surrounded her, as it were, with a divine halo. She +had fallen off a little, however. And the dark semicircle under her +eyes, and the disorder of her hair, betrayed the fatigue and the +anxiety of the long nights which she had spent by her husband's +bedside. + +As M. Folgat was bowing, she asked,-- + +"You are M. de Boiscoran's counsel?" + +"Yes, madam," replied the young advocate. + +"The doctor tells me you wish to speak to me." + +"Yes, madam." + +With a queenly air, she pointed to a chair, and, sitting down herself, +she said,-- + +"I hear, sir." + +M. Folgat began with beating heart, but a firm voice,-- + +"I ought, first of all, madam, to state to you my client's true +position." + +"That is useless, sir. I know." + +"You know, madam, that he has been summoned to trial, and that he may +be condemned?" + +She shook her head with a painful movement, and said very softly,-- + +"I know, sir, that Count Claudieuse has been the victim of a most +infamous attempt at murder; that he is still in danger, and that, +unless God works a miracle, I shall soon be without a husband, and my +children without a father." + +"But M. de Boiscoran is innocent, madam." + +The features of the countess assumed an expression of profound +surprise; and, looking fixedly at M. Folgat, she said,-- + +"And who, then, is the murderer?" + +Ah! It cost the young advocate no small effort to prevent his lips +from uttering the fatal word, "You," prompted by his indignant +conscience. But he thought of the success of his mission; and, instead +of replying, he said,-- + +"To a prisoner, madam, to an unfortunate man on the eve of judgment, +an advocate is a confessor, to whom he tells every thing. I must add +that the counsel of the accused is like a priest: he must forget the +secrets which have been confided to him." + +"I do not understand, sir." + +"My client, madam, had a very simple means to prove his innocence. He +had only to tell the truth. He has preferred risking his own honor +rather than to betray the honor of another person." + +The countess looked impatient, and broke in, saying,-- + +"My moments are counted, sir. May I beg you will be more explicit?" + +But M. Folgat had gone as far as he well could go. + +"I am desired by M. de Boiscoran, madam, to hand you a letter." + +The Countess Claudieuse seemed to be overwhelmed with surprise. + +"To me?" she said. "On what ground?" + +Without saying a word, M. Folgat drew Jacques's letter from his +portfolio, and handed it to her. + +"Here it is!" he said. + +She took it with a perfectly steady hand, and opened it slowly. But, +as soon as she had run her eye over it, she rose, turned crimson in +her face, and said with flaming eyes,-- + +"Do you know, sir, what this letter contains?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you know that M. de Boiscoran dares call me by my first name, +Genevieve, as my husband does, and my father?" + +The decisive moment had come, and M. Folgat had all his self- +possession. + +"M. de Boiscoran, madame, claims that he used to call you so in former +days,--in Vine Street,--in days when you called him Jacques." + +The countess seemed to be utterly bewildered. + +"But that is sheer infamy, sir," she stammered. "What! M. de Boiscoran +should have dared tell you that I, the countess Claudieuse, have been +his--mistress?" + +"He certainly said so, madam; and he affirms, that a few moments +before the fire broke out, he was near you, and that, if his hands +were blackened, it was because he had burned your letters and his." + +She rose at these words, and said in a penetrating voice,-- + +"And you could believe that,--you? Ah! M. de Boiscoran's other crimes +are nothing in comparison with this! He is not satisfied with having +burnt our house, and ruined us: he means to dishonor us. He is not +satisfied with having murdered my husband: he must ruin the honor of +his wife also." + +She spoke so loud, that her voice must have been distinctly heard in +the vestibule. + +"Lower, madam, I pray you speak lower," said M. Folgat. + +She cast upon him a crushing glance; and, raising her voice still +higher, she went on,-- + +"Yes, I understand very well that you are afraid of being heard. But I +--what have I to fear? I could wish the whole world to hear us, and to +judge between us. Lower, you say? Why should I speak less loud? Do you +think that if Count Claudieuse were not on his death-bed, this letter +would not have long since been in his hands? Ah, he would soon have +satisfaction for such an infamous letter, he! But I, a poor woman! I +have never seen so clearly that the world thinks my husband is lost +already, and that I am alone in this world, without a protector, +without friends." + +"But, madam, M. de Boiscoran pledges himself to the most perfect +secrecy." + +"Secrecy in what? In your cowardly insults, your abominable plots, of +which this, no doubt, is but a beginning?" + +M. Folgat turned livid under this insult. + +"Ah, take care, madam," he said in a hoarse voice: "we have proof, +absolute, overwhelming proof." + +The countess stopped him by an imperious gesture, and with the +haughtiest disdain, grief, and wrath, she said,-- + +"Well, then, produce your proof. Go, hasten, act as you like. We shall +see if the vile calumnies of an incendiary can stain the pure +reputation of an honest woman. We shall see if a single speck of this +mud in which you wallow can reach up to me." + +And, throwing Jacques's letter at M. Folgat's feet, she went to the +door. + +"Madam," said M. Folgat once more,--"madam!" + +She did not even condescend to turn round: she disappeared, leaving +him standing in the middle of the room, so overcome with amazement, +that he could not collect his thoughts. Fortunately Dr. Seignebos came +in. + +"Upon my word!" he said, "I never thought the countess would take my +treachery so coolly. When she came out from you just now, she asked +me, in the same tone as every day, how I had found her husband, and +what was to be done. I told her"-- + +But the rest of the sentence remained unspoken: the doctor had become +aware of M. Folgat's utter consternation. + +"Why, what on earth is the matter?" he asked. + +The young advocate looked at him with an utterly bewildered air. + +"This is the matter: I ask myself whether I am awake or dreaming. This +is the matter: that, if this woman is guilty, she possesses an +audacity beyond all belief." + +"How, if? Have you changed your mind about her guilt?" + +M. Folgat looked altogether disheartened. + +"Ah!" he said, "I hardly know myself. Do you not see that I have lost +my head, that I do not know what to think, and what to believe?" + +"Oh!" + +"Yes, indeed! And yet, doctor, I am not a simpleton. I have now been +pleading five years in criminal courts: I have had to dive down into +the lowest depths of society; I have seen strange things, and met with +exceptional specimens, and heard fabulous stories"-- + +It was the doctor's turn, now, to be amazed; and he actually forgot to +trouble his gold spectacles. + +"Why? What did the countess say?" he asked. + +"I might tell you every word," replied M. Folgat, "and you would be +none the wiser. You ought to have been here, and seen her, and heard +her! What a woman! Not a muscle in her face was moving; her eye +remained limpid and clear; no emotion was felt in her voice. And with +what an air she defied me! But come, doctor, let us be gone!" + +They went out, and had already gone about a third down the long avenue +in the garden, when they saw the oldest daughter of the countess +coming towards them, on her way to the house, accompanied by her +governess. Dr. Seignebos stopped, and pressing the arm of the young +advocate, and bending over to him, he whispered into his ear,-- + +"Mind!" he said. "You know the truth is in the lips of children." + +"What do you expect?" murmured M. Folgat. + +"To settle a doubtful point. Hush! Let me manage it." + +By this time the little girl had come up to them. It was a very +graceful girl of eight or nine years, light haired, with large blue +eyes, tall for her age, and displaying all the intelligence of a young +girl, without her timidity. + +"How are you, little Martha?" said the doctor to her in his gentlest +voice, which was very soft when he chose. + +"Good-morning, gentlemen!" she replied with a nice little courtesy. + +Dr. Seignebos bent down to kiss her rosy cheeks, and them, looking at +her, he said,-- + +"You look sad, Martha?" + +"Yes, because papa and little sister are sick," she replied with a +deep sigh. + +"And also because you miss Valpinson?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"Still it is very pretty here, and you have a large garden to play +in." + +She shook her head, and, lowering her voice, she said,-- + +"It is certainly very pretty here; but--I am afraid." + +"And of what, little one?" + +She pointed to the statues, and all shuddering, she said,-- + +"In the evening, when it grows dark, I fancy they are moving. I think +I see people hiding behind the trees, like the man who wanted to kill +papa." + +"You ought to drive away those ugly notions, Miss Martha," said M. +Folgat. + +But Dr. Seignebos did not allow him to go on. + +"What, Martha? I did not know you were so timid. I thought, on the +contrary, you were very brave. Your papa told me the night of the fire +you were not afraid of any thing." + +"Papa was right." + +"And yet, when you were aroused by the flames, it must have been +terrible." + +"Oh! it was not the flames which waked me, doctor." + +"Still the fire had broken out." + +"I was not asleep at that time, doctor. I had been roused by the +slamming of the door, which mamma had closed very noisily when she +came in." + +One and the same presentiment made M. Folgat tremble and the doctor. + +"You must be mistaken, Martha," the doctor went on. "Your mamma had +not come back at the time of the fire." + +"Oh, yes, sir!" + +"No, you are mistaken." + +The little girl drew herself up with that solemn air which children +are apt to assume when their statements are doubted. She said,-- + +"I am quite sure of what I say, and I remember every thing perfectly. +I had been put to bed at the usual hour, and, as I was very tired with +playing, I had fallen asleep at once. While I was asleep, mamma had +gone out; but her coming back waked me up. As soon as she came in, she +bent over little sister's bed, and looked at her for a moment so +sadly, that I thought I should cry. Then she went, and sat down by the +window; and from my bed, where I lay silently watching her, I saw the +tears running down her cheeks, when all of a sudden a shot was fired." + +M. Folgat and Dr. Seignebos looked anxiously at each other. + +"Then, my little one," insisted Dr. Seignebos, "you are quite sure +your mamma was in your room when the first shot was fired?" + +"Certainly, doctor. And mamma, when she heard it, rose up straight, +and lowered her head, like one who listens. Almost immediately, the +second shot was fired. Mamma raised her hands to heaven, and cried +out, 'Great God!' And then she went out, running fast." + +Never was a smile more false than that which Dr. Seignebos forced +himself to retain on his lips while the little girl was telling her +story. + +"You have dreamed all that, Martha," he said. + +The governess here interposed, saying,-- + +"The young lady has not dreamed it, sir. I, also, heard the shots +fired; and I had just opened the door of my room to hear what was +going on, when I saw madame cross the landing swiftly, and rush down +stairs. + +"Oh! I do not doubt it," said the doctor, in the most indifferent tone +he could command: "the circumstance is very trifling." + +But the little girl was bent on finishing her story. + +"When mamma had left," she went on, "I became frightened, and raised +myself on my bed to listen. Soon I heard a noise which I did not know, +--cracking and snapping of wood, and then cries at a distance. I got +more frightened, jumped down, and ran to open the door. But I nearly +fell down, there was such a cloud of smoke and sparks. Still I did not +lose my head. I waked my little sister, and tried to get on the +staircase, when Cocoleu rushed in like a madman, and took us both +out." + +"Martha," called a voice from the house, "Martha!" + +The child cut short her story, and said,-- + +"Mamma is calling me." + +And, dropping again her nice little courtesy, she said,-- + +"Good-by, gentlemen!" + +Martha had disappeared; and Dr. Seignebos and M. Folgat, still +standing on the same spot, looked at each other in utter distress. + +"We have nothing more to do here," said M. Folgat. + +"No, indeed! Let us go back and make haste; for perhaps they are +waiting for me. You must breakfast with me." + +They went away very much disheartened, and so absorbed in their +defeat, that they forgot to return the salutations with which they +were greeted in the street,--a circumstance carefully noticed by +several watchful observers. + +When the doctor reached home, he said to his servant,-- + +"This gentleman will breakfast with me. Give us a bottle of medis." + +And, when he had shown the advocate into his study, he asked,-- + +"And now what do you think of your adventure?" + +M. Folgat looked completely undone. + +"I cannot understand it," he murmured. + +"Could it be possible that the countess should have tutored the child +to say what she told us?" + +"No." + +"And her governess?" + +"Still less. A woman of that character trusts nobody. She struggles; +she triumphs or succumbs alone." + +"Then the child and the governess have told us the truth?" + +"I am convinced of that." + +"So am I. Then she had no share in the murder of her husband?" + +"Alas!" + +M. Folgat did not notice that his "Alas!" was received by Dr. +Seignebos with an air of triumph. He had taken off his spectacles, +and, wiping them vigorously, he said,-- + +"If the countess is innocent, Jacques must be guilty, you think? +Jacques must have deceived us all, then?" + +M. Folgat shook his head. + +"I pray you, doctor, do not press me just now. Give me time to collect +my thoughts. I am bewildered by all these conjectures. No, I am sure +M. de Boiscoran has not told a falsehood, and the countess has been +his mistress. No, he has not deceived us; and on the night of the +crime he really had an interview with the countess. Did not Martha +tell us that her mother had gone out? And where could she have gone, +except to meet M. de Boiscoran?" + +He paused a moment. + +"Oh, come, come!" said the physician, "you need not be afraid of me." + +"Well, it might possibly be, that, after the countess had left M. de +Boiscoran, Fate might have stepped in. Jacques has told us how the +letters which he was burning had suddenly blazed up, and with such +violence that he was frightened. Who can tell whether some burning +fragments may not have set a straw-rick on fire? You can judge +yourself. On the point of leaving the place, M. de Boiscoran sees this +beginning of a fire. He hastens to put it out. His efforts are +unsuccessful. The fire increases step by step: it lights up the whole +front of the chateau. At that moment Count Claudieuse comes out. +Jacques thinks he has been watched and detected; he sees his marriage +broken off, his life ruined, his happiness destroyed; he loses his +head, aims, fires, and flees instantly. And thus you explain his +missing the count, and also this fact which seemed to preclude the +idea of premeditated murder, that the gun was loaded with small-shot." + +"Great God!" cried the doctor. + +"What, what have I said?" + +"Take care never to repeat that! The suggestion you make is so +fearfully plausible, that, if it becomes known, no one will ever +believe you when you tell the real truth." + +"The truth? Then you think I am mistaken?" + +"Most assuredly." + +Then fixing his spectacles on his nose, Dr. Seignebos added,-- + +"I never could admit that the countess should have fired at her +husband. I now see that I was right. She has not committed the crime +directly; but she has done it indirectly." + +"Oh!" + +"She would not be the first woman who has done so. What I imagine is +this: the countess had made up her mind, and arranged her plan, before +meeting Jacques. The murderer was already at his post. If she had +succeeded in winning Jacques back, her accomplice would have put away +his gun, and quietly gone to bed. As she could not induce Jacques to +give up his marriage, she made a sign, and the fire was lighted, and +the count was shot." + +The young advocate did not seem to be fully convinced. + +"In that case, there would have been premeditation," he objected; "and +how, then, came the gun to be loaded with small-shot?" + +"The accomplice had not sense enough to know better." + +Although he saw very well the doctor's drift, M. Folgat started up,-- + +"What?" he said, "always Cocoleu?" + +Dr. Seignebos tapped his forehead with the end of his finger, and +replied,-- + +"When an idea has once made its way in there, it remains fixed. Yes, +the countess has an accomplice; and that accomplice is Cocoleu; and, +if he has no sense, you see the wretched idiot at least carries his +devotion and his discretion very far." + +"If what you say is true, doctor, we shall never get the key of this +affair; for Cocoleu will never confess." + +"Don't swear to that. There is a way." + +He was interrupted by the sudden entrance of his servant. + +"Sir," said the latter, "there is a gendarme below who brings you a +man who has to be sent to the hospital at once." + +"Show them up," said the doctor. + +"And, while the servant was gone to do his bidding, the doctor said,-- + +"And here is the way. Now mind!" + +A heavy step was heard shaking the stairs; and almost immediately a +gendarme appeared, who in one hand held a violin, and with the other +aided a poor creature, who seemed unable to walk alone. + +"Goudar!" was on M. Folgat's lips. + +It was Goudar, really, but in what a state! His clothes muddy, and +torn, pale, with haggard eyes, his beard and his lips covered with a +white foam. + +"The story is this," said the gendarme. "This individual was playing +the fiddle in the court of the barrack, and we were looking out of the +window, when all of a sudden he fell on the ground, rolled about, +twisted and writhed, while he uttered fearful howls, and foamed like a +mad dog. We picked him up; and I bring him to you." + +"Leave us alone with him," said the physician. + +The gendarme went out; and, as soon as the door was shut, Goudar cried +with a voice full of intense disgust,-- + +"What a profession! Just look at me! What a disgrace if my wife should +see me in this state! Phew!" + +And, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his face, and +drew from his mouth a small piece of soap. + +"But the point is," said the doctor, "that you have played the +epileptic so well, that the gendarmes have been taken in." + +"A fine trick indeed, and very creditable." + +"An excellent trick, since you can now quite safely go to the +hospital. They will put you in the same ward with Cocoleu, and I shall +come and see you every morning. You are free to act now." + +"Never mind me," said the detective. "I have my plan." + +Then turning to M. Folgat, he added,-- + +"I am a prisoner now; but I have taken my precautions. The agent whom +I have sent to England will report to you. I have, besides, to ask a +favor at your hands. I have written to my wife to send her letters to +you: you can send them to me by the doctor. And now I am ready to +become Cocoleu's companion, and I mean to earn the house in Vine +Street." + +Dr. Seignebos signed an order of admission. He recalled the gendarme; +and, after having praised his kindness, he asked him to take "that +poor devil" to the hospital. When he was alone once more with M. +Folgat, he said,-- + +"Now, my dear friend, let us consult. Shall we speak of what Martha +has told us and of Goudar's plan. I think not; for M. Galpin is +watching us; and, if a mere suspicion of what is going on reaches the +prosecution, all is lost. Let us content ourselves, then, with +reporting to Jacques your interview with the countess; and as to the +rest, Silence!" + + + + XXVI. + +Like all very clever men, Dr. Seignebos made the mistake of thinking +other people as cunning as he was himself. M. Galpin was, of course, +watching him, but by no means with the energy which one would have +expected from so ambitious a man. He had, of course, been the first to +be notified that the case was to be tried in open court, and from that +moment he felt relieved of all anxiety. + +As to remorse, he had none. He did not even regret any thing. He did +not think of it, that the prisoner who was thus to be tried had once +been his friend,--a friend of whom he was proud, whose hospitality he +had enjoyed, and whose favor he had eagerly sought in his matrimonial +aspirations. No. He only saw one thing,--that he had engaged in a +dangerous affair, on which his whole future was depending, and that he +was going to win triumphantly. + +Evidently his responsibility was by no means gone; but his zeal in +preparing the case for trial was no longer required. He need not +appear at the trial. Whatever must be the result, he thought he should +escape the blame, which he should surely have incurred if no true bill +had been found. He did not disguise it from himself that he should be +looked at askance by all Sauveterre, that his social relations were +well-nigh broken off, and that no one would henceforth heartily shake +hands with him. But that gave him no concern. Sauveterre, a miserable +little town of five thousand inhabitants! He hoped with certainty he +would not remain there long; and a brilliant preferment would amply +repay him for his courage, and relieve him from all foolish +reproaches. + +Besides, once in the large city to which he would be promoted, he +could hope that distance would aid in attenuating and even effacing +the impression made by his conduct. All that would be remembered after +a time would be his reputation as one of those famous judges, who, +according to the stereotyped phrase, "sacrifice every thing to the +sacred interests of justice, who put inflexible duty high above all +the considerations that trouble and disturb the vulgar mind, and whose +heart is like a rock, against which all human passions are helplessly +broken to pieces." + +With such a reputation, with his knowledge of the world, and his +eagerness to succeed, opportunities would not be wanting to put +himself forward, to make himself known, to become useful, +indispensable even. He saw himself already on the highest rungs of the +official ladder. He was a judge in Bordeaux, in Lyons, in Paris +itself! + +With such rose-colored dreams he fell asleep at night. The next +morning, as he crossed the streets, his carriage haughtier and stiffer +than ever, his firmly-closed lips, and the cold and severe look of his +eyes, told the curious observers that there must be something new. + +"M. de Boiscoran's case must be very bad indeed," they said, "or M. +Galpin would not look so very proud." + +He went first to the commonwealth attorney. The truth is, he was still +smarting under the severe reproaches of M. Daubigeon, and he thought +he would enjoy his revenge now. He found the old book-worm, as usual, +among his beloved books, and in worse humor than ever. He ignored it, +handed him a number of papers to sign; and when his business was over, +and while he was carefully replacing the documents in his bag with his +monogram on the outside, he added with an air of indifference,-- + +"Well, my dear sir, you have heard the decision of the court? Which of +us was right?" + +M. Daubigeon shrugged his shoulders, and said angrily,-- + +"Of course I am nothing but an old fool, a maniac: I give it up; and I +say, like Horace's man,-- + + 'Stultum me fateor, liceat concedere vires + Atque etiam insanum.' " + +"You are joking. But what would have happened if I had listened to +you?" + +"I don't care to know." + +"M. de Boiscoran would none the less have been sent to a jury." + +"May be." + +"Anybody else would have collected the proofs of his guilt just as +well as I." + +"That is a question." + +"And I should have injured my reputation very seriously; for they +would have called me one of those timid magistrates who are frightened +at a nothing." + +"That is as good a reputation as some others," broke in the +commonwealth attorney. + +He had vowed he would answer only in monosyllables; but his anger made +him forget his oath. He added in a very severe tone,-- + +"Another man would not have been bent exclusively upon proving that M. +de Boiscoran was guilty." + +"I certainly have proved it." + +"Another man would have tried to solve the mystery." + +"But I have solved it, I should think." + +M. Daubigeon bowed ironically, and said,-- + +"I congratulate you. It must be delightful to know the secret of all +things, only you may be mistaken. You are an excellent hand at such +investigations; but I am an older man than you in the profession. The +more I think in this case, the less I understand it. If you know every +thing so perfectly well, I wish you would tell me what could have been +the motive for the crime, for, after all, we do not run the risk of +losing our head without some very powerful and tangible purpose. Where +was Jacques's interest? You will tell me he hated Count Claudieuse. +But is that an answer. Come, go for a moment to your own conscience. +But stop! No one likes to do that." + +M. Galpin was beginning to regret that he had ever come. He had hoped +to find M. Daubigeon quite penitent, and here he was worse than ever. + +"The Court of Inquiry has felt no such scruples," he said dryly. + +"No; but the jury may feel some. They are, occasionally, men of +sense." + +"The jury will condemn M. de Boiscoran without hesitation." + +"I would not swear to that." + +"You would if you knew who will plead." + +"Oh!" + +"The prosecution will employ M. Gransiere!" + +"Oh, oh!" + +"You will not deny that he is a first-class man?" + +The magistrate was evidently becoming angry; his ears reddened up; and +in the same proportion M. Daubigeon regained his calmness. + +"God forbid that I should deny M. Gransiere's eloquence. He is a +powerful speaker, and rarely misses his man. But then, you know, cases +are like books: they have their luck or ill luck. Jacques will be well +defended." + +"I am not afraid of M. Magloire." + +"But Mr. Folgat?" + +"A young man with no weight. I should be far more afraid of M. +Lachant." + +"Do you know the plan of the defence?" + +This was evidently the place where the shoe pinched; but M. Galpin +took care not to let it be seen, and replied,-- + +"I do not. But that does not matter. M. de Boiscoran's friends at +first thought of making capital out of Cocoleu; but they have given +that up. I am sure of that! The police-agent whom I have charged to +keep his eyes on the idiot tells me that Dr. Seignebos does not +trouble himself about the man any more." + +M. Daubigeon smiled sarcastically, and said, much more for the purpose +of teasing his visitor than because he believed it himself,-- + +"Take care! do not trust appearances. You have to do with very clever +people. I always told you Cocoleu is probably the mainspring of the +whole case. The very fact that M. Gransiere will speak ought to make +you tremble. If he should not succeed, he would, of course, blame you, +and never forgive you in all his life. Now, you know he may fail. +'There is many a slip between the cup and the lip.' + +"And I am disposed to think with Villon,-- + + 'Nothing is so certain as uncertain things.' " + +M. Galpin could tell very well that he should gain nothing by +prolonging the discussion, and so he said,-- + +"Happen what may, I shall always know that my conscience supports me." + +Then he made great haste to take leave, lest an answer should come +from M. Daubigeon. He went out; and as he descended the stairs, he +said to himself,-- + +"It is losing time to reason with that old fogy who sees in the events +of the day only so many opportunities for quotations." + +But he struggled in vain against his own feelings; he had lost his +self-confidence. M. Daubigeon had revealed to him a new danger which +he had not foreseen. And what a danger!--the resentment of one of the +most eminent men of the French bar, one of those bitter, bilious men +who never forgive. M. Galpin had, no doubt, thought of the possibility +of failure, that is to say, of an acquittal; but he had never +considered the consequences of such a check. + +Who would have to pay for it? The prosecuting attorney first and +foremost, because, in France, the prosecuting attorney makes the +accusation a personal matter, and considers himself insulted and +humiliated, if he misses his man. + +Now, what would happen in such a case? + +M. Gransiere, no doubt, would hold him responsible. He would say,-- + +"I had to draw my arguments from your part of the work. I did not +obtain a condemnation, because your work was imperfect. A man like +myself ought not to be exposed to such an humiliation, and, least of +all, in a case which is sure to create an immense sensation. You do +not understand your business." + +Such words were a public disgrace. Instead of the hoped-for promotion, +they would bring him an order to go into exile, to Corsica, or to +Algiers. + +M. Galpin shuddered at the idea. He saw himself buried under the ruins +of his castles in Spain. And, unluckily, he went once more over all +the papers of the investigation, analyzing the evidence he had, like a +soldier, who, on the eve of a battle, furbishes up his arms. However, +he only found one objection, the same which M. Daubigeon had made,-- +what interest could Jacques have had in committing so great a crime? + +"There," he said, "is evidently the weak part of the armor; and I +would do well to point it out to M. Gransiere. Jacques's counsel are +capable of making that the turning-point of their plea." + +And, in spite of all he had said to M. Daubigeon, he was very much +afraid of the counsel for the defence. He knew perfectly well the +prestige which M. Magloire derived from his integrity and +disinterestedness. It was no secret to him, that a cause which M. +Magloire espoused was at once considered a good cause. They said of +him,-- + +"He may be mistaken; but whatever he says he believes." He could not +but have a powerful influence, therefore, not on judges who came into +court with well-established opinions, but with jurymen who are under +the influence of the moment, and may be carried off by the eloquence +of a speech. It is true, M. Magloire did not possess that burning +eloquence which thrills a crowd, but M. Folgat had it, and in an +uncommon degree. M. Galpin had made inquiries; and one of his Paris +friends had written to him,-- + + "Mistrust Folgat. He is a far more dangerous logician than Lachant, + and possesses the same skill in troubling the consciences of + jurymen, in moving them, drawing tears from them, and forcing them + into an acquittal. Mind, especially, any incidents that may happen + during the trial; for he has always some kind of surprise in + reserve." + +"These are my adversaries," thought M. Galpin. "What surprise, I +wonder, is there in store for me? Have they really given up all idea +of using Cocoleu?" + +He had no reason for mistrusting his agent; and yet his apprehensions +became so serious, that he went out of his way to look in at the +hospital. The lady superior received him, as a matter of course, with +all the signs of profound respect; and, when he inquired about +Cocoleu, she added,-- + +"Would you like to see him?" + +"I confess I should be very glad to do so." + +"Come with me, then." + +She took him into the garden, and there asked a gardener,-- + +"Where is the idiot?" + +The man put his spade into the ground; and, with that affected +reverence which characterizes all persons employed in a convent, he +answered,-- + +"The idiot is down there in the middle avenue, mother, in his usual +place, you know, which nothing will induce him to leave." + +M. Galpin and the lady superior found him there. They had taken off +the rags which he wore when he was admitted, and put him into the +hospital-dress, which was a large gray coat and a cotton cap. He did +not look any more intelligent for that; but he was less repulsive. He +was seated on the ground, playing with the gravel. + +"Well, my boy," asked M. Galpin, "how do you like this?" + +He raised his inane face, and fixed his dull eye on the lady superior; +but he made no reply. + +"Would you like to go back to Valpinson?" asked the lawyer again. He +shuddered, but did not open his lips. + +"Look here," said M. Galpin, "answer me, and I'll give you a ten-cent +piece." + +No: Cocoleu was at his play again. + +"That is the way he is always," declared the lady superior. "Since he +is here, no one has ever gotten a word out of him. Promises, threats, +nothing has any effect. One day I thought I would try an experiment; +and, instead of letting him have his breakfast, I said to him, 'You +shall have nothing to eat till you say, "I am hungry." ' At the end of +twenty-four hours I had to let him have his pittance; for he would +have starved himself sooner than utter a word." + +"What does Dr. Seignebos think of him?" + +"The doctor does not want to hear his name mentioned," replied the +lady superior. + +And, raising her eyes to heaven, she added,-- + +"And that is a clear proof, that, but for the direct intervention of +Providence, the poor creature would never have denounced the crime +which he had witnessed." + +Immediately, however, she returned to earthly things, and asked,-- + +"But will you not relieve us soon of this poor idiot, who is a heavy +charge on our hospital? Why not send him back to his village, where he +found his support before? We have quite a number of sick and poor, and +very little room." + +"We must wait, sister, till M. de Boiscoran's trial is finished," +replied the magistrate. + +The lady superior looked resigned, and said,-- + +"That is what the mayor told me, and it is very provoking, I must say: +however, they have allowed me to turn him out of the room which they +had given him at first. I have sent him to the Insane Ward. That is +the name we give to a few little rooms, enclosed by a wall, where we +keep the poor insane, who are sent to us provisionally." + +Here she was interrupted by the janitor of the hospital, who came up, +bowing. + +"What do you want?" she asked. + +Vaudevin, the janitor, handed her a note. + +"A man brought by a gendarme," he replied. "Immediately to be +admitted." + +The lady superior read the note, signed by Dr. Seignebos. + +"Epileptic," she said, "and somewhat idiotic: as if we wanted any +more! And a stranger into the bargain! Really Dr. Seignebos is too +yielding. Why does he not send all these people to their own parish to +be taken care of?" + +And, with a very elastic step for her age, she went to the parlor, +followed by M. Galpin and the janitor. They had put the new patient in +there, and, sunk upon a bench, he looked the picture of utter idiocy. +After having looked at him for a minute, she said,-- + +"Put him in the Insane Ward: he can keep Cocoleu company. And let the +sister know at the drug-room. But no, I will go myself. You will +excuse me, sir." + +And then she left the room. M. Galpin was much comforted. + +"There is no danger here," he said to himself. "And if M. Folgat +counts upon any incident during the trial, Cocoleu, at all events, +will not furnish it to him." + + + + XXVII. + +At the same hour when the magistrate left the hospital, Dr. Seignebos +and M. Folgat parted, after a frugal breakfast,--the one to visit his +patients, the other to go to the prison. The young advocate was very +much troubled. He hung his head as he went down the street; and the +diplomatic citizens who compared his dejected appearance with the +victorious air of M. Galpin came to the conclusion that Jacques de +Boiscoran was irrevocably lost. + +At that moment M. Folgat was almost of their opinion. He had to pass +through one of those attacks of discouragement, to which the most +energetic men succumb at times, when they are bent upon pursuing an +uncertain end which they ardently desire. + +The declarations made by little Martha and the governess had literally +overwhelmed him. Just when he thought he had the end of the thread in +his hand, the tangle had become worse than ever. And so it had been +from the commencement. At every step he took, the problem had become +more complicated than ever. At every effort he made, the darkness, +instead of being dispelled, had become deeper. Not that he as yet +doubted Jacques's innocence. No! The suspicion which for a moment had +flashed through his mind had passed away instantly. He admitted, with +Dr. Seignebos, the possibility that there was an accomplice, and that +it was Cocoleu, in all probability, who had been charged with the +execution of the crime. But how could that fact be made useful to the +defence? He saw no way. + +Goudar was an able man; and the manner in which he had introduced +himself into the hospital and Cocoleu's company indicated a master. +But however cunning he was, however experienced in all the tricks of +his profession, how could he ever hope to make a man confess who +intrenched himself behind the rampart of feigned imbecility? If he had +only had an abundance of time before him! But the days were counted, +and he would have to hurry his measures. + +"I feel like giving it up," thought the young lawyer. + +In the meantime he had reached the prison. He felt the necessity of +concealing his anxiety. While Blangin went before him through the long +passages, rattling his keys, he endeavored to give to his features an +expression of hopeful confidence. + +"At last you come!" cried Jacques. + +He had evidently suffered terribly since the day before. A feverish +restlessness had disordered his features, and reddened his eyes. He +was shaking with nervous tremor. Still he waited till the jailer had +shut the door; and then he asked hoarsely,-- + +"What did she say?" + +M. Folgat gave him a minute account of his mission, quoting the words +of the countess almost literally. + +"That is just like her!" exclaimed the prisoner. "I think I can hear +her! What a woman! To defy me in this way!" + +And in his anger he wrung his hands till they nearly bled. + +"You see," said the young advocate, "there is no use in trying to get +outside of our circle of defence. Any new effort would be useless." + +"No!" replied Jacques. "No, I shall not stop there!" + +And after a few moments' reflection,--if he can be said to have been +able to reflect,--he said,-- + +"I hope you will pardon me, my dear sir, for having exposed you to +such insults. I ought to have foreseen it, or, rather, I did foresee +it. I knew that was not the way to begin the battle. But I was a +coward, I was afraid, I drew back, fool that I was! As if I had not +known that we shall at any rate have to come to the last extremity! +Well, I am ready now, and I shall do it!" + +"What do you mean to do?" + +"I shall go and see the Countess Claudieuse. I shall tell her"-- + +"Oh!" + +"You do not think she will deny it to my face? When I once have her +under my eye, I shall make her confess the crime of which I am +accused." + +M. Folgat had promised Dr. Seignebos not to mention what Martha and +her governess had said; but he felt no longer bound to conceal it. + +"And if the countess should not be guilty?" he asked. + +"Who, then, could be guilty?" + +"If she had an accomplice?" + +"Well, she will tell me who it is. I will insist upon it, I will make +her tell. I will not be disgraced. I am innocent, I will not go to the +galleys!" + +To try and make Jacques listen to reason would have been madness just +now. + +"Have a care," said the young lawyer. "Our defence is difficult enough +already; do not make it still more so." + +"I shall be careful." + +"A scene might ruin us irrevocably." + +"Be not afraid!" + +M. Folgat said nothing more. He thought he could guess by what means +Jacques would try to get out of prison. But he did not ask him about +the details, because his position as his counsel made it his duty not +to know, or, at least, to seem not to know, certain things. + +'Now, my dear sir," said the prisoner, "you will render me a service, +will you not?" + +"What is it?" + +"I want to know as accurately as possible how the house in which the +countess lives is arranged." + +Without saying a word, M. Folgat took out a sheet of paper, and drew +on it a plan of the house, as far as he knew,--of the garden, the +entrance-hall, and the sitting-room. + +"And the count's room," asked Jacques, "where is that?" + +"In the upper story." + +"You are sure he cannot get up?" + +"Dr. Seignebos told me so." + +The prisoner seemed to be delighted. + +"Then all is right," he said, "and I have only to ask you, my dear +counsel, to tell Miss Dionysia that I must see her to-day, as soon as +possible. I wish her to come accompanied by one of her aunts only. +And, I beseech you, make haste." + +M. Folgat did hasten; so that, twenty minutes later, he was at the +young lady's house. She was in her chamber. He sent word to her that +he wished to see her; and, as soon as she heard that Jacques wanted +her, she said simply,-- + +"I am ready to go." + +And, calling one of the Misses Lavarande, she told her,-- + +"Come, Aunt Elizabeth, be quick. Take your hat and your shawl. I am +going out, and you are going with me." + +The prisoner counted so fully upon the promptness of his betrothed, +that he had already gone down into the parlor when she arrived at the +prison, quite out of breath from having walked so fast. He took her +hands, and, pressing them to his lips, he said,-- + +"Oh, my darling! how shall I ever thank you for your sublime fidelity +in my misfortune? If I escape, my whole life will not suffice to prove +my gratitude." + +But he tried to master his emotion, and turning to Aunt Elizabeth, he +said,-- + +"Will you pardon me if I beg you to render me once more the service +you have done me before? It is all important that no one should hear +what I am going to say to Dionysia. I know I am watched." + +Accustomed to passive obedience, the good lady left the room without +daring to make the slightest remark, and went to keep watch in the +passage. Dionysia was very much surprised; but Jacques did not give +her time to utter a word. He said at once,-- + +"You told me in this very place, that, if I wished to escape, Blangin +would furnish me the means, did you not?" + +The young girl drew back, and stammered with an air of utter +bewilderment,-- + +"You do not want to flee?" + +"Never! Under no circumstances! But you ought to remember, that, while +resisting all your arguments, I told you, that perhaps, some day or +other, I might require a few hours of liberty." + +"I remember." + +"I begged you to sound the jailer on that point." + +"I did so. For money he will always be ready to do your bidding." + +Jacques seemed to breathe more freely. + +"Well, then," he said again, "the time has come. To-morrow I shall +have to be away all the evening. I shall like to leave about nine; and +I shall be back at midnight." + +Dionysia stopped him. + +"Wait," she said; "I want to call Blangin's wife." + +The household of the jailer of Sauveterre was like many others. The +husband was brutal, imperious, and tyrannical: he talked loud and +positively, and thus made it appear that he was the master. The wife +was humble, submissive, apparently resigned, and always ready to obey; +but in reality she ruled by intelligence, as he ruled by main force. +When the husband had promised any thing, the consent of the wife had +still to be obtained; but, when the wife undertook to do any thing, +the husband was bound through her. Dionysia, therefore, knew very well +that she would have first to win over the wife. Mrs. Blangin came up +in haste, her mouth full of hypocritical assurances of good will, +vowing that she was heart and soul at her dear mistress's command, +recalling with delight the happy days when she was in M. de Chandore's +service, and regretting forevermore. + +"I know," the young girl cut her short, "you are attached to me. But +listen!" + +And then she promptly explained to her what she wanted; while Jacques, +standing a little aside in the shade, watched the impression on the +woman's face. Gradually she raised her head; and, when Dionysia had +finished, she said in a very different tone,-- + +"I understand perfectly, and, if I were the master, I should say, 'All +right!' But Blangin is master of the jail. Well, he is not bad; but he +insists upon doing his duty. We have nothing but our place to live +upon." + +"Have I not paid you as much as your place is worth?" + +"Oh, I know you do not mind paying." + +"You had promised me to speak to your husband about this matter." + +"I have done so; but"-- + +"I would give as much as I did before." + +"In gold?" + +"Well, be it so, in gold." + +A flash of covetousness broke forth from under the thick brows of the +jailer's wife; but, quite self-possessed, she went on,-- + +"In that case, my man will probably consent. I will go and put him +right, and then you can talk to him." + +She went out hastily, and, as soon as she had disappeared, Jacques +asked Dionysia,-- + +"How much have you paid Blangin so far?" + +"Seventeen thousand francs." + +"These people are robbing you outrageously." + +"Ah, what does the money matter? I wish we were both of us ruined, if +you were but free." + +But it had not taken the wife long to persuade the husband. Blangin's +heavy steps were heard in the passage; and almost immediately, he +entered, cap in hand, looking obsequious and restless. + +"My wife has told me every thing," he said, "and I consent. Only we +must understand each other. This is no trifle you are asking for." + +Jacques interrupted him, and said,-- + +"Let us not exaggerate the matter. I do not meant to escape: I only +want to leave for a time. I shall come back, I give you my word of +honor." + +"Upon my life, that is not what troubles me. If the question was only +to let you run off altogether, I should open the doors wide, and say, +'Good-by!' A prisoner who runs away--that happens every day; but a +prisoner who leaves for a few hours, and comes back again-- Suppose +anybody were to see you in town? Or if any one came and wanted to see +you while you are gone? Or if they saw you come back again? What +should I say? I am quite ready to be turned off for negligence. I have +been paid for that. But to be tried as an accomplice, and to be put +into jail myself. Stop! That is not what I mean to do." + +This was evidently but a preface. + +"Oh! why lose so many words? asked Dionysia. "Explain yourself +clearly." + +"Well, M. de Boiscoran cannot leave by the gate. At tattoo, at eight +o'clock, the soldiers on guard at this season of the year go inside +the prison, and until /reveille/ in the morning, or, in others words, +till five o'clock, I can neither open nor shut the gates without +calling the sergeant in command of the post." + +Did he want to extort more money? Did he make the difficulties out +greater than they really were?" + +"After all," said Jacques, "if you consent, there must be a way." + +The jailer could dissemble no longer: he came out with it bluntly. + +"If the thing is to be done, you must get out as if you were escaping +in good earnest. The wall between the two towers is, to my knowledge, +at one place not over two feet thick; and on the other side, where +there are nothing but bare grounds and the old ramparts, they never +put a sentinel. I will get you a crowbar and a pickaxe, and you make a +hole in the wall." + +Jacques shrugged his shoulders. + +"And the next day," he said, "when I am back, how will you explain +that hole?" + +Blangin smiled. + +"Be sure," he replied, "I won't say the rats did it. I have thought of +that too. At the same time with you, another prisoner will run off, +who will not come back." + +"What prisoner?" + +"Trumence, to be sure. He will be delighted to get away, and he will +help you in making the hole in the wall. You must make your bargain +with him, but, of course, without letting him know that I know any +thing. In this way, happen what may, I shall not be in danger." + +The plan was really a good one; only Blangin ought not to have claimed +the honor of inventing it: the idea came from his wife. + +"Well," replied Jacques, "that is settled. Get me the pickaxe and the +crowbar, show me the place where we must make the hole, and I will +take charge of Trumence. To-morrow you shall have the money." + +He was on the point of following the jailer, when Dionysia held him +back; and, lifting up her beautiful eyes to him, she said in a +tremor,-- + +"You see, Jacques, I have not hesitated to dare every thing in order +to procure you a few house of liberty. May I not know what you are +going to do in that time?" + +And, as he made no reply, she repeated,-- + +"Where are you going?" + +A rush of blood colored the face of the unfortunate man; and he said +in an embarrassed voice,-- + +"I beseech you, Dionysia, do not insist upon my telling you. Permit me +to keep this secret, the only one I have ever kept from you." + +Two tears trembled for a moment in the long lashes of the young girl, +and then silently rolled down her cheeks. + +"I understand you," she stammered. "I understand but too well. +Although I know so little of life, I had a presentiment, as soon as I +saw that they were hiding something from me. Now I cannot doubt any +longer. You will go to see a woman to-morrow"-- + +"Dionysia," Jacques said with folded hands,--"Dionysia, I beseech +you!" + +She did not hear him. Gently shaking her heard, she went on,-- + +"A woman whom you have loved, or whom you love still, at whose feet +you have probably murmured the same words which you whispered at my +feet. How could you think of her in the midst of all your anxieties? +She cannot love you, I am sure. Why did she not come to you when she +found that you were in prison, and falsely accused of an abominable +crime?" + +Jacques cold bear it no longer. + +"Great God!" he cried, "I would a thousand times rather tell you every +thing than allow such a suspicion to remain in your heart! Listen, and +forgive me." + +But she stopped him, putting her hand on his lips, and saying, all in +a tremor,-- + +"No, I do not wish to know any thing,--nothing at all. I believe in +you. Only you must remember that you are every thing to me,--hope, +life, happiness. If you should have deceived me, I know but too well-- +poor me!--that I would not cease loving you; but I should not have +long to suffer." + +Overcome with grief and affection, Jacques repeated,-- + +"Dionysia, Dionysia, my darling, let me confess to you who this woman +is, and why I must see her." + +"No," she interrupted him, "no! Do what your conscience bids you do. I +believe in you." + +And instead of offering to let him kiss her forehead, as usual, she +hurried off with her Aunt Elizabeth, and that so quickly, that, when +he rushed after her, he only saw, as it were, a shadow at the end of +the long passage. + +Never until this moment had Jacques found it in his heart really to +hate the Countess Claudieuse with that blind and furious hatred which +dreams of nothing but vengeance. Many a time, no doubt, he had cursed +her in the solitude of his prison; but even when he was most furious +against her, a feeling of pity had risen in his heart for her whom he +had once loved so dearly; for he did not disguise it to himself, he +had once loved her to distraction. Even in his prison he trembled, as +he thought of some of his first meetings with her, as he saw before +his mind's eye her features swimming in voluptuous languor, as he +heard the silvery ring of her voice, or inhaled the perfume she loved +ever to have about her. She had exposed him to the danger of losing +his position, his future, his honor even; and he still felt inclined +to forgive her. But now she threatened him with the loss of his +betrothed, the loss of that pure and chaste love which burnt in +Dionysia's heart, and he could not endure that. + +"I will spare her no longer," he cried, mad with wrath. "I will +hesitate no longer. I have not the right to do so; for I am bound to +defend Dionysia!" + +He was more than ever determined to risk that adventure on the next +day, feeling quite sure now that his courage would not fail him. + +It was Trumence to-night--perhaps by the jailer's skilful management-- +who was ordered to take the prisoner back to his cell, and, according +to the jail-dictionary, to "curl him up" there. He called him in, and +at once plainly told him what he expected him to do. Upon Blangin's +assurance, he expected the vagabond would jump at the mere idea of +escaping from jail. But by no means. Trumence's smiling features grew +dark; and, scratching himself behind the ear furiously, he replied,-- + +"You see--excuse me, I don't want to run away at all." + +Jacques was amazed. If Trumence refused his cooperation he could not +go out, or, at least, he would have to wait. + +"Are you in earnest, Trumence?" he asked. + +"Certainly I am, my dear sir. Here, you see, I am not so badly off: I +have a good bed, I have two meals a day, I have nothing to do, and I +pick up now and then, from one man or another, a few cents to buy me a +pinch of tobacco or a glass of wine." + +"But your liberty?" + +"Well, I shall get that too. I have committed no crime. I may have +gotten over a wall into an orchard; but people are not hanged for +that. I have consulted M. Magloire, and he told me precisely how I +stand. They will try me in a police-court, and they will give me three +or four months. Well, that is not so very bad. But, if I run away, +they put the gendarmes on my track; they bring me back here; and then +I know how they will treat me. Besides, to break jail is a grave +offence." + +How could he overcome such wise conclusions and such excellent +reasons? Jacques was very much troubled. + +"Why should the gendarmes take you again?" he asked. + +"Because they are gendarmes, my dear sir. And then, that is not all. +If it were spring, I should say at once, 'I am your man.' But we have +autumn now; we are going to have bad weather; work will be scarce." + +Although an incurable idler, Trumence had always a good deal to say +about work. + +"You won't help them in the vintage?" asked Jacques. + +The vagabond looked almost repenting. + +"To be sure, the vintage must have commenced," he said. + +"Well?" + +"But that only lasts a fortnight, and then comes winter. And winter is +no man's friend: it's my enemy. I know I have been without a place to +lie down when it has been freezing to split stones, and the snow was a +foot deep. Oh! here they have stoves, and the Board gives very warm +clothes." + +"Yes; but there are no merry evenings here, Trumence, eh? None of +those merry evenings, when the hot wine goes round, and you tell the +girls all sorts of stories, while you are shelling peas, or shucking +corn?" + +"Oh! I know. I do enjoy those evenings. But the cold! Where should I +go when I have not a cent?" + +That was exactly where Jacques wanted to lead him. + +"I have money," he said. + +"I know you have." + +"You do not think I would let you go off with empty pockets? I would +give you any thing you may ask." + +"Really?" cried the vagrant. + +And looking at Jacques with a mingled expression of hope, surprise, +and delight, he added,-- + +"You see I should want a good deal. Winter is long. I should want--let +me see, I should want fifty Napoleons!" + +"You shall have a hundred," said Jacques. + +Trumence's eyes began to dance. He probably had a vision of those +irresistible taverns at Rochefort, where he had led such a merry life. +But he could not believe such happiness to be real. + +"You are not making fun of me?" he asked timidly. + +"Do you want the whole sum at once?" replied Jacques. "Wait." + +He drew from the drawer in his table a thousand-franc note. But, at +the sight of the note, the vagrant drew back the hand which he had +promptly stretched out to take the money. + +"Oh! that kind? No! I know what that paper is worth: I have had some +of them myself. But what could I do with one of them now? It would not +be worth more to me than a leaf of a tree; for, at the first place I +should want it changed, they would arrest me." + +"That is easily remedied. By to-morrow I shall have gold, or small +notes, so you can have your choice." + +This time Trumence clapped his hands in great joy. + +"Give me some of one kind, and some of the other," he said, "and I am +your man! Hurrah for liberty! Where is that wall that we are to go +through?" + +"I will show you to-morrow; and till them, Trumence, silence." + +It was only the next day that Blangin showed Jacques the place where +the wall had least thickness. It was in a kind of cellar, where nobody +ever came, and where cast-off tools were stored away. + +"In order that you may not be interrupted," said the jailer, "I will +ask two of my comrades to dine with me, and I shall invite the +sergeant on duty. They will enjoy themselves, and never think of the +prisoners. My wife will keep a sharp lookout; and, if any of the +rounds should come this way, she would warn you, and quick, quick, you +would be back in your room." + +All was settled; and, as soon as night came, Jacques and Trumence, +taking a candle with them, slipped down into the cellar, and went to +work. It was a hard task to get through this old wall, and Jacques +would never have been able to accomplish it alone. The thickness was +even less than what Blangin had stated it to be; but the hardness was +far beyond expectation. Our fathers built well. In course of time the +cement had become one with the stone, and acquired the same hardness. +It was as if they had attacked a block of granite. The vagrant had, +fortunately, a strong arm; and, in spite of the precautions which they +had to take to prevent being heard, he had, in less than an hour, made +a hole through which a man could pass. He put his head in; and, after +a moment's examination, he said,-- + +"All right! The night is dark, and the place is deserted. Upon my +word, I will risk it!" + +He went through; Jacques followed; and instinctively they hastened +towards a place where several trees made a dark shadow. Once there, +Jacques handed Trumence a package of five-franc notes, and said,-- + +"Add this to the hundred Napoleons I have given you before. Thank you: +you are a good fellow, and, if I get out of my trouble, I will not +forget you. And now let us part. Make haste, be careful, and good +luck!" + +After these words he went off rapidly. But Trumence did not march off +in the opposite direction, as had been agreed upon. + +"Anyhow," said the poor vagrant to himself, "this is a curious story +about the poor gentleman. Where on earth can he be going?" + +And, curiosity getting the better of prudence, he followed him. + + + + XXVIII. + +Jacques de Boiscoran went straight to Mautrec Street. But he knew with +what horror he was looked upon by the population; and in order to +avoid being recognized, and perhaps arrested, he did not take the most +direct route, nor did he choose the more frequented streets. He went a +long way around, and well-nigh lost himself in the winding, dark lanes +of the old town. He walked along in Feverish haste, turning aside from +the rare passers-by, pulling his felt hat down over his eyes, and, for +still greater safety, holding his handkerchief over his face. It was +nearly half-past nine when he at last reached the house inhabited by +Count and Countess Claudieuse. The little gate had been taken out, and +the great doors were closed. + +Never mind! Jacques had his plan. He rang the bell. + +A maid, who did not know him, came to the door. + +"Is the Countess Claudieuse in?" he asked. + +"The countess does not see anybody," replied the girl. "She is sitting +up with the count, who is very ill to-night." + +"But I must see her." + +"Impossible." + +"Tell her that a gentleman who has been sent by M. Galpin desires to +see her for a moment. It is the Boiscoran affair." + +"Why did you not say so at once?" said the servant. "Come in." And +forgetting, in her hurry, to close the gates again, she went before +Jacques through the garden, showed him into the vestibule, and then +opened the parlor-door, saying,-- + +"Will you please go in here and sit down, while I go to tell the +countess?" + +After lighting one of the candles on the mantelpiece, she went out. So +far, every thing had gone well for Jacques, and even better than he +could have expected. Nothing remained now to be done, except to +prevent the countess from going back and escaping, as soon as she +should have recognized Jacques. Fortunately the parlor-door opened +into the room. He went and put himself behind the open half, and +waited there. + +For twenty-four hours he had prepared himself for this interview, and +arranged in his head the very words he would use. But now, at the last +moment, all his ideas flew away, like dry leaves under the breath of a +tempest. His heart was beating with such violence, that he thought it +filled the whole room with the noise. He imagined he was cool, and, in +fact, he possessed that lucidity which gives to certain acts of madmen +an appearance of sense. + +He was surprised at being kept waiting so long, when, at last, light +steps, and the rustling of a dress, warned him that the countess was +coming. + +She came in, dressed in a long, dark, undress robe, and took a few +steps into the room, astonished at not seeing the person who was +waiting for her. + +It was exactly as Jacques had foreseen. + +He pushed to, violently, the open half of the door; and, placing +himself before her, he said,-- + +"We are alone!" + +She turned round at the noise, and cried,-- + +"Jacques!" + +And terrified, as if she had seen a ghost, she looked all around, +hoping to see a way out. One of the tall windows of the room, which +went down to the ground, was half open, and she rushed towards it; but +Jacques anticipated her, and said,-- + +"Do not attempt to escape; for I swear I should pursue you into your +husband's room, to the foot of his bed." + +She looked at him as if she did not comprehend. + +"You," she stammered,--"you here!" + +"Yes," he replied, "I am here. You are astonished, are you? You said +to yourself, 'He is in prison, well kept under lock and key: I can +sleep in peace. No evidence can be found. He will not speak. I have +committed the crime, and he will be punished for it. I am guilty; but +I shall escape. He is innocent, and he is lost.' You thought it was +all settled? Well, no, it is not. I am here!" + +An expression of unspeakable horror contracted the beautiful features +of the countess. She said,-- + +"This is monstrous!" + +"Monstrous indeed!" + +"Murderer! Incendiary!" + +He burst out laughing, a strident, convulsive, terrible laughter. + +"And you," he said, "you call me so?" + +By one great effort the Countess Claudieuse recovered her energy. + +"Yes," she replied, "yes, I do! You cannot deny your crime to me. I +know, I know the motives which the judges do not even guess. You +thought I would carry out my threats, and you were frightened. When I +left you in such haste, you said to yourself, 'It is all over: she +will tell her husband.' And then you kindled that fire in order to +draw my husband out of the house, you incendiary! And then you fired +at my husband, you murderer!" + +He was still laughing. + +"And that is your plan?" he broke in. "Who do you think will believe +such an absurd story? Our letters were burnt; and, if you deny having +been my mistress, I can just as well deny having been your lover. And, +besides, would the exposure do me any harm? You know very well it +would not. You are perfectly aware, that, as society is with us, the +same thing which disgraces a woman rather raises a man in the estimate +of the world. And as to my being afraid of Count Claudieuse, it is +well known that I am afraid of nobody. At the time when we were +concealing our love in the house in Vine Street, yes, at that time, I +might have been afraid of your husband; for he might have surprised us +there, the code in one hand, a revolver in the other, and have availed +himself of that stupid and savage law which makes the husband the +judge of his own case, and the executor of the sentence which he +himself pronounces. But setting aside such a case, the case of being +taken in the act, which allows a man to kill like a dog another man, +who can not or will not defend himself, what did I care for Count +Claudieuse? What did I care for your threats or for his hatred?" He +said these words with perfect calmness, but with that cold, cutting +tone which is as sharp as a sword, and with that positiveness which +enters irresistibly into the mind. The countess was tottering, and +stammered almost inaudibly,-- + +"Who would imagine such a thing? Is it possible? + +Then, suddenly raising her head, she said,-- + +"But I am losing my senses. If you are innocent, who, then, could be +the guilty man?" + +Jacques seized her hands almost madly, and pressing them painfully, +and bending over her so closely that she felt his hot breath like a +flame touching her face, he hissed into her ear,-- + +"You, wretched creature, you!" + +And then pushing her from him with such violence that she fell into a +chair, he continued,-- + +"You, who wanted to be a widow in order to prevent me from breaking +the chains in which you held me. At our last meeting, when I thought +you were crushed by grief, and felt overcome by your hypocritical +tears, I was weak enough, I was stupid enough, to say that I married +Dionysia only because you were not free. Then you cried, 'O God, how +happy I am that that idea did not occur to me before!' What idea was +that, Genevieve? Come, answer me and confess, that it occurred to you +too soon after all, since you have carried it out?" + +And repeating with crushing irony the words just uttered by the +countess, he said,-- + +"If you are innocent, who, then, would be the guilty man?" + +Quite beside herself, she sprang up from her chair, and casting at +Jacques one of those glances which seem to enter through our eyes into +the very heart of our hearts, she asked,-- + +"Is it really possible that you have not committed this abominable +crime?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"But then," she repeated, almost panting, "is it true, can it really +be true, that you think I have committed it?" + +"Perhaps you have only ordered it to be committed." + +With a wild gesture she raised her arms to heaven, and cried in a +heart-rending voice,-- + +"O God, O God! He believes it! he really believes it!" + +There followed great silence, dismal, formidable silence, such as in +nature follows the crash of the thunderbolt. + +Standing face to face, Jacques and the Countess Claudieuse looked at +each other madly, feeling that the fatal hour in their lives had come +at last. + +Each felt a growing, a sure conviction of the other. There was no need +of explanations. They had been misled by appearances: they +acknowledged it; they were sure of it. + +And this discovery was so fearful, so overwhelming, that neither +thought of who the real guilty one might be. + +"What is to be done?" asked the countess. + +"The truth must be told," replied Jacques. + +"Which?" + +"That I have been your lover; that I went to Valpinson by appointment +with you; that the cartridge-case which was found there was used by me +to get fire; that my blackened hands were soiled by the half-burnt +fragment of our letters, which I had tried to scatter." + +"Never!" cried the countess. + +Jacques's face turned crimson, as he said with an accent of merciless +severity,-- + +"It shall be told! I will have it so, and it must be done!" + +The countess seemed to be furious. + +"Never!" she cried again, "never!" + +And with convulsive haste she added,-- + +"Do you not see that the truth cannot possibly be told. They would +never believe in our innocence. They would only look upon us as +accomplices." + +"Never mind. I am not willing to die." + +"Say that you will not die alone." + +"Be it so." + +"To confess every thing would never save you, but would most assuredly +ruin me. Is that what you want? Would your fate appear less cruel to +you, if there were two victims instead of one?" + +He stopped her by a threatening gesture, and cried,-- + +"Are you always the same? I am sinking, I am drowning; and she +calculates, she bargains! And she said she loved me!" + +"Jacques!" broke in the countess. + +And drawing close up to him, she said,-- + +"Ah! I calculate, I bargain? Well, listen. Yes, it is true. I did +value my reputation as an honest woman more highly, a thousand times +more, than my life; but, above my life and my reputation, I valued +you. You are drowning, you say. Well, then, let us flee. One word from +you, and I leave all,--honor, country, family, husband, children. Say +one word, and I follow you without turning my head, without a regret, +without a remorse." + +Her whole body was shivering from head to foot; her bosom rose and +fell; her eyes shone with unbearable brilliancy. + +Thanks to the violence of her action, her dress, put on in great +haste, had opened, and her dishevelled hair flowed in golden masses +over her bosom and her shoulders, which matched the purest marble in +their dazzling whiteness. + +And in a voice trembling with pent-up passion, now sweet and soft like +a tender caress, and now deep and sonorous like a bell, she went on,-- + +"What keeps us? Since you have escaped from prison, the greatest +difficulty is overcome. I thought at first of taking our girl, your +girl, Jacques; but she is very ill; and besides a child might betray +us. If we go alone, they will never overtake us. We will have money +enough, I am sure, Jacques. We will flee to those distant countries +which appear in books of travels in such fairy-like beauty. There, +unknown, forgotten, unnoticed, our life will be one unbroken +enjoyment. You will never again say that I bargain. I will be yours, +entirely, and solely yours, body and soul, your wife, your slave." + +She threw her head back, and with half-closed eyes, bending with her +whole person toward him, she said in melting tones,-- + +"Say, Jacques, will you? Jacques!" + +He pushed her aside with a fierce gesture. It seemed to him almost a +sacrilege that she also, like Dionysia, should propose to him to flee. + +"Rather the galleys!" he cried. + +She turned deadly pale; a spasm of rage convulsed her features; and +drawing back, stiff and stern, she said,-- + +"What else do you want?" + +"Your help to save me," he replied. + +"At the risk of ruining myself?" + +He made no reply. + +Then she, who had just now been all humility, raised herself to her +full height, and in a tone of bitterest sarcasm said slowly,-- + +"In other words, you want me to sacrifice myself, and at the same time +all my family. For your sake? Yes, but even more for Miss Chandore's +sake. And you think that it is quite a simple thing. I am the past to +you, satiety, disgust: she is the future to you, desire, happiness. +And you think it quite natural that the old love should make a +footstool of her love and her honor for the new love? You think little +of my being disgraced, provided she be honored; of my weeping +bitterly, if she but smile? Well, no, no! it is madness in you to come +and ask me to save you, so that you may throw yourself into the arms +of another. It is madness, when in order to tear you from Dionysia, I +am ready to ruin myself, provided only that you be lost to her +forever." + +"Wretch!" cried Jacques. + +She looked at him with a mocking air, and her eyes beamed with +infernal audacity. + +"You do not know me yet," she cried. "Go, speak, denounce me! M. +Folgat no doubt has told you how I can deny and defend myself." + +Maddened by indignation, and excited to a point where reason loses its +power over us, Jacques de Boiscoran moved with uplifted hand towards +the countess, when suddenly a voice said,-- + +"Do not strike that woman!" + +Jacques and the countess turned round, and uttered, both at the same +instant, the same kind of sharp, terrible cry, which must have been +heard a great distance. + +In the frame of the door stood Count Claudieuse, a revolver in his +hand, and ready to fire. + +He looked as pale as a ghost; and the white flannel dressing-gown +which he had hastily thrown around him hung like a pall around his +lean limbs. The first cry uttered by the countess had been heard by +him on the bed on which he lay apparently dying. A terrible +presentiment had seized him. He had risen from his bed, and, dragging +himself slowly along, holding painfully to the balusters, he had come +down. + +"I have heard all," he said, casting crushing looks at both the guilty +ones. + +The countess uttered a deep, hoarse sigh, and sank into a chair. But +Jacques drew himself up, and said,-- + +"I have insulted you terribly, sir. Avenge yourself." + +The count shrugged his shoulders. + +"Great God! You would allow me to be condemned for a crime which I +have not committed. Ah, that would be the meanest cowardice." + +The count was so feeble that he had to lean against the door-post. + +"Would it be cowardly?" he asked. "Then, what do you call the act of +that miserable man who meanly, disgracefully robs another man of his +wife, and palms off his own children upon him? It is true you are +neither an incendiary nor an assassin. But what is fire in my house in +comparison with the ruin of all my faith? What are the wounds in my +body in comparison with that wound in my heart, which never can heal? +I leave you to the court, sir." + +Jacques was terrified; he saw the abyss opening before him that was to +swallow him up. + +"Rather death," he cried,--"death." + +And, baring his breast, he said,-- + +"But why do you not fire, sir? Why do you not fire? Are you afraid of +blood? Shoot! I have been the lover of your wife: your youngest +daughter is my child." + +The count lowered his weapon. + +"The courts of justice are more certain," he said. "You have robbed me +of my honor: now I want yours. And, if you cannot be condemned without +it, I shall say, I shall swear, that I recognized you. You shall go to +the galleys, M. de Boiscoran." + +He was on the point of coming forward; but his strength was exhausted, +and he fell forward, face downward, and arms outstretched. + +Overcome with horror, half mad, Jacques fled. + + + + XXIX. + +M. Folgat had just risen. Standing before his mirror, hung up to one +of the windows in his room, he had just finished shaving himself, when +the door was thrown open violently, and old Anthony appeared quite +beside himself. + +"Ah, sir, what a terrible thing!" + +"What?" + +"Run away, disappeared!" + +"Who?" + +"Master Jacques!" + +The surprise was so great, that M. Folgat nearly let his razor drop: +he said, however, peremptorily,-- + +"That is false!" + +"Alas, sir," replied the old servant, "everybody is full of it in +town. All the details are known. I have just seen a man who says he +met master last night, about eleven o'clock, running like a madman +down National Street." + +"That is absurd." + +"I have only told Miss Dionysia so far, and she sent me to you. You +ought to go and make inquiry." + +The advice was not needed. Wiping his face hastily, the young advocate +went to dress at once. He was ready in a moment; and, having run down +the stairs, he was crossing the passage when he heard somebody call +his name. He turned round, and saw Dionysia making him a sign to come +into the boudoir in which she was usually sitting. He did so. + +Dionysia and the young advocate alone knew what a desperate venture +Jacques had undertaken the night before. They had not said a word +about it to each other; but each had noticed the preoccupation of the +other. All the evening M. Folgat had not spoken ten words, and +Dionysia had, immediately after dinner, gone up to her own room. + +"Well?" she asked. + +"The report, madam, must be false," replied the advocate. + +"Who knows?" + +"His evasion would be a confession of his crime. It is only the guilty +who try to escape; and M. de Boiscoran is innocent. You can rest quite +assured, madam, it is not so. I pray you be quiet." + +Who would not have pitied the poor girl at that moment? She was as +white as her collar, and trembled violently. Big tears ran over her +eyes; and at each word a violent sob rose in her throat. + +"You know where Jacques went last night?" she asked again. + +"Yes." + +She turned her head a little aside, and went on, in a hardly audible +voice,-- + +"He went to see once more a person whose influence over him is, +probably, all powerful. It may be that she has upset him, stunned him. +Might she not have prevailed upon him to escape from the disgrace of +appearing in court, charged with such a crime?" + +"No, madam, no!" + +"This person has always been Jacques's evil genius. She loves him, I +am sure. She must have been incensed at the idea of his becoming my +husband. Perhaps, in order to induce him to flee, she has fled with +him." + +"Ah! do not be afraid, madam: the Countess Claudieuse is incapable of +such devotion." + +Dionysia threw herself back in utter amazement; and, raising her wide- +open eyes to the young advocate, she said with an air of +stupefaction,-- + +"The Countess Claudieuse?" + +M. Folgat saw his indiscretion. He had been under the impression that +Jacques had told his betrothed every thing; and her very manner of +speaking had confirmed him in his conviction. + +"Ah, it is the Countess Claudieuse," she went on,--"that lady whom all +revere as if she were a saint. And I, who only the other day marvelled +at her fervor in praying,--I who pitied her with all my heart,--I--Ah! +I now see what they were hiding from me." + +Distressed by the blunder which he had committed, the young advocate +said,-- + +"I shall never forgive myself, madam, for having mentioned that name +in your presence." + +She smiled sadly. + +"Perhaps you have rendered me a great service, sir. But, I pray, go +and see what the truth is about this report." + +M. Folgat had not walked down half the street, when he became aware +that something extraordinary must really have happened. The whole town +was in uproar. People stood at their doors, talking. Groups here and +there were engaged in lively discussions. + +Hastening his steps, he was just turning into National Street, when he +was stopped by three or four gentlemen, whose acquaintance he had, in +some way or other, been forced to make since he was at Sauveterre. + +"Well, sir?" said one of these amiable friends, "your client, it +seems, is running about nicely." + +"I do not understand," replied M. Folgat in a tone of ice. + +"Why? Don't you know your client has run off?" + +"Are you quite sure of that?" + +"Certainly. The wife of a workman whom I employ was the person through +whom the escape became known. She had gone on the old ramparts to cut +grass there for her goat; and, when she came to the prison wall, she +saw a big hole had been made there. She gave at once the alarm; the +guard came up; and they reported the matter immediately to the +commonwealth attorney." + +For M. Folgat the evidence was not satisfactory yet. He asked,-- + +"Well? And M. de Boiscoran?" + +"Cannot be found. Ah, I tell you, it is just as I say. I know it from +a friend who heard it from a clerk at the mayor's office. Blangin the +jailer, they say, is seriously implicated." + +"I hope soon to see you again," said the young advocate, and left him +abruptly. + +The gentleman seemed to be very grievously offended at such treatment; +but the young advocate paid no attention to him, and rapidly crossed +the New-Market Square. + +He was become apprehensive. He did not fear an evasion, but thought +there might have occurred some fearful catastrophe. A hundred persons, +at least, were assembled around the prison-doors, standing there with +open mouths and eager eyes; and the sentinels had much trouble in +keeping them back. + +M. Folgat made his way through the crowd, and went in. + +In the court-yard he found the commonwealth attorney, the chief of +police, the captain of the gendarmes, M. Seneschal, and, finally, M. +Galpin, all standing before the janitor's lodge in animated +discussion. The magistrate looked paler than ever, and was, as they +called it in Sauveterre, in bull-dog humor. There was reason for it. + +He had been informed as promptly as M. Folgat, and had, with equal +promptness, dressed, and hastened to the prison. And all along his +way, unmistakable evidence had proved to him that public opinion was +fiercely roused against the accused, but that it was as deeply excited +against himself. + +On all sides he had been greeted by ironical salutations, mocking +smiles, and even expressions of condolence at the loss of his +prisoner. Two men, whom he suspected of being in close relations with +Dr. Seignebos, had even murmured, as he passed by them,-- + +"Cheated, Mr. Bloodhound." + +He was the first to notice the young advocate, and at once said to +him,-- + +"Well, sir, do you come for news?" + +But M. Folgat was not the man to be taken in twice the same day. +Concealing his apprehensions under the most punctilious politeness, he +replied,-- + +"I have heard all kinds of reports; but they do not affect me. M. de +Boiscoran has too much confidence in the excellency of his cause and +the justice of his country to think of escaping. I only came to confer +with him." + +"And you are right!" exclaimed M. Daubigeon. "M. de Boiscoran is in +his cell, utterly unaware of all the rumors that are afloat. It was +Trumence who has run off,--Trumence, the light-footed. He was kept in +prison for form's sake only, and helped the keeper as a kind of +assistant jailer. He it is who has made a hole in the wall, and +escaped, thinking, no doubt, that the heavens are a better roof than +the finest jail." + +A little distance behind the group stood Blangin, the jailer, +affecting a contrite and distressed air. + +"Take the counsel to the prisoner Boiscoran," said M. Galpin dryly, +fearing, perhaps, that M. Daubigeon might regale the public with all +the bitter epigrams with which he persecuted him privately. The jailer +bowed to the ground, and obeyed the order; but, as soon as he was +alone with M. Folgat in the porch of the building, he blew up his +cheek, and then tapped it, saying,-- + +"Cheated all around," + +Then he burst out laughing. The young advocate pretended not to +understand him. It was but prudent that he should appear ignorant of +what had happened the night before, and thus avoid all suspicion of a +complicity which substantially did not exist. + +"And still," Blangin went on, "this is not the end of it yet. The +gendarmes are all out. If they should catch my poor Trumence! That man +is such a fool, the most stupid judge would worm his secret out of him +in five minutes. And then, who would be in a bad box?" + +M. Folgat still made no reply; but the other did not seem to mind that +much. He continued,-- + +"I only want to do one thing, and that is to give up my keys as soon +as possible. I am tired of this profession of jailer. Besides, I shall +not be able to stay here much longer. This escape has put a flea into +the ear of the authorities, and they are going to give me an +assistant, a former police sergeant, who is as bad as a watchdog. Ah! +the good days of M. de Boiscoran are over: no more stolen visits, no +more promenades. He is to be watched day and night." + +Blangin had stopped at the foot of the staircase to give all these +explanations. + +"Let us go up," he said now, as M. Folgat showed signs of growing +impatience. + +He found Jacques lying on his bed, all dressed; and at the first +glance he saw that a great misfortune had happened. + +"One more hope gone?" he asked. + +The prisoner raised himself up with difficulty, and sat up on the side +of his bed; then he replied in a voice of utter despair,-- + +"I am lost, and this time hopelessly." + +"Oh!" + +"Just listen!" + +The young advocate could not help shuddering as he heard the account +given by Jacques of what had happened the night before. And when it +was finished, he said,-- + +"You are right. If Count Claudieuse carries out his threat, it may be +a condemnation." + +"It must be a condemnation, you mean. Well, you need not doubt. He +will carry out his threat." + +And shaking his head with an air of desolation, he added,-- + +"And the most formidable part of it is this: I cannot blame him for +doing it. The jealousy of husbands is often nothing more than self- +love. When they find they have been deceived, their vanity is +offended; but their heart remains whole. But in this case it is very +different. He not only loved his wife, he worshipped her. She was his +happiness, life itself. When I took her from him, I robbed him of all +he had,--yes, of all! I never knew what adultery meant till I saw him +overcome with shame and rage. He was left without any thing in a +moment. His wife had a lover: his favorite daughter was not his own! I +suffer terribly; but it is nothing, I am sure, in comparison with what +he suffers. And you expect, that, holding a weapon in his hand, he +should not use it? It is a treacherous, dishonest weapon, to be sure; +but have I been frank and honest? It would be a mean, ignoble +vengeance, you will say; but what was the offence? In his place, I +dare say, I should do as he does." + +M. Folgat was thunderstruck. + +"But after that," he asked, "when you left the house?" + +Jacques passed his hand mechanically over his forehead, as if to +gather his thoughts, and then went on,-- + +"After that I fled precipitately, like a man who has committed a +crime. The garden-door was open, and I rushed out. I could not tell +you with certainty in what direction I ran, through what streets I +passed. I had but one fixed idea,--to get away from that house as +quickly and as far as possible. I did not know what I was doing. I +went, I went. When I came to myself, I was many miles away from +Sauveterre, on the road to Boiscoran. The instinct of the animal +within me had guided me on the familiar way to my house. At the first +moment I could not comprehend how I had gotten there. I felt like a +drunkard whose head is filled with the vapors of alcohol, and who, +when he is roused, tries to remember what has happened during his +intoxication. Alas! I recalled the fearful reality but too soon. I +knew that I ought to go back to prison, that it was an absolute +necessity; and yet I felt at times so weary, so exhausted, that I was +afraid I should not be able to get back. Still I did reach the prison. +Blangin was waiting for me, all anxiety; for it was nearly two +o'clock. He helped me to get up here. I threw myself, all dressed as I +was, on my bed, and I fell fast asleep in an instant. But my sleep was +a miserable sleep, broken by terrible dreams, in which I saw myself +chained to the galleys, or mounting the scaffold with a priest by my +side; and even at this moment I hardly know whether I am awake or +asleep, and whether I am not still suffering under a fearful +nightmare." + +M. Folgat could hardly conceal a tear. He murmured,-- + +"Poor man!" + +"Oh, yes, poor man indeed!" repeated Jacques. "Why did I not follow my +first inspiration last night when I found myself on the high-road. I +should have gone on to Boiscoran, I should have gone up stairs to my +room, and there I should have blown out my brains. I should then +suffer no more." + +Was he once more giving himself up to that fatal idea of suicide? + +"And your parents," said M. Folgat. + +"My parents! And do you think they will survive my condemnation?" + +"And Miss Chandore?" + +He shuddered, and said fiercely,-- + +"Ah! it is for her sake first of all that I ought to make an end of +it. Poor Dionysia! Certainly she would grieve terribly when she heard +of my suicide. But she is not twenty yet. My memory would soon fade in +her heart; and weeks growing into months, and months into years, she +would find comfort. To live means to forget." + +"No! You cannot really think what you are saying!" broke in M. Folgat. +"You know very well that she--she would never forget you!" + +A tear appeared in the eyes of the unfortunate man, and he said in a +half-smothered voice,-- + +"You are right. I believe to strike me down means to strike her down +also. But do you think what life would be after a condemnation? Can +you imagine what her sensations would be, if day after day she had to +say to herself, 'He whom alone I love upon earth is at the galleys, +mixed up with the lowest of criminals, disgraced for life, +dishonored.' Ah! death is a thousand times preferable." + +"Jacques, M. de Boiscoran, do you forget that you have given me your +word of honor?" + +"The proof that I have not forgotten it is that you see me here. But, +never mind, the day is not very far off when you will see me so +wretched that you yourself will be the first to put a weapon into my +hands." + +But the young advocate was one of those men whom difficulties only +excite and stimulate, instead of discouraging. He had already +recovered somewhat from the first great shock, and he said,-- + +"Before you throw down your hand, wait, at least, till the game is +lost. You are not sentenced yet. Far from it! You are innocent, and +there is divine justice. Who tells us that Count Claudieuse will +really give evidence? We do not even know whether he has not, at this +moment, drawn his last breath upon earth!" + +Jacques leaped up as if in a spasm, and turning deadly pale, +exclaimed,-- + +"Ah, don't say that! That fatal thought has already occurred to me, +that perhaps he did not rise again last night. Would to God that that +be not so! for then I should but too surely be an assassin. He was my +first thought when I awoke. I thought of sending out to make +inquiries. But I did not dare do it." + +M. Folgat felt his heart oppressed with most painful anxiety, like the +prisoner himself. Hence he said at once,-- + +"We cannot remain in this uncertainty. We can do nothing as long as +the count's fate is unknown to us; for on his fate depends ours. Allow +me to leave you now. I will let you know as soon as I hear any thing +positive. And, above all, keep up your courage, whatever may happen." + +The young advocate was sure of finding reliable information at Dr. +Seignebos's house. He hastened there; and, as soon as he entered, the +physician cried,-- + +"Ah, there you are coming at last! I give up twenty of my worst +patients to see you, and you keep me waiting forever. I was sure you +would come. What happened last night at Count Claudieuse's house?" + +"Then you know"-- + +"I know nothing. I have seen the results; but I do not know the cause. +The result was this: last night, about eleven o'clock, I had just gone +to bed, tired to death, when, all of a sudden, somebody rings my bell +as if he were determined to break it. I do not like people to perform +so violently at my door; and I was getting up to let the man know my +mind, when Count Claudieuse's servant rushed in, pushing my own +servant unceremoniously aside, and cried out to me to come instantly, +as his master had just died." + +"Great God!" + +"That is what I said, because, although I knew the count was very ill, +I did not think he was so near death." + +"Then, he is really dead?" + +"Not at all. But, if you interrupt me continually, I shall never be +able to tell you." + +And taking off his spectacles, wiping them, and putting them on again, +he went on,-- + +"I was dressed in an instant, and in a few minutes I was at the house. +They asked me to go into the sitting-room down stairs. There I found, +to my great amazement, Count Claudieuse, lying on a sofa. He was pale +and stiff, his features fearfully distorted, and on his forehead a +slight wound, from which a slender thread of blood was trickling down. +Upon my word I thought it was all over." + +"And the countess?" + +"The countess was kneeling by her husband; and, with the help of her +women, she was trying to resuscitate him by rubbing him, and putting +hot napkins on his chest. But for these wise precautions she would be +a widow at this moment; whilst, as it is, he may live a long time yet. +This precious count has a wonderful tenacity of life. We, four of us, +then took him and carried him up stairs, and put him to bed, after +having carefully warmed it first. He soon began to move; he opened his +eyes; and a quarter of an hour later he had recovered his +consciousness, and spoke readily, though with a somewhat feeble voice. +Then, of course, I asked what had happened, and for the first time in +my life I saw the marvellous self-possession of the countess forsake +her. She stammered pitifully, looking at her husband with a most +frightened air, as if she wished to read in his eyes what she should +say. He undertook to answer me; but he, also was evidently very much +embarrassed. He said, that being left alone, and feeling better than +usual, he had taken it into his head to try his strength. He had +risen, put on his dressing-gown, and gone down stairs; but, in the act +of entering the room, he had become dizzy, and had fallen so +unfortunately as to hurt his forehead against the sharp corner of a +table. I affected to believe it, and said, 'You have done a very +imprudent thing, and you must not do it again.' Then he looked at his +wife in a very singular way, and replied, 'Oh! you can be sure I shall +not commit another imprudence. I want too much to get well. I have +never wished it so much as now.' " + +M. Folgat was on the point of replying; but the doctor closed his lips +with his hand, and said,-- + +"Wait, I have not done yet." + +And, manipulating his spectacles most assiduously, he added,-- + +"I was just going home, when suddenly a chambermaid came in with a +frightened air to tell the countess that her older daughter, little +Martha, whom you know, had just been seized with terrible convulsions. +Of course I went to see her, and found her suffering from a truly +fearful nervous attack. It was only with great difficulty I could +quiet her; and when I thought she had recovered, suspecting that there +might be some connection between her attack and the accident that had +befallen her father, I said in the most paternal tone I could assume, +'Now my child, you must tell me what was the matter.' She hesitated a +while, and then she said, 'I was frightened.'--'Frightened at what, my +darling?' She raised herself on her bed, trying to consult her +mother's eyes; but I had placed myself between them, so that she could +not see them. When I repeated my question, she said, 'Well, you see, I +had just gone to bed, when I heard the bell ring. I got up, and went +to the window to see who could be coming so late. I saw the servant go +and open the door, a candlestick in her hand, and come back to the +house, followed by a gentleman, whom I did not know.' The countess +interrupted her here, saying, 'It was a messenger from the court, who +had been sent to me with an urgent letter.' But I pretended not to +hear her; and, turning still to Martha, I asked again, 'And it was +this gentleman who frightened you so?'--'Oh, no!'--'What then?' Out of +the corner of my eye I was watching the countess. She seemed to be +terribly embarrassed. Still she did not dare to stop her daughter. +'Well, doctor,' said the little girl, 'no sooner had the gentleman +gone into the house than I saw one of the statues under the trees +there come down from its pedestal, move on, and glide very quietly +along the avenue of lime-trees.' " + +M. Folgat trembled. + +"Do you remember, doctor," he said, "the day we were questioning +little Martha, she said she was terribly frightened by the statutes in +the garden?" + +"Yes, indeed!" replied the doctor. "But wait a while. The countess +promptly interrupted her daughter, saying to me, 'But, dear doctor, +you ought to forbid the child to have such notions in her head. At +Valpinson she never was afraid, and even at night, quite alone, and +without a light, all over the house. But here she is frightened at +every thing; and, as soon as night comes, she fancies the garden is +full of ghosts. You are too big now, Martha, to think that statues, +which are made of stone, can come to life, and walk about.' The child +was shuddering. + +" 'The other times, mamma,' she said, 'I was not quite sure; but this +time I am sure. I wanted to go away from the window, and I could not +do it. It was too strong for me: so that I saw it all, saw it +perfectly. I saw the statue, the ghost, come up the avenue slowly and +cautiously, and then place itself behind the last tree, the one that +is nearest to the parlor window. Then I heard a loud cry, then nothing +more. The ghost remained all the time behind the tree, and I saw all +it did: it turned to the left and the right; it drew itself up; and it +crouched down. Then, all of a sudden, two terrible cries; but, O +mamma, such cries! Then the ghost raised one arm, this way, and all of +a sudden it was gone; but almost the same moment another one came out, +and then disappeared, too.' " + +M. Folgat was utterly overcome with amazement. + +"Oh, these ghosts!" he said. + +"You suspect them, do you? I suspected them at once. Still I pretended +to turn Martha's whole story into a joke, and tried to explain to her +how the darkness made us liable to have all kinds of optical +illusions; so that when I left, and a servant was sent with a candle +to light me on my way, the countess was quite sure that I had no +suspicion. I had none; but I had more than that. As soon as I entered +the garden, therefore, I dropped a piece of money which I had kept in +my hand for the purpose. Of course I set to work looking for it at the +foot of the tree nearest to the parlor-window, while the servant +helped with his candle. Well, M. Folgat, I can assure you that it was +not a ghost that had been walking about under the trees; and, if the +footmarks which I found there were made by a statue, that statue must +have enormous feet, and wear huge iron-shod shoes." + +The young advocate was prepared for this. He said,-- + +"There is no doubt: the scene had a witness." + + + + XXX. + +"What scene? What witness? That is what I wanted to hear from you, and +why I was waiting so impatiently for you," said Dr. Seignebos to M. +Folgat. "I have seen and stated the results: now it is for you to give +me the cause." + +Nevertheless, he did not seem to be in the least surprised by what the +young advocate told him of Jacques's desperate enterprise, and of the +tragic result. As soon as he had heard it all, he exclaimed,-- + +"I thought so: yes, upon my word! By racking my brains all night long, +I had very nearly guessed the whole story. And who, in Jacques's +place, would not have been desirous to make one last effort? But +certainly fate is against him." + +"Who knows?" said M. Folgat. And, without giving the doctor time to +reply, he went on,-- + +"In what are our chances worse than they were before? In no way. We +can to-day, just as well as we could yesterday, lay our hands upon +those proofs which we know do exist, and which would save us. Who +tells us that at this moment Sir Francis Burnett and Suky Wood may not +have been found? Is your confidence in Goudar shaken?" + +"Oh, as to that, not at all! I saw him this morning at the hospital, +when I paid my usual visit; and he found an opportunity to tell me +that he was almost certain of success." + +"Well?" + +"I am persuaded Cocoleu will speak. But will he speak in time? That is +the question. Ah, if we had but a month's time, I should say Jacques +is safe. But our hours are counted, you know. The court will be held +next week. I am told the presiding judge has already arrived, and M. +Gransiere has engaged rooms at the hotel. What do you mean to do if +nothing new occurs in the meantime?" + +"M. Magloire and I will obstinately adhere to our plan of defence." + +"And if Count Claudieuse keeps his promise, and declares that he +recognized Jacques in the act of firing at him?" + +"We shall say he is mistaken." + +"And Jacques will be condemned." + +"Well," said the young advocate. + +And lowering his voice, as if he did not wish to be overheard, he +added,-- + +"Only the sentence will not be a fatal sentence. Ah, do not interrupt +me, doctor, and upon your life, upon Jacques's life, do not say a word +of what I am going to tell you. A suspicion which should cross M. +Galpin's mind would destroy my last hope; for it would give him an +opportunity of correcting a blunder which he has committed, and which +justifies me in saying to you, 'Even if the count should give +evidence, even if sentence should be passed, nothing would be lost +yet.' " + +He had become animated; and his accent and his gestures made you feel +that he was sure of himself. + +"No," he repeated, "nothing would be lost; and then we should have +time before us, while waiting for a second trial, to hunt up our +witnesses, and to force Cocoleu to tell the truth. Let the count say +what he chooses, I like it all the better: I shall thus be relieved of +my last scruples. It seemed to me odious to betray the countess, +because I thought the most cruelly punished would be the count. But, +if the count attacks us, we are on the defence; and public opinion +will be on our side. More than that, they will admire us for having +sacrificed our honor to a woman's honor, and for having allowed +ourselves to be condemned rather than to give up the name of her who +has given herself to us." + +The physician did not seem to be convinced; but the young advocate +paid no attention. He went on,-- + +"No, our success in a second trial would be almost certain. The scene +in Mautrec Street has been seen by a witness: his iron-shod shoes have +left, as you say, their marks under the linden-trees nearest to the +parlor-window, and little Martha has watched his movements. Who can +this witness be unless it is Trumence? Well, we shall lay hands upon +him. He was standing so that he could see every thing, and hear every +word. He will tell what he saw and what he heard. He will tell how +Count Claudieuse called out to M. de Boiscoran, 'No, I do not want to +kill you! I have a surer vengeance than that: you shall go to the +galleys.' " + +Dr. Seignebos sadly shook his head as he said,-- + +"I hope your expectations may be realized, my dear sir." + +But they came again for the doctor the third time to-day. Shaking +hands with the young advocate, he parted with his young friend, who +after a short visit to M. Magloire, whom he thought it his duty to +keep well informed of all that was going on, hastened to the house of +M. de Chandore. As soon as he looked into Dionysia's face, he knew +that he had nothing to tell her; that she knew all the facts, and how +unjust her suspicions had been. + +"What did I tell you, madam?" he said very modestly. + +She blushed, ashamed at having let him see the secret doubts which had +troubled her so sorely, and, instead of replying, she said,-- + +"There are some letters for you, M. Folgat. They have carried them up +stairs to your room." + +He found two letters,--one from Mrs. Goudar, the other from the agent +who had been sent to England. + +The former was of no importance. Mrs. Goudar only asked him to send a +note, which she enclosed, to her husband. + +The second, on the other hand, was of the very greatest interest. The +agent wrote,-- + + "Not without great difficulties, and especially not without a heavy + outlay of money, I have at length discovered Sir Francis Burnett's + brother in London, the former cashier of the house of Gilmour and + Benson. + + "Our Sir Francis is not dead. He was sent by his father to Madras, + to attend to very important financial matters, and is expected + back by the next mail steamer. We shall be informed of his arrival + on the very day on which he lands. + + "I have had less trouble in discovering Suky Wood's family. They + are people very well off, who keep a sailor's tavern in Folkstone. + They had news from their daughter about three weeks ago; but, + although they profess to be very much attached to her, they could + not tell me accurately where she was just now. All they know is, + that she has gone to Jersey to act as barmaid in a public house. + + "But that is enough for me. The island is not very large; and I + know it quite well, having once before followed a notary public + there, who had run off with the money of his clients. You may + consider Suky as safe. + + "When you receive this letter, I shall be on my way to Jersey. + + "Send me money there to the Golden Apple Hotel, where I propose to + lodge. Life is amazingly dear in London; and I have very little + left of the sum you gave me on parting." + +Thus, in this direction, at least, every thing was going well. + +Quite elated by this first success, M. Folgat put a thousand-franc +note into an envelope, directed it as desired, and sent it at once to +the post-office. Then he asked M. de Chandore to lend him his +carriage, and went out to Boiscoran. + +He wanted to see Michael, the tenant's son, who had been so prompt in +finding Cocoleu, and in bringing him into town. He found him, +fortunately, just coming home, bringing in a cart loaded with straw; +and, taking him aside, he asked him,-- + +"Will you render M. de Boiscoran a great service?" + +"What must I do?" replied the young man in a tone of voice which said, +better than all protestations could have done, that he was ready to do +any thing. + +"Do you know Trumence?" + +"The former basket-weaver of Tremblade?" + +"Exactly." + +"Upon my word, don't I know him? He has stolen apples enough from me, +the scamp! But I don't blame him so much, after all; for he is a good +fellow, in spite of that." + +"He was in prison at Sauveterre." + +"Yes, I know; he had broken down a gate near Brechy and"-- + +"Well, he has escaped." + +"Ah, the scamp!" + +"And we must find him again. They have put the gendarmes on his track; +but will they catch him?" + +Michael burst out laughing. + +"Never in his life!" he said. "Trumence will make his way to Oleron, +where he has friends; the gendarmes will be after him in vain." + +M. Folgat slapped Michael amicably on the shoulder, and said,-- + +"But you, if you choose? Oh! do not look angry at me. We do not want +to have him arrested. All I want you to do is to hand him a letter +from me, and to bring me back his answer." + +"If that is all, then I am your man. Just give me time to change my +clothes, and to let father know, and I am off." + +Thus M. Folgat began, as far as in him lay, to prepare for future +action, trying to counteract all the cunning measures of the +prosecution by such combinations as were suggested to him by his +experience and his genius. + +Did it follow from this, that his faith in ultimate success was strong +enough to make him speak of it to his most reliable friends, even, say +to Dr. Seignebos, to M. Magloire, or to good M. Mechinet? + +No; for, bearing all the responsibility on his own shoulders, he had +carefully weighed the contrary chances of the terrible game in which +he proposed to engage, and in which the stakes were the honor and the +life of a man. He knew, better than anybody else, that a mere nothing +might destroy all his plans, and that Jacques's fate was dependent on +the most trivial accident. + +Like a great general on the eve of a battle, he managed to control his +feelings, affecting, for the benefit of others, a confidence which he +did not really feel, and allowing no feature of his face to betray the +great anxiety which generally kept him awake more than half the night. + +And certainly it required a character of marvellous strength to remain +impassive and resolute under such circumstances. + +Everybody around him was in despair, and gave up all hope. + +The house of M. de Chandore, once so full of life and merriment, had +become as silent and sombre as a tomb. + +The last two months had made of M. de Chandore an old man in good +earnest. His tall figure had begun to stoop, and he looked bent and +broken. He walked with difficulty, and his hands began to tremble. + +The Marquis de Boiscoran had been hit even harder. He, who only a few +weeks before looked robust and hearty, now appeared almost decrepit. +He did not eat, so to say, and did not sleep. He became frightfully +thin. It gave him pain to utter a word. + +As to the marchioness, the very sources of life seemed to have been +sapped within her. She had had to hear M. Magloire say that Jacques's +safety would have been put beyond all doubt if they had succeeded in +obtaining a change of venue, or an adjournment of the trial. And it +was her fault that such a change had not been applied for. That +thought was death to her. She had hardly strength enough left to drag +herself every day as far as the jail to see her son. + +The two Misses Lavarande had to bear all the practical difficulties +arising from this sore trial: they went and came, looking as pale as +ghosts, whispering in a low voice, and walking on tiptoe, as if there +had been a death in the house. + +Dionysia alone showed greater energy as the troubles increased. She +did not indulge in much hope. + +"I know Jacques will be condemned," she said to M. Folgat. But she +said, also, that despair belonged to criminals only, and that the +fatal mistake for which Jacques was likely to suffer ought to inspire +his friends with nothing but indignation and thirst for vengeance. + +And, while her grandfather and the Marquis de Boiscoran went out as +little as possible, she took pains to show herself in town, +astonishing the ladies "in good society" by the way in which she +received their false expressions of sympathy. But it was evident that +she was only held up by a kind of feverish excitement, which gave to +her cheeks their bright color, to her eyes their brilliancy, and to +her voice its clear, silvery ring. Ah! for her sake mainly, M. Folgat +longed to end this uncertainty which is so much more painful than the +greatest misfortune. + +The time was drawing near. + +As Dr. Seignebos had announced, the president of the tribunal, M. +Domini, had already arrived in Sauveterre. + +He was one of those men whose character is an honor to the bench, full +of the dignity of his profession, but not thinking himself infallible, +firm without useless rigor, cold and still kind-hearted, having no +other mistress but Justice, and knowing no other ambition but that of +establishing the truth. + +He had examined Jacques, as he was bound to do; but the examination +had been, as it always is, a mere formality, and had led to no result. + +The next step was the selection of a jury. + +The jurymen had already begun to arrive from all parts of the +department. They lodged at the Hotel de France, where they took their +meals in common in the large back dining-room, which is always +specially reserved for their use. + +In the afternoon one might see them, looking grave and thoughtful, +take a walk on the New-Market Square, or on the old ramparts. + +M. Gransiere, also, had arrived. But he kept strictly in retirement in +his room at the Hotel de la Poste, where M. Galpin every day spent +several hours in close conference with him. + +"It seems," said Mechinet in confidence to M. Folgat,--"it seems they +are preparing an overwhelming charge." + +The day after, Dionysia opened "The Sauveterre Independent," and found +in it an announcement of the cases set down for each day,-- + + MONDAY.--Fraudulent bankruptcy, defalcation, forgery. + TUESDAY.--Murder, theft. + WEDNESDAY.--Infanticide, domestic theft. + THURSDAY.--Incendiarism, and attempted assassination (case of M. + de Boiscoran). + +This was, therefore, the great day on which the good people of +Sauveterre expected to enjoy the most delightful emotions. Hence there +was an immense pressure brought to bear upon all the principal members +of the court to obtain tickets of admission. People who, the night +before, had refused to speak to M. Galpin, would stop him the next day +in the street, and beg him to give them a ticket, not for themselves, +but for "their lady." Finally, the unheard-of fact became known, that +tickets were openly sold for money! One family had actually the +incomprehensible courage to write to the Marquis de Boiscoran for +three tickets, promising, in return, "by their attitude in court" to +contribute to the acquittal of the accused. + +In the midst of all these rumors, the city was suddenly startled by a +list of subscriptions in behalf of the families of the unfortunate +firemen who had perished in the fire at Valpinson. + +Who had started this paper? M. Seneschal tried in vain to discover the +hand that had struck this blow. The secret of this treacherous trick +was well kept. But it was a most atrocious trick to revive thus, on +the eve of the trial, such mournful memories and such bitter hatred. + +"That man Galpin had a hand in it," said Dr. Seignebos, grinding his +teeth. "And to think that he may, after all, be triumphant! Ah, why +did not Goudar commence his experiment a little sooner?" + +For Goudar, while assuring everybody of certain success, asked for +time. To disarm the mistrust of an idiot like Cocoleu was not the work +of a day or a week. He declared, that, if he should be overhasty, he +would most assuredly ruin every thing. + +Otherwise, nothing new occurred. + +Count Claudieuse was getting rather better. + +The agent in Jersey had telegraphed that he was on Suky's track; that +he would certainly catch her, but that he could not say when. + +Michael, finally, had in vain searched the whole district, and been +all over Oleron; no one had been able to give him any news of +Trumence. + +Thus, on the day when the session began, a council was held, in which +all of Jacques's friends took part; and here it was resolved that his +counsel would not mention the name of the Countess Claudieuse, and +would, even if the count should offer to give evidence, adhere to the +plan of defence suggested by M. Folgat. + +Alas! the chances of success seemed hourly to diminish; for the jury, +very much against the usual experience, appeared to be excessively +severe. The bankrupt was sentenced to twenty years' hard labor. The +man accused of murder could not even obtain the plea of "extenuating +circumstances," and was sentenced to death. + +This was on Wednesday. + +It was decided that M. de Chandore and the Marquis and the Marchioness +de Boiscoran should attend the trial. They wanted to spare Dionysia +the terrible excitement; but she declared that, in that case, she +should go alone to the court-house; and thus they were forced to +submit to her will. + +Thanks to an order from M. Domini, M. Folgat and M. Magloire could +spend the evening with Jacques in order to determine all the details, +and to agree upon certain replies to be given. + +Jacques looked excessively pale, but was quite composed. And when his +counsel left him, saying,-- + +"Keep up your courage and hope," he replied,-- + +"Hope I have none; but courage--I assure you, I have courage!" + + + + XXXI. + +At last, in his dark cell, Jacques de Boiscoran saw the day break that +was to decide his fate. + +He was to be tried to-day. + +The occasion was, of course, too good to be neglected by "The +Sauveterre Independent." Although a morning paper, it published, "in +view of the gravity of the circumstances," an evening edition, which a +dozen newsboys cried out in the streets up to mid-night. And this was +what it said,-- + + ASSIZES AT SAUVETERRE. + + THURSDAY, 23. + + Presiding Judge.--M. DOMINI. + + ASSASSINATION! INCENDIARISM! + + [Special Correspondence of the Independent.] + + Whence this unusual commotion, this uproar, this great excitement, + in our peaceful city? Whence these gatherings of our public + squares, these groups in front of all the houses! Whence this + restlessness on all faces, this anxiety in all eyes? + + The reason is, that to-day this terrible Valpinson case will be + brought up in court, after having for so many weeks now agitated + our people. + + To-day this man who is charged with such fearful crimes is to be + tried. + + Hence all steps are eagerly turned towards the court-house: the + people all hurry, and rush in the same direction. + + The court-house! Long before daylight it was surrounded by an + eager multitude, which the constables and the gendarmes could only + with difficulty keep within bounds. + + They press and crowd and push. Coarse words fly to and fro. From + words they pass to gestures, from gestures to blows. A row is + imminent. Women cry, men swear, and two peasants from Brechy are + arrested on the spot. + + It is well known that there will be few only, happy enough to get + in. The great square would not contain all these curious people, + who have gathered here from all parts of the district: how should + the court-room be able to hold them? + + And still our authorities, always anxious to please their + constituents, who have bestowed their confidence upon them, have + resorted to heroic measures. They have had two partition walls + taken down, so that a part of the great hall is added to the + court-room proper. + + M. Lautier, the city architect, who is a good judge in such + matters, assures us that this immense hall will accommodate twelve + hundred persons. + + But what are twelve hundred persons? + + Long before the hour fixed for the opening of the court, every + thing is full to overflowing. A pin might be thrown into the room, + and it could not fall to the ground. + + Not an inch of space is lost. All around, along the wall men are + standing in close ranks. On both sides of the platform, chairs + have been put, which are occupied by a large number of our first + ladies in good society, not only of Sauveterre, however, but also + of the neighborhood and even other cites. Some of them appear in + magnificent toilettes. + + A thousand reports are current, a thousand conjectures are formed, + which we shall take care not to report. Why should we? Let us say, + however, that the accused has not availed himself of his right to + reject a certain number of jurymen. He has accepted all the names + which were drawn by lot, and which the prosecuting attorney did + not object to. + + We obtained this information from an attorney, a friend of ours; + and, just as he had told us all about it, a great noise rose at + the door, which was followed by rapid moving of chairs, and half- + smothered exclamations. + + It was the family of the accused, who had come in, and now + occupied the seats assigned them close by the platform. + + The Marquis de Boiscoran had on his arm Miss Chandore, who wore + with great grace and dignity a dark gray dress, trimmed with + cherry-colored ribbons. M. de Chandore escorted the Marchioness de + Boiscoran. The marquis and the baron looked cold and reserved. The + mother of the accused appears utterly overcome. Miss Chandore, on + the contrary, is lively, does not seem in the least concerned, and + returns with a bright smile the few greetings she receives from + various parts of the court-room. + + But soon they are no longer an object of curiosity. + + The attention of all is now directed towards a large table + standing before the judges, and on which may be seen a number of + articles covered by large red cloth. + + These are the articles to be used in evidence. + + In the meantime it strikes eleven o'clock. The sheriff's officers + move about the room, seeing that every thing is in order. + + Then a small door opens on the left, and the counsel for the + defence enter. + + Our readers know who they are. One is M. Magloire, the ornament of + our bar; the other, an advocate from the capital, M. Folgat, quite + young, but already famous. + + M. Magloire looks as he does on his best days, and smilingly + converses with the mayor of Sauveterre; while M. Folgat opens his + blue bag, and consults his papers. + + Half-past eleven! + + An usher announces,-- + + The court. + + M. Domini takes the chair. M. Gransiere occupies the seat of the + prosecuting attorney. + + Behind them the jurymen sit down, looking grave and solemn. + + Everybody rises, everybody strains his eyes to see, and stands on + tiptoe. Some persons in the back rows even get upon their chairs. + + The president has ordered the prisoner to be brought in. + + He appears. + + He is dressed in black, and with great elegance. It is noticed + that he wears in his buttonhole the ribbon of the Legion of Honor. + + He looks pale; but his eye is clear and open, full of confidence, + yet not defiant. His carriage is proud, though melancholy. + + He has hardly taken his seat when a gentleman passes over three + rows of chairs, and, in spite of the officers of the court, + succeeds in shaking hands with him. It is Dr. Seignebos. + + The president orders the sheriff to proclaim silence; and, after + having reminded the audience that all expressions of approbation + or disapprobation are strictly prohibited, he turns to the + accused, and asks him,-- + + "Tell me your first names, your family name, your age, your + profession, and your domicile." + + The accused replies,-- + + "Louis Trivulce Jacques de Boiscoran, twenty-seven years, land- + owner, residing at Boiscoran, district of Sauveterre." + + "Sit down, and listen to the charges which are brought against + you." + + The clerk, M. Mechinet, thereupon reads the charges, which, in + their terrible simplicity, cause a shudder to pass through the + whole audience. + + We shall not repeat them here, as all the incidents which they + relate are well known to our readers. + + + [Examination of the Accused.] + + PRESIDENT.--Accused, rise and answer clearly. During the + preliminary investigation, you have refused to answer several + questions. Now the matter must be cleared up. And I am bound to + tell you it is to your interest to answer frankly. + + ACCUSED.--No one desires more than I do that the truth be known. I + am ready to answer. + + P.--Why were you so reticent in your first examination? + + A.--I though it important for my interests to answer only in + court. + + P.--You have heard of what crimes you are accused? + + A.--I am innocent. And, first of all, I beg you will allow me to + say one thing. The crime committed at Valpinson is an atrocious, + cowardly crime; but it is at the same time an absurdly stupid + crime, more like the unconscious act of a madman. Now, I have + always been looked upon as not lacking exactly in intelligence. + + P.--That is a discussion. + + A.--Still, Mr. President-- + + P.--Hereafter you shall have full liberty to state your argument. + For the present you must be content to answer the questions which + I shall ask you. + + A.--I submit. + + P.--Were you not soon to be married? + + At this question all eyes are turned towards Miss Chandore, who + blushes till she is as red as a poppy, but does not cast down her + eyes. + + A.--(In a low voice.) Yes. + + P.--Did you not write to your betrothed a few hours before the + crime was committed? + + A.--Yes, sir; and I sent her my letter by the son of one of my + tenants, Michael. + + P.--What did you write to her? + + A.--That important business would prevent me from spending the + evening with her. + + P.--What was that business? + + At the moment when the accused opened his lips to reply, the + president stopped him by a gesture, and said,-- + + P.--Take care! You were asked this question during the preliminary + investigation, and you replied that you had to go to Brechy to see + your wood-merchant. + + A.--I did indeed make that reply on the spur of the moment. It was + not exact. + + P.--Why did you tell a falsehood? + + A.--(After an expression of indignation, which was noticed by + all.) I could not believe that I was in danger. It seemed to me + impossible that I should be reached by an accusation, which + nevertheless, has brought me into this court. Hence I did not deem + it necessary to make my private affairs public. + + P.--But you very soon found out that you were in danger? + + A.--Yes, I did. + + P.--Why did you not tell the truth then? + + A.--Because the magistrate who carried on the investigation had + been too intimate a friend of mine to inspire me with confidence. + + P.--Explain yourself more fully. + + A.--I must ask leave to say no more. I might, in speaking of M. + Galpin, be found to be wanting in moderation. + + A low murmur accompanies this reply made by the accused. + + P.--Such murmurs are improper, and I remind the audience of the + respect due to the court. + + M. Gransiere, the prosecuting attorney, rises,-- + + "We cannot tolerate such recriminations against a magistrate who + has done his duty nobly, and in spite of the pain it caused him. + If the accused had well-founded objections to the magistrate, why + did he not make them known? He cannot plead ignorance: he knows + the law, he is a lawyer himself. His counsel, moreover, are men of + experience." + + M. Magloire replies, in his seat,-- + + "We were of the opinion that the accused ought to ask for a change + of venue. He declined to follow our advice, being confident, as he + said, that his cause was a good one." + + M. Gransiere, resuming his seat,-- + + "The jury will judge of this plea." + + P.--(To the accused.) And now are you ready to tell the truth with + regard to that business which prevented you from spending the + evening with your betrothed? + + A.--Yes, sir. My wedding was to take place at the church in + Brechy, and I had to make my arrangements with the priest about + the ceremony. I had, besides, to fulfil certain religious duties. + The priest at Brechy, who is a friend of mine, will tell you, + that, although no day had been fixed, it had been agreed upon + between us that I should come to confession on one of the evenings + of the week since he insisted upon it. + + The audience, which had been expecting some very exciting + revelations, seemed to be much disappointed; and ironical laughter + was heard in various directions. + + P.--(In a severe tone of voice.) This laughter is indecent and + objectionable. Sheriff, take out the persons who presume to laugh. + And once more I give notice, that, at the first disturbance, I + shall order the room to be cleared. + + Then, turning again to the accused, he said,-- + + P.--Go on! + + A.--I went therefore to the priest at Brechy, that evening: + unluckily there was no one at home at the parsonage when I got + there. I was ringing the third or fourth time in vain, when a + little peasant-girl came by, who told me that she had just met the + priest at the Marshalls' Cross-roads. I thought at once I would go + and meet him, and went in that direction. But I walked more than + four miles without meeting him. I thought the girl must have been + mistaken, and went home again. + + P.--Is that your explanation? + + A.--Yes. + + P.--And you think it a plausible one? + + A.--I have promised to say not what is plausible, but what is + true. I may confess, however, that, precisely because the + explanation is so simple, I did not venture at first to give it. + And yet if no crime had been committed, and I had said the day + after, "Yesterday I went to see the priest at Brechy, and did not + find him," who would have seen any thing unnatural in my + statement? + + P.--And, in order to fulfil so simple a duty, you chose a + roundabout way, which is not only troublesome, but actually + dangerous, right across the swamps? + + A.--I chose the shortest way. + + P.--Then, why were you so frightened upon meeting young Ribot at + the Seille Canal? + + A.--I was not frightened, but simply surprised, as one is apt to + be when suddenly meeting a man where no one is expected. And, if I + was surprised, young Ribot was not less so. + + P.--You see that you hoped to meet no one? + + A.--Pardon me, I did not say so. To expect is not the same as to + hope. + + P.--Why, then did you take such pains to explain your being there? + + A.--I gave no explanations. Young Ribot first told me, laughingly, + where he was going, and then I told him that I was going to + Brechy. + + P.--You told him, also, that you were going through the marshes to + shoot birds, and, at the same time you showed him your gun? + + A.--That may be. But is that any proof against me? I think just + the contrary. If I had had such criminal intentions as the + prosecution suggests, I should certainly have gone back after + meeting people, knowing that I was exposed to great danger. But I + was only going to see my friend, the priest. + + P.--And for such a visit you took your gun? + + A.--My land lies in the woods and marshes, and there was not a day + when I did not bag a rabbit or a waterfowl. Everybody in the + neighborhood will tell you that I never went out without a gun. + + P.--And on your return, why did you go through the forest of + Rochepommier? + + A.--Because, from the place where I was on the road, it was + probably the shortest way to Boiscoran. I say probably, because + just then I did not think much about that. A man who is taking a + walk would be very much embarrassed, in the majority of cases, if + he had to give a precise account why he took one road rather than + another. + + P.--You were seen in the forest by a woodcutter, called Gaudry? + + A.--So I was told by the magistrate. + + P.--That witness deposes that you were in a state of great + excitement. You were tearing leaves from the branches, you were + talking loud. + + A.--I certainly was very much vexed at having lost my evening, and + particularly vexed at having relied on the little peasant-girl. It + is quite likely that I might have exclaimed, as I walked along, + "Plague upon my friend, the priest, who goes and dines in town!" + or some such words. + + There was a smile in the assembly, but not such as to attract the + president's attention. + + P.--You know that the priest of Brechy was dining out that day? + + M. Magloire rose, and said,-- + + "It is through us, sir, that the accused has found out this fact. + When he told us how he had spent the evening, we went to see the + priest at Brechy, who told us how it came about that neither he + nor his old servant was at the parsonage. At our request the + priest has been summoned. We shall also produce another priest, + who at that time passed the Marshalls' Cross-roads, and was the + one whom the little girl had seen." + + Having made a sign to counsel to sit down again, the president + once more turns to the accused. + + P.--The woman Courtois who met you deposes that you looked very + curious. You did not speak to her: you were in great haste to + escape from her. + + A.--The night was much too dark for the woman to see my face. She + asked me to render her a slight service, and I did so. I did not + speak to her, because I had nothing to say to her. I did not leave + her suddenly, but only got ahead of her, because her ass walked + very slowly. + + At a sign from the president, the ushers raise the red cloth which + cover the objects on the table. + + Great curiosity is manifested by the whole audience; and all rise, + and stretch their necks to see better. On the table are displayed + clothes, a pair of velveteen trousers, a shooting-jacket of + maroon-colored velveteen, an old straw hat, and a pair of dun- + colored leather boots. By their side lie a double-barrelled gun, + packages of cartridges, two bowls filled with small-shot, and, + finally, a large china basin, with a dark sediment at the bottom. + + P.--(Showing these objects to the accused.) Are those the clothes + which you wore the evening of the crime? + + A.--Yes, sir. + + P.--A curious costume in which to visit a venerable ecclesiastic, + and to perform religious duties. + + A.--The priest at Brechy was my friend. Our intimacy will explain, + even if it does not justify, the liberty I took. + + P.--Do you also recognize this basin? The water has been allowed + to evaporate, and the residue alone remains there on the bottom. + + A.--It is true, that, when the magistrate appeared at my house, he + found there the basin full of dark water, which was thick with + half-burnt /debris/. He asked me about this water, and I did not + hesitate a moment to tell him that I had washed my hands in it the + evening before, after my return home. + + Is it not evident, that if I had been guilty, my first effort + would have been to put every evidence of my crime out of the way? + And yet this circumstance is looked upon as the strongest evidence + of my guilt, and the prosecution produces it as the most serious + charge against me. + + P.--It is very strong and serious indeed. + + A.--Well, nothing can be more easily explained than that. I am a + great smoker. When I left home the evening of the crime, I took + cigars in abundance; but, when I was about to light one, I found + that I had no matches. + + M. Magloire rises, and says,-- + + "And I wish to point out that this is not one of those explanations + which are invented, after the fact, to meet the necessities of a + doubtful case. We have absolute and overwhelming proof of it. M. + de Boiscoran did not have the little match-box which he usually + carries about him, at that time, because he had left it at M. de + Chandore's house, on the mantelpiece, where I have seen it, and + where it still is." + + P.--That is sufficient, M. Magloire. Let the defendant go on. + + A.--I wanted to smoke; and so I resorted to the usual expedient, + which all sportsmen know. I tore open one of my cartridges, put, + instead of the lead, a piece of paper inside, and set it on fire. + + P.--And thus you get a light? + + A.--Not always, but certainly in one case out of three. + + P.--And the operation blackens the hands? + + A.--Not the operation itself. But, when I had lit my cigar, I + could not throw away the burning paper as it was: I might have + kindled a regular fire. + + P.--In the marshes? + + A.--But, sir, I smoked five or six cigars during the evening, + which means that I had to repeat the operation a dozen times at + least, and in different places,--in the woods and on the high- + road. Each time I quenched the fire with my fingers; and, as the + powder is always greasy, my hands naturally became soon as black + as those of a charcoal-burner. + + The accused gives this explanation in a perfectly natural but + still rather excited manner, which seems to make a great + impression. + + P.--Let us go on to your gun. Do you recognize it? + + A.--Yes, sir. May I look at it? + + P.--Yes. + + The accused takes up the gun with feverish eagerness, snaps the + two cocks, and puts one of his fingers inside the barrels. + + He turns crimson, and, bending down to his counsel, says a few + words to them so quickly and so low, that they do not reach us. + + P.--What is the matter? + + M. MAGLOIRE.--(Rising.) A fact has become patent which at once + establishes the innocence of M. de Boiscoran. By providential + intercession, his servant Anthony had cleaned the gun two days + before the day of the crime. It appears now that one of the + barrels is still clean, and in good condition. Hence it cannot be + M. de Boiscoran who has fired twice at Count Claudieuse. + + During this time the accused has gone up to the table on which the + objects are lying. He wraps his handkerchief around the ramrod, + slips it into one of the barrels, draws it out again, and shows + that it is hardly soiled. + + The whole audience is in a state of great excitement. + + P.--Do the same thing to the other barrel. + + The accused does it. The handkerchief remains clean. + + P.--You see, and still you have told us that you had burnt, + perhaps, a dozen cartridges to light your cigars. But the + prosecution had foreseen this objection, and they are prepared to + meet it. Sheriff, bring in the witness, Maucroy. + + Our readers all know this gentleman, whose beautiful collection of + weapons, sporting-articles, and fishing-tackle, is one of the + ornaments of our great Square. He is dressed up, and without + hesitation takes the required oath. + + P.--Repeat your deposition with regard to this gun. + + WITNESS.--It is an excellent gun, and very costly: such guns are + not made in France, where people are too economical. + + At this answer the whole audience laughs. M. Maucroy is not + exactly famous for cheap bargains. Even some of the jurymen can + hardly control their laughter. + + P.--Never mind your reflections on that object. Tell us only what + you know about the peculiarities of this gun. + + WITNESS.--Well, thanks to a peculiar arrangement of the + cartridges, and thanks, also, to the special nature of the + fulminating material, the barrels hardly ever become foul. + + A.--(Eagerly.) You are mistaken, sir. I have myself cleaned my gun + frequently; and I have, just on the contrary, found the barrels + extremely foul. + + WITNESS.--Because you had fired too often. But I mean to say that + you can use up two or three cartridges without a trace being left + in the barrels. + + A.--I deny that positively. + + P.--(To witness.) And if a dozen cartridges were burnt? + + WITNESS.--Oh, then, the barrels would be very foul. + + P.--Examine the barrels, and tell us what you see. + + WITNESS.--(After a minute examination.) I declare that two + cartridges cannot have been used since the gun was cleaned. + + P.--(To the accused.) Well, what becomes of that dozen cartridges + which you have used up to light your cigars, and which had + blackened your hands so badly? + + M. MAGLOIRE.--The question is too serious to be left entirely in + the hands of a single witness. + + THE PROSECUTING ATTORNEY.--We only desire the truth. It is easy to + make an experiment. + + WITNESS.--Oh, certainly! + + P.--Let it be done. + + Witness puts a cartridge into each barrel, and goes to the window + to explode them. The sudden explosion is followed by the screams + of several ladies. + + WITNESS.--(Returning, and showing that the barrels are no more + foul than they were before.) Well, you see I was right. + + P.--(To the accused.) You see this circumstance on which you + relied so securely, so far from helping you, only proves that your + explanation of the blackened state of your hands was a falsehood. + + Upon the president's order, witness is taken out, and the + examination of the accused is continued. + + P.--What were your relations with Count Claudieuse? + + A.--We had no intercourse with each other. + + P.--But it was known all over the country that you hated him? + + A.--That is a mistake. I declare, upon my honor, that I always + looked upon him as the best and most honorable of men. + + P.--There, at least, you agree with all who knew him. Still you + are at law with him? + + A.--I have inherited that suit from my uncle, together with his + fortune. I carried it on, but very quietly. I asked for nothing + better than a compromise. + + P.--And, when Count Claudieuse refused, you were incensed? + + A.--No. + + P.--You were so irritated against him, that you once actually + aimed your gun at him. At another time you said, "He will not + leave me alone till I put a ball into him." Do not deny! You will + hear what the witnesses say. + + Thereupon, the accused resumes his place. He looks as confident as + ever, and carries his head high. He has entirely overcome any + feeling of discouragement, and converses with his counsel in the + most composed manner. + + There can be no doubt, that, at this stage of the proceedings, + public opinion is on his side. He has won the good-will even of + those who came there strongly prejudiced. No one can help being + impressed by his proud but mournful expression of fate; and all + are touched by the extreme simplicity of his answers. + + Although the discussion about the gun has not turned out to his + advantage, it does not seem to have injured him. People are + eagerly discussing the question of the fouling of guns. A number + of incredulous persons, whom the experiment has not convinced, + maintain that M. Maucroy has been too rash in his statements. + Others express surprise at the reserve shown by counsel,--less by + that of M. Folgat, who is unknown here, than by that of M. + Magloire, who usually allows no opportunity to escape, but is sure + to profit by the smallest incident. + + The proceedings are not exactly suspended; but there is a pause, + whilst the ushers cover the articles on the table once more with + red cloth, and, after several comings and goings, roll a large + arm-chair in front of the judge's seat. + + At last one of the ushers comes up to the president, and whispers + something into his ear. + + The president only nods his head. + + When the usher has left the room, M. Domini says,-- + + "We shall now proceed to hear the witnesses, and we propose to + begin with Count Claudieuse. Although seriously indisposed, he has + preferred to appear in court." + + At these words Dr. Seignebos is seen to start up, as if he wished + to address the court; but one of his friends, sitting by him, + pulls him down by his coat. M. Folgat makes a sign to him, and he + sits down again. + + P.--Sheriff, bring in Count Claudieuse. + + + [Examination of Witnesses.] + + The small door through which the armorer Maucroy had been admitted + opens once more, and Count Claudieuse enters. Supported and almost + carried by his man-servant. + + He is greeted by a murmur of sympathetic pity. He is frightfully + thin; and his features look as haggard as if he were about to give + up the ghost. The whole vitality of his system seems to have + centred in his eyes, which shine with extraordinary brilliancy. + + He takes the oath in an almost inaudible voice. + + But the silence is so deep, that when the president asks him the + usual question, "Do you swear to tell the whole truth?" and he + answers, "I swear," the words are distinctly heard all over the + court-room. + + P.--(Very kindly.) We are very much obliged to you, sir, for the + effort which you have made. That chair has been brought in for + you: please sit down. + + COUNT CLAUDIEUSE.--I thank you, sir; but I am strong enough to + stand. + + P.--Please tell us, then, what you know of the attempt made on + your life. + + C.C.--It might have been eleven o'clock: I had gone to bed a + little while before, and blown out my light. I was in that half + state which is neither waking nor sleeping, when I saw my room + lighted up by a dazzling glare. I saw it was fire. I jumped out of + bed, and, only lightly dressed, rushed down the stairs. I found + some difficulty in opening the outer door, which I had locked + myself. At last I succeeded. But I had no sooner put my foot + outside than I felt a terrible pain in my right side, and at the + same time I heard an explosion of fire-arms. Instinctively I + rushed towards the place from which the shot seemed to have been + fired; but, before I had taken three steps, I was struck once more + in my shoulder, and fell down unconscious. + + P.--How long a time was there between the first and the second + shots? + + C.C.--Almost three or four seconds. + + P.--Was that time enough to distinguish the murderer? + + C.C.--Yes; and I saw him run from behind a wood-pile, where he had + been lying in ambush, and escape into the country. + + P.--You can tell us, no doubt, how he was dressed? + + C.C.--Certainly. He had on a pair of light gray trousers, a dark + coat, and a large straw hat. + + At a sign from the president, and in the midst of the most + profound silence, the ushers remove the red cloth from the table. + + P.--(Pointing at the clothes of the accused.) Does the costume + which you describe correspond with those cloths? + + C.C.--Of course; for they are the same. + + P.--Then you must have recognized the murderer. + + C.C.--The fire was so large at that time, that it was as bright as + daylight. I recognized M. Jacques de Boiscoran. + + There was, probably, in the whole vast audience assembled under + that roof, not a heart that was not seized with unspeakable + anguish when these crushing words were uttered. + + We were so fully prepared for them, that we could watch the + accused closely. + + Not a muscle in his face seemed to move. His counsel showed as + little any signs of surprise or emotion. + + Like ourselves, the president also, and the prosecuting attorney, + had been watching the accused and his counsel. Did they expect a + protest, an answer, any thing at all? Perhaps they did. + + But, as nothing came, the president continued, turning to + witness,-- + + P.--Your declaration is a very serious one, sir. + + C.C.--I know its weight. + + P.--It is entirely different from your first deposition made + before the investigating magistrate. + + C.C.--It is. + + P.--When you were examined a few hours after the crime, you + declared that you had not recognized the murderer. More than that, + when M. de Boiscoran's name was mentioned, you seemed to be + indignant of such a suspicion, and almost became surety yourself + for his innocence. + + C.C.--That was contrary to truth. I felt a very natural sense of + commiseration, and tried to save a man who belonged to a highly + esteemed family from disgraceful punishment. + + P.--But now? + + C.C.--Now I see that I was wrong, and that the law ought to have + its course. And this is my reason for coming here,--although + afflicted by a disease which never spares, and on the point of + appearing before God--in order to tell you M. de Boiscoran is + guilty. I recognized him. + + P.--(To the accused.) Do you hear? + + The accused rises and says,-- + + A.--By all that is dear and sacred to me in the world, I swear + that I am innocent. Count Claudieuse says he is about to appear + before God: I appeal to the justice of God. + + Sobs well-nigh drown the voice of the accused. The Marchioness de + Boiscoran is overcome by a nervous attack. She is carried out + stiff and inanimate; and Dr. Seignebos and Miss Chandore hasten + after her. + + A.--(To Count Claudieuse.) You have killed my mother! + + Certainly, all who had hoped for scenes of thrilling interest were + not disappointed. Everybody looks overcome with excitement. Tears + appear in the eyes of almost all the ladies. + + And yet those who watch the glances which are exchanged between M. + de Boiscoran and Count Claudieuse cannot help asking themselves, + if there is not something else between these two men, besides what + the trial has made known. We cannot explain to ourselves these + singular answers given to the president's questions, nor does any + one understand the silence observed by M. de Boiscoran's counsel. + Do they abandon their client? No; for we see them go up to him, + shake hands with him, and lavish upon him every sign of friendly + consolation and encouragement. + + We may even be permitted to say, that, to all appearances, the + president himself and the prosecuting attorney were, for a moment, + perfectly overcome with surprise. At all events, we thought so at + the moment. + + But the president continues,-- + + P.--I have but just been asking the accused, count, whether there + was any ground of enmity between you. + + C.C.--(In a steadily declining voice.) I know no other ground + except our lawsuit about a little stream of water. + + P.--Has not the accused once threatened to fire at you? + + C.C.--Yes; but I did not think he was in earnest, and I never + resented the matter. + + P. Do you persist in your declaration? + + C.C.--I do. And once more, upon my oath, I declare solemnly that I + recognized, in such a manner as to prevent any possible mistake, + M. Jacques Boiscoran. + + It was evidently time that Count Claudieuse should end his + evidence. He begins to totter; his eyes close; his head rolls from + side to side; and two ushers have to come to his assistance to + enable him, with the help of his own servant, to leave the room. + + Is the Countess Claudieuse to be called next? + + It was thought so; but it was not so. The countess being kept by + the bedside of one of her daughters, who is most dangerously ill, + will not be called at all; and the clerk of the court is ordered + to read her deposition. + + Although her description of the terrible event is very graphic, it + contains no new facts, and will remain without influence on the + proceedings. + + The next witness is Ribot. + + This is a fine handsome countryman, a regular village cock, with a + pink-and-blue cravat around his neck, and a huge gold chain + dangling from his watch-pocket. He seems to be very proud of his + appearance and looks around with an air of the most perfect self- + satisfaction. + + In the same way he relates his meeting with the accused in a tone + of great importance. He knows every thing and explains every + thing. With a little encouragement he would, no doubt, declare + that the accused had confided to him all his plans of incendiarism + and murder. His answers are almost all received with great + hilarity, which bring down upon the audience another and very + severe reprimand from the president. + + The witness Gaudry, who succeeds him, is a small, wretched-looking + man, with a false and timid eye, who exhausts himself in bows and + scrapes. Quite different from Ribot, he seems to have forgotten + every thing. It is evident he is afraid of committing himself. He + praises the count; but he does not speak the less well of M. de + Boiscoran. He assures the court of his profound respect for them + all,--for the ladies and gentlemen present, for everybody, in + fine. + + The woman Courtois, who comes next, evidently wishes she were a + thousand miles away. The president has to make the very greatest + efforts to obtain, word by word, her evidence, which, after all, + amounts to next to nothing. + + Then follow two farmers from Brechy, who have been present at the + violent altercation which ended in M. de Boiscoran's aiming with + his gun at Count Claudieuse. + + Their account, interrupted by numberless parentheses, is very + obscure. One of the counsel of the defendant requests them to be + more explicit; and thereupon they become utterly unintelligible. + Besides, they contradict each other. One has looked upon the act + of the accused as a mere jest: the other has looked upon it so + seriously as to throw himself between the two men, in order to + prevent M. de Boiscoran from killing his adversary then and there. + + Once more the accused protests, energetically, he never hated + Count Claudieuse: there was no reason why he should hate him. + + The obstinate peasant insists upon it that a lawsuit is always a + sufficient reason for hating a man. And thereupon he undertakes to + explain the lawsuit, and how Count Claudieuse, by stopping the + water of the Seille, overflowed M. de Boiscoran's meadows. + + The president at last stops the discussion, and orders another + witness to be brought in. + + This man swears he has head M. de Boiscoran say, that, sooner or + later, he would put a ball into Count Claudieuse. He adds, that + the accused is a terrible man, who threatened to shoot people upon + the slightest provocation. And, to support his evidence, he states + that once before, to the knowledge of the whole country, M. de + Boiscoran has fired at a man. + + The accused undertakes to explain this. A scamp, who he thinks was + no one else but the witness on the stand, came every night and + stole his tenants' fruit and vegetables. One night he kept watch, + and gave him a load of salt. He does not know whether he hit him. + At all events, the thief never complained, and thus was never + found out. + + The next witness is a constable from Brechy. He deposes that once + Count Claudieuse, by stopping up the waters of the little stream, + the Seille, had caused M. de Boiscoran a loss of twenty thousand + weight of first-rate hay. He confesses that such a bad neighbor + would certainly have exasperated him. + + The prosecuting attorney does not deny the fact, but adds, that + Count Claudieuse offered to pay damages. M. de Boiscoran had + refused with insulting haughtiness. + + The accused replies, that he had refused upon the advice of his + lawyer, but that he had not used insulting words. + + Next appeared the witnesses summoned by the defence. + + The first is the excellent priest from Brechy. He confirms the + statement of the accused. He was dining, the evening of the crime, + at the house of M. de Besson; his servant had come for him; and + the parsonage was deserted. He states that he had really arranged + with M. de Boiscoran that the latter should come some evening of + that week to fulfil the religious duties which the church requires + before it allows a marriage to be consecrated. He has known + Jacques de Boiscoran from a child, and knows no better and no more + honorable man. In his opinion, that hatred, of which so much has + been said, never had any existence. He cannot believe, and does + not believe, that the accused is guilty. + + The second witness is the priest of an adjoining parish. He + states, that, between nine and ten o'clock, he was on the road, + near the Marshalls' Cross-roads. The night was quite dark. He is + of the same size as the priest at Brechy; and the little girl + might very well have taken him for the latter, thus misleading M. + de Boiscoran. + + Three other witnesses are introduced; and then, as neither the + accused nor his counsel have any thing to add, the prosecuting + attorney begins his speech. + + + [The Charge.] + + M. Gransiere's eloquence is so widely known, and so justly + appreciated, that we need not refer to it here. We will only say + that he surpassed himself in this charge, which, for more than an + hour, held the large assembly in anxious and breathless suspense, + and caused all hearts to vibrate with the most intense excitement. + + He commences with a description of Valpinson, "this poetic and + charming residence, where the noble old trees of Rochepommier are + mirrored in the crystal waves of the Seille. + + "There," he went on to say,--"there lived the Count and the + Countess Claudieuse,--he one of those noblemen of a past age who + worshipped honor, and were devoted to duty; she one of those women + who are the glory of their sex, and the perfect model of all + domestic virtues. + + "Heaven had blessed their union, and given them two children, to + whom they were tenderly attached. Fortune smiled upon their wise + efforts. Esteemed by all, cherished, and revered, they lived + happy, and might have counted upon long years of prosperity. + + "But no. Hate was hovering over them. + + "One evening, a fatal glare arouses the count. He rushes out; he + hears the report of a gun. He hears it a second time, and he sinks + down, bathed in his blood. The countess also is alarmed by the + explosion, and hastens to the spot: she stumbles; she sees the + lifeless body of her husband, and sinks unconscious to the ground. + + "Are the children also to perish? No. Providence watches. A flash + of intelligence pierces the night of an insane man, who rushes + through the flames, and snatches the children from the fire that + was already threatening their couch. + + "Their lives are saved; but the fire continues its destructive + march. + + "At the sound of the terrible fire-bell, all the inhabitants of the + neighboring villages hurry to the spot. But there is no one to + direct their efforts; there are no engines; and they can do + nothing. + + "But all of a sudden a distant rumbling sound revives hope in their + hearts. They know the fire-engines are coming. They come; they + reach the spot; and whatever men can do is done at once. + + "But great God! What mean those cries of horror which suddenly rise + on all sides? The roof of the house is falling, and buries under + its ruins two men, the most zealous and most courageous of all the + zealous and courageous men,--Bolton the drummer, who had just now + summoned his neighbors to come to the rescue, and Guillebault, a + father with five children. + + "High above the crash and the hissing of flames rise their heart- + rending cries. They call for help. Will they be allowed to perish? + A gendarme rushes forward, and with him a farmer from Brechy. But + their heroism is useless: the monster keeps its prey. The two men + also are apparently doomed; and only by unheard-of efforts, and at + great peril of life, can they be rescued from the furnace. But + they are so grievously wounded, that they will remain infirm for + the rest of their lives, compelled to appeal to public charity for + their subsistence." + + Then the prosecuting attorney proceeds to paint the whole of the + disaster at Valpinson in the sombrest colors, and with all the + resources of his well-known eloquence. He describes the Countess + Claudieuse as she kneels by the side of her dying husband, while + the crowd is eagerly pressing around the wounded man and + struggling with the flames for the charred remains of the + unfortunate firemen. With increasing vehemence, he says next,-- + + "And during all this time what becomes of the author of these + fearful misdeeds? When his hatred is gratified, he flees through + the wood, and returns to his home. Remorse, there is none. As soon + as he reaches the house, he eats, drinks, smokes his cigar. His + position in the country is such, and the precautionary measures he + had taken appear to him so well chosen, that he thinks he is above + suspicion. He is calm. He feels so perfectly safe, that he + neglects the commonest precautions, and does not even take the + trouble of pouring out the water in which he has washed his hands, + blackened as they are by the fire he has just kindled. + + "He forgets that Providence whose torch on great occasions + illumines and guides human justice. + + "And how, indeed, could the law ever have expected to find the + guilty man in one of the most magnificent chateaux of the country + but for a direct intervention of Providence? + + "For the incendiary, the assassin, was actually there, at the + Chateau Boiscoran. + + "And let no one come and tell us that the past life of Jacques de + Boiscoran is such as to protect him against the formidable charges + that are brought against him. We know his past life. + + "A perfect model of those idle young men who spend in riotous + living a fortune painfully amassed by their fathers, Jacques de + Boiscoran had not even a profession. Useless to society, a burden + to himself, he passed through life like a ship without rudder and + without compass, indulging in all kinds of unhealthy fashions in + order to spend the hours that were weighing heavily upon him. + + "And yet he was ambitious; but his ambition lay in the direction of + those dangerous and wicked intrigues which inevitably lead men to + crime. + + "Hence we see him mixed up with all those sterile and wanton party + movements which discredit our days, uttering over and over again + hollow phrases in condemnation of all that is noble and sacred, + appealing to the most execrable passions of the multitude"-- + + M. MAGLOIRE.--If this is a political affair, we ought to be + informed beforehand. + + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.--There is no question of politics here. We speak + of the life of a man who has been an apostle of strife. + + M. MAGLOIRE.--Does the attorney-general fancy he is preaching + peace? + + PRESIDENT.--I request counsel for the defence not to interrupt. + + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.--And it is in this ambition of the accused that + we must look for a key to that terrible hatred which has led him + to commit such crimes. That lawsuit about a stream of water is a + matter of comparatively little importance. But Jacques de + Boiscoran was preparing to become a candidate for election. + + A.--I never dreamed of it. + + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.--(Not noticing the interruption.) He did not say + so; but his friends said it for him, and went about everywhere, + repeating that by his position, his wealth, and his opinions, he + was the man best worthy of the votes of Republicans. And he would + have had an excellent chance, if there had not stood between him + and the object of his desires Count Claudieuse, who had already + more than once succeeded in defeating similar plots. + + M. MAGLOIRE.--(Warmly.) Do you refer to me? + + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.--I allude to no one. + + M. MAGLOIRE.--You might just as well say at once, that my friends + as well as myself are all M. de Boiscoran's accomplices; and that + we have employed him to rid us of a formidable adversary. + + ATTORNEY-GENERAL.--(Continues.) Gentlemen, this is the real motive + of the crime. Hence that hatred which the accused soon is unable + to conceal any longer, which overflows in invectives, which breaks + forth in threats of death, and which actually carries him so far + that he points his gun at Count Claudieuse. + + The attorney-general next passes on to examine the charges, which, + he declares, are overwhelming and irrefutable. Then he goes on,-- + + "But what need is there of such questions after the crushing + evidence of Count Claudieuse? You have heard it,--on the point of + appearing before God! + + "His first impulse was to follow the generous nature of his heart, + and to pardon the man who had attempted his life. He desired to + save him; but, as he felt death come nearer, he saw that he had no + right to shield a criminal from the sword of justice: he + remembered that there were other victims beside himself. + + "And then, rising from his bed of agony, he dragged himself here + into court, in order to tell you. 'That is the man! By the light + of the fire which he had kindled, I saw him and recognized him. He + is the man!' + + "And could you hesitate after such evidence? No! I can not and will + not believe it. After such crimes, society expects that justice + should be done,--justice in the name of Count Claudieuse on his + deathbed,--justice in the name of the dead,--justice in the name + of Bolton's mother, and of Guillebault's widow and her five + children." + + A murmur of approbation accompanied the last words of M. + Gransiere, and continued for some time after he had concluded. + There is not a woman in the whole assembly who does not shed + tears. + + P.--The counsel for the defence. + + + [Pleading.] + + As M. Magloire had so far alone taken an active part in the + defence, it was generally believed that he would speak. But it was + not so. M. Folgat rises. + + Our court-house here in Sauveterre has at various times reechoed + the words of almost all our great masters of forensic eloquence. + We have heard Berryer, Dufaure, Jules Favre, and others; but, even + after these illustrious orators, M. Folgat still succeeds in + astonishing and moving us deeply. + + We can, of course, report here only a few of his phrases; and we + must utterly abandon all hope of giving an idea of his proud and + disdainful attitude, his admirable manner, full of authority, and + especially of his full, rich voice, which found its way into every + heart. + + "To defend certain men against certain charges," he began, "would + be to insult them. They cannot be touched. To the portrait drawn + by the prosecuting attorney, I shall simply oppose the answer + given by the venerable priest of Brechy. What did he tell you? M. + de Boiscoran is the best and most honorable of men. There is the + truth; they wish to make him out a political intriguant. He had, + it is true, a desire to be useful to his country. But, while + others debated, he acted. The Sauveterre Volunteers will tell you + to what passions he appealed before the enemy, and by what + intrigues he won the cross which Chausy himself fastened to his + breast. He wanted power, you say. No: he wished for happiness. You + speak of a letter written by him, the evening of the crime, to his + betrothed. I challenge you to read it. It covers four pages: + before you have read two, you will be forced to abandon the case." + + Then the young advocate repeats the evidence given by the accused; + and really, under the influence of his eloquence, the charges seem + to fall to the ground, and to be utterly annihilated. + + "And now," he went on, "what other evidence remains there? The + evidence given by Count Claudieuse. It is crushing, you say. I say + it is singular. What! here is a witness who sees his last hour + drawing nigh, and who yet waits for the last minute of his life + before he speaks. And you think that is natural! You pretend that + it was generosity which made him keep silent. I, I ask you how the + most cruel enemy could have acted more atrociously? + + " 'Never was a case clearer,' says the prosecution. On the + contrary, I maintain that never was a case more obscure; and that, + so far from fathoming the secret of the whole affair, the + prosecution has not found out the first word of it." + + M. Folgat takes his seat, and the sheriff's officers have to + interfere to prevent applause from breaking out. If the vote had + been taken at that moment, M. de Boiscoran would have been + acquitted. + + But the proceedings are suspended for fifteen minutes; and in the + meantime the lamps are lit, for night begins to fall. + + When the president resumes his chair, the attorney-general claims + his right to speak. + + "I shall not reply as I had at first proposed. Count Claudieuse is + about to pay with his life for the effort which he has made to + place his evidence before you. He could not even be carried home. + He is perhaps at this very moment drawing his last breath upon + earth in the adjoining room." + + The counsel for the defence do not desire to address the jury; + and, as the accused also declares that he has nothing more to say, + the president sums up, and the jurymen withdrew to their room to + deliberate. + + The heat is overwhelming, the restraint almost unbearable; and all + faces bear the marks of oppressive fatigue; but nobody thinks of + leaving the house. A thousand contradictory reports circulate + through the excited crowd. Some say that Count Claudieuse has + died; others, on the contrary, report him better, and add that he + has sent for the priest from Brechy. + + At last, a few minutes after nine o'clock, the jury reappears. + + Jacques de Boiscoran is declared guilty, and, on the score of + extenuating circumstances, sentenced to twenty years' penal labor. + + + + + THIRD PART + + COCOLEU + + + + I. + +Thus M. Galpin triumphed, and M. Gransiere had reason to be proud of +his eloquence. Jacques de Boiscoran had been found guilty. + +But he looked calm, and even haughty, as the president, M. Domini, +pronounced the terrible sentence, a thousand times braver at that +moment than the man who, facing the squad of soldiers from whom he is +to receive death, refuses to have his eyes bandaged, and himself gives +the word of command with a firm voice. + +That very morning, a few moments before the beginning of the trial, he +had said to Dionysia,-- + +"I know what is in store for me; but I am innocent. They shall not see +me turn pale, nor hear me ask for mercy." + +And, gathering up all the energy of which the human heart is capable, +he had made a supreme effort at the decisive moment, and kept his +word. + +Turning quietly to his counsel at the moment when the last words of +the president were lost among the din of the crowd, he said,-- + +"Did I not tell you that the day would come when you yourself would be +the first to put a weapon into my hands?" + +M. Folgat rose promptly. + +He showed neither the anger nor the disappointment of an advocate who +has just had a cause which he knew to be just. + +"That day has not come yet," he replied. "Remember your promise. As +long as there remains a ray of hope, we shall fight. Now we have much +more than mere hope at this moment. In less than a month, in a week, +perhaps to-morrow, we shall have our revenge." + +The unfortunate man shook his head. + +"I shall nevertheless have undergone the disgrace of a condemnation," +he murmured. + +The taking the ribbon of the Legion of Honor from his buttonhole, he +handed it to M. Folgat, saying-- + +"Keep this in memory of me, and if I never regain the right to wear +it"-- + +In the meantime, however, the gendarmes, whose duty it was to guard +the prisoner, had risen; and the sergeant said to Jacques,-- + +"We must go, sir. Come, come! You need not despair. You need not lose +courage. All is not over yet. There is still the appeal for you, and +then the petition for pardon, not to speak of what may happen, and +cannot be foreseen." + +M. Folgat was allowed to accompany the prisoner, and was getting ready +to do so; but the latter said, with a pained voice,-- + +"No, my friend, please leave me alone. Others have more need of your +presence than I have. Dionysia, my poor father, my mother. Go to them. +Tell them that the horror of my condemnation lies in the thought of +them. May they forgive me for the affliction which I cause them, and +for the disgrace of having me for their son, for her betrothed!" + +Then, pressing the hands of his counsel, he added,-- + +"And you, my friends, how shall I ever express to you my gratitude? +Ah! if incomparable talents, and matchless zeal and ability, had +sufficed, I know I should be free. But instead of that"--he pointed at +the little door through which he was to pass, and said in a +heartrending tone,-- + +"Instead of that, there is the door to the galleys. Henceforth"-- + +A sob cut short his words. His strength was exhausted; for if there +are, so to say, no limits to the power of endurance of the spirit, the +energy of the body has its bounds. Refusing the arm which the sergeant +offered him, he rushed out of the room. + +M. Magloire was well-nigh beside himself with grief. + +"Ah! why could we not save him?" he said to his young colleague. "Let +them come and speak to me again of the power of conviction. But we +must not stay here: let us go!" + +They threw themselves into the crowd, which was slowly dispersing, all +palpitating yet with the excitement of the day. + +A strange reaction was already beginning to set in,--a reaction +perfectly illogic, and yet intelligible, and by no means rare under +similar circumstances. + +Jacques de Boiscoran, an object of general execration as long as he +was only suspected, regained the sympathy of all the moment he was +condemned. It was as if the fatal sentence had wiped out the horror of +the crime. He was pitied; his fate was deplored; and as they thought +of his family, his mother, and his betrothed, they almost cursed the +severity of the judges. + +Besides, even the least observant among those present had been struck +by the singular course which the proceedings had taken. There was not +one, probably, in that vast assembly who did not feel that there was a +mysterious and unexplored side of the case, which neither the +prosecution nor the defence had chosen to approach. Why had Cocoleu +been mentioned only once, and then quite incidentally? He was an +idiot, to be sure; but it was nevertheless through his evidence alone +that suspicions had been aroused against M. de Boiscoran. Why had he +not been summoned either by the prosecution or by the defence? + +The evidence given by Count Claudieuse, also, although apparently so +conclusive at the moment, was now severely criticised. + +The most indulgent said,-- + +"That was not well done. That was a trick. Why did he not speak out +before? People do not wait for a man to be down before they strike +him." + +Others added,-- + +"And did you notice how M. de Boiscoran and Count Claudieuse looked at +each other? Did you hear what they said to each other? One might have +sworn that there was something else, something very different from a +mere lawsuit, between them." + +And on all sides people repeated,-- + +"At all events, M. Folgat is right. The whole matter is far from being +cleared up. The jury was long before they agreed. Perhaps M. de +Boiscoran would have been acquitted, if, at the last moment, M. +Gransiere had not announced the impending death of Count Claudieuse in +the adjoining room." + +M. Magloire and M. Folgat listened to all these remarks, as they heard +them in the crowd here and there, with great satisfaction; for in +spite of all the assertions of magistrates and judges, in spite of all +the thundering condemnations against the practice, public opinion will +find an echo in the court-room; and, more frequently than we think, +public opinion does dictate the verdict of the jury. + +"And now," said M. Magloire to his young colleague, "now we can be +content. I know Sauveterre by heart. I tell you public opinion is +henceforth on our side." + +By dint of perseverance they made their way, at last, out through the +narrow door of the court-room, when one of the ushers stopped them. + +"They wish to see you," said the man. + +"Who?" + +"The family of the prisoner. Poor people! They are all in there, in M. +Mechinet's office. M. Daubigeon told me to keep it for them. The +Marchioness de Boiscoran also was carried there when she was taken ill +in the court-room." + +He accompanied the two gentlemen, while telling them this, to the end +of the hall; then he opened a door, and said,-- + +"They are in there," and withdrew discreetly. + +There, in an easy-chair, with closed eyes, and half-open lips, lay +Jacques's mother. Her livid pallor and her stiff limbs made her look +like a dead person; but, from time to time, spasms shook her whole +body, from head to foot. M. de Chandore stood on one side, and the +marquis, her husband, on the other, watching her with mournful eyes +and in perfect silence. They had been thunderstruck; and, from the +moment when the fatal sentence fell upon their ears, neither of them +had uttered a word. + +Dionysia alone seemed to have preserved the faculty of reasoning and +moving. But her face was deep purple; her dry eyes shone with a +painful light; and her body shook as with fever. As soon as the two +advocates appeared, she cried,-- + +"And you call this human justice?" + +And, as they were silent, she added,--- + +"Here is Jacques condemned to penal labor; that is to say, he is +judicially dishonored, lost, disgraced, forever cut off from human +society. He is innocent; but that does not matter. His best friends +will know him no longer: no hand will touch his hand hereafter; and +even those who were most proud of his affection will pretend to have +forgotten his name." + +"I understand your grief but too well, madam," said M. Magloire. + +"My grief is not as great as my indignation," she broke in. "Jacques +must be avenged, and he shall be avenged! I am only twenty, and he is +not thirty yet: there is a whole life before us which we can devote to +the work of his rehabilitation; for I do not mean to abandon him. I! +His undeserved misfortunes make him a thousand times dearer to me, and +almost sacred. I was his betrothed this morning: this evening I am his +wife. His condemnation was our nuptial benediction. And if it is true, +as grandpapa says, that the law prohibits a prisoner to marry the +woman he loves, well, I will be his without marriage." + +Dionysia spoke all this aloud, so loud that it seemed she wanted all +the earth to hear what she was saying. + +"Ah! let me reassure you by a single word, madam," said M. Folgat. "We +have not yet come to that. The sentence is not final." + +The Marquis de Boiscoran and M. de Chandore started. + +"What do you mean?" + +"An oversight which M. Galpin has committed makes the whole proceeding +null and void. You will ask how a man of his character, so painstaking +and so formal, should have made such a blunder. Probably because he +was blinded by passion. Why had nobody noticed this oversight? Because +fate owed us this compensation. There can be no question about the +matter. The defect is a defect of form; and the law provides expressly +for the case. The sentence must be declared void, and we shall have +another trial." + +"And you never told us anything of that?" asked Dionysia. + +"We hardly dared to think of it," replied M. Magloire. "It was one of +those secrets which we dare not confide to our own pillow. Remember, +that, in the course of the proceedings, the error might have been +corrected at any time. Now it is too late. We have time before us; and +the conduct of Count Claudieuse relieves us from all restraint of +delicacy. The veil shall be torn now." + +The door opened violently, interrupting his words. Dr. Seignebos +entered, red with anger, and darting fiery glances from under his gold +spectacles. + +"Count Claudieuse?" M. Folgat asked eagerly. + +"Is next door," replied the doctor. "They have had him down on a +mattress, and his wife is by his side. What a profession ours is! Here +is a man, a wretch, whom I should be most happy to strangle with my +own hands; and I am compelled to do all I can to recall him to life: I +must lavish my attentions upon him, and seek every means to relieve +his sufferings." + +"Is he any better?" + +"Not at all! Unless a special miracle should be performed in his +behalf, he will leave the court-house only feet forward, and that in +twenty-four hours. I have not concealed it from the countess; and I +have told her, that, if she wishes her husband to die in peace with +Heaven, she has but just time to send for a priest." + +"And has she sent for one?" + +"Not at all! She told me her husband would be terrified by the +appearance of a priest, and that would hasten his end. Even when the +good priest from Brechy came of his own accord, she sent him off +unceremoniously." + +"Ah the miserable woman!" cried Dionysia. + +And, after a moment's reflection, she added,-- + +"And yet that may be our salvation. Yes, certainly. Why should I +hesitate? Wait for me here: I am coming back." + +She hurried out. Her grandpapa was about to follow her; but M. Folgat +stopped him. + +"Let her do it," he said,--"let her do it!" + +It had just struck ten o'clock. The court-house, just now as full and +as noisy as a bee-hive, was silent and deserted. In the immense hall, +badly lighted by a smoking lamp, there were only two men to be seen. +One was the priest from Brechy, who was praying on his knees close to +a door; and the other was the watchman, who was slowly walking up and +down, and whose steps resounded there as in a church. + +Dionysia went straight up to the latter. + +"Where is Count Claudieuse?" she asked. + +"There, madam," replied the man, pointing at the door before which the +priest was praying,--"there, in the private office of the commonwealth +attorney." + +"Who is with him?" + +"His wife, madam, and a servant." + +"Well, go in and tell the Countess Claudieuse,--but so that her +husband does not hear you,--that Miss Chandore desires to see her a +few moments." + +The watchman made no objection, and went in. But, when he came back, +he said to the young girl,-- + +"Madam, the countess sends word that she cannot leave her husband, who +is very low." + +She stopped him by an impatient gesture, and said,-- + +"Never mind! Go back and tell the countess, that, if she does not come +out, I shall go in this moment; that, if it must be, I shall force my +way in; that I shall call for help; that nothing will keep me. I must +absolutely see her." + +"But, madam"-- + +"Go! Don't you see that it is a question of life and death?" + +There was such authority in her voice, that the watchman no longer +hesitated. He went in once more, and reappeared a moment after. + +"Go in," he said to the young girl. + +She went in, and found herself in a little anteroom which preceded the +office of the commonwealth attorney. A large lamp illuminated the +room. The door leading to the room in which the count was lying was +closed. + +In the centre of the room stood the Countess Claudieuse. All these +successive blows had not broken her indomitable energy. She looked +pale, but calm. + +"Since you insist upon it, madam," she began, "I come to tell you +myself that I cannot listen to you. Are you not aware that I am +standing between two open graves,--that of my poor girl, who is dying +at my house, and that of my husband, who is breathing his last in +there?" + +She made a motion as if she were about to retire; but Dionysia stopped +her by a threatening look, and said with a trembling voice,-- + +"If you go back into that room where your husband is, I shall go back +with you, and I shall speak before him. I shall ask you right before +him, how you dare order a priest away from his bedside at the moment +of death, and whether, after having robbed him of all his happiness in +life, you mean to make him unhappy in all eternity." + +Instinctively the countess drew back. + +"I do not understand you," she said. + +"Yes, you do understand me, madam. Why will you deny it? Do you not +see that I know every thing, and that I have guessed what you have not +told me? Jacques was your lover; and your husband has had his +revenge." + +"Ah!" cried the countess, "that is too much; that is too much!" + +"And you have permitted it," Dionysia went on with breathless haste; +"and you did not come, and cry out in open court that your husband was +a false witness! What a woman you must be! You do not mind it, that +your love carries a poor unfortunate man to the galleys. You mean to +live on with this thought in your heart, that the man whom you love is +innocent, and nevertheless, disgraced forever, and cut off from human +society. A priest might induce the count to retract his statement, you +know very well; and hence you refuse to let the priest from Brechy +come to his bedside. And what is the end and aim of all your crimes? +To save your false reputation as an honest woman. Ah! that is +miserable; that is mean; that is infamous!" + +The countess was roused at last. What all M. Folgat's skill and +ability had not been able to accomplish, Dionysia obtained in an +instant by the force of her passion. Throwing aside her mask, the +countess exclaimed with a perfect burst of rage,-- + +"Well, then, no, no! I have not acted so, and permitted all this to +happen, because I care for my reputation. My reputation!--what does it +matter? It was only a week ago, when Jacques had succeeded in escaping +from prison, I offered to flee with him. He had only to say a word, +and I should have given up my family, my children, my country, every +thing, for him. He answered, 'Rather the galleys!' " + +In the midst of all her fearful sufferings, Dionysia's heart filled +with unspeakable happiness as she heard these words. Ah! now she could +no longer doubt Jacques. + +"He has condemned himself, you see," continued the countess. "I was +quite willing to ruin myself for him, but certainly not for another +woman." + +"And that other woman--no doubt you mean me!" + +"Yes!--you for whose sake he abandoned me,--you whom he was going to +marry,--you with whom he hoped to enjoy long happy years, and a +happiness not furtive and sinful like ours, but a legitimate, honest +happiness." + +Tears were trembling in Dionysia's eyes. She was beloved: she thought +of what she must suffer who was not beloved. + +"And yet I should have been generous," she murmured. The countess +broke out into a fierce, savage laugh. + +"And the proof of it is," said the young girl, "that I came to offer +you a bargain." + +"A bargain?" + +"Yes. Save Jacques, and, by all that is sacred to me in the world, I +promise I will enter a convent: I will disappear, and you shall never +hear my name any more." + +Intense astonishment seized the countess, and she looked at Dionysia +with a glance full of doubt and mistrust. Such devotion seemed to her +too sublime not to conceal some snare. + +"You would really do that?" she asked. + +"Unhesitatingly." + +"You would make a great sacrifice for my benefit?" + +"For yours? No, madam, for Jacques's." + +"You love him very dearly, do you?" + +"I love him dearly enough to prefer his happiness to my own a thousand +times over. Even if I were buried in the depths of a convent, I should +still have the consolation of knowing that he owed his rehabilitation +to me; and I should suffer less in knowing that he belonged to another +than that he was innocent, and yet condemned." + +But, in proportion as the young girl thus confirmed her sincerity, the +brow of the countess grew darker and sterner, and passing blushes +mantled her cheek. At last she said with haughty irony,-- + +"Admirable!" + +"Madam!" + +"You condescend to give up M. de Boiscoran. Will that make him love +me? You know very well he will not. You know that he loves you alone. +Heroism with such conditions is easy enough. What have you to fear? +Buried in a convent, he will love you only all the more ardently, and +he will execrate me all the more fervently." + +"He shall never know any thing of our bargain!" + +"Ah! What does that matter? He will guess it, if you do not tell him. +No: I know what awaits me. I have felt it now for two years,--this +agony of seeing him becoming daily more detached from me. What have I +not done to keep him near me! How I have stooped to meanness, to +falsehood, to keep him a single day longer, perhaps a single hour! But +all was useless. I was a burden to him. He loved me no longer; and my +love became to him a heavier load than the cannon-ball which they will +fasten to his chains at the galleys." + +Dionysia shuddered. + +"That is horrible!" she murmured. + +"Horrible! Yes, but true. You look amazed. That is because you have as +yet only seen the morning dawn of your love: wait for the dark +evening, and you will understand me. Is not the story of all of us +women the same! I have seen Jacques at my feet as you see him at +yours: the vows he swears to you, he once swore to me; and he swore +them to me with the same voice, tremulous with passion, and with the +same burning glances. But you think you will be his wife, and I never +was. What does that matter? What does he tell you? That he will love +you forever, because his love is under the protection of God and of +men. He told me, precisely because our love was not thus protected, +that we should be united by indissoluble bonds,--bonds stronger than +all others. You have his promise: so had I. And the proof of it is +that I gave him every thing,--my honor and the honor of my family, and +that I would have given him still more, if there had been any more to +give. And now to be betrayed, forsaken, despised, to sink lower and +lower, until at last I must become the object of your pity! To have +fallen so low, that you should dare come and offer me to give up +Jacques for my benefit! Ah, that is maddening! And I should let the +vengeance I hold in my hands slip from me at your bidding! I should be +stupid enough, blind enough, to allow myself to be touched by your +hypocritical tears! I should secure your happiness by the sacrifice of +my reputation! No, madam, cherish no such hope!" + +Her voice expired in her throat in a kind of toneless rattle. She +walked up and down a few times in the room. Then she placed herself +straight before Dionysia, and, looking fixedly into her eyes, she +asked,-- + +"Who suggested to you this plan of coming here, this supreme insult +which you tried to inflict upon me?" + +Dionysia was seized with unspeakable horror, and hardly found heart to +reply. + +"No one," she murmured. + +"M. Folgat?" + +"Knows nothing of it." + +"And Jacques?" + +"I have not seen him. The thought occurred to me quite suddenly, like +an inspiration on high. When Dr. Seignebos told me that you had +refused to admit the priest from Brechy, I said to myself, 'This is +the last misfortune, and the greatest of them all! If Count Claudieuse +dies without retracting, Jacques can never be fully restored, whatever +may happen hereafter, not even if his innocence should be +established.' Then I made up my mind to come to you. Ah! it was a hard +task. But I was in hopes I might touch your heart, or that you might +be moved by the greatness of my sacrifice." + +The countess was really moved. There is no heart absolutely bad, as +there is none altogether good. As she listened to Dionysia's +passionate entreaty, her resolution began to grow weaker. + +"Would it be such a great sacrifice?" she asked. + +Tears sprang to the eyes of the poor young girl. + +"Alas!" she said, "I offer you my life. I know very well you will not +be long jealous of me." + +She was interrupted by groans, which seemed to come from the room in +which the count was lying. + +The countess half-opened the door; and immediately a feeble, and yet +imperious voice was heard calling out,-- + +"Genevieve, I say, Genevieve!" + +"I am coming, my dear, in a moment," replied the countess. + +"What security can you give me," she said, in a hard and stern voice, +after having closed the door again,--"what security do you give me, +that if Jacques's innocence were established, and he reinstated, you +would not forget your promises?" + +"Ah, madam! How or upon what do you want me to swear that I am ready +to disappear. Choose your own securities, and I will do whatever you +require." + +Then, sinking down on her knees, before the countess, she went on,-- + +"Here I am at your feet, madam, humble and suppliant,--I whom you +accuse of a desire to insult you. Have pity on Jacques! Ah! if you +loved him as much as I do, you would not hesitate." + +The countess raised her suddenly and quickly, and holding her hands in +her own, looked at her for more than a minute without saying a word, +but with heaving bosom and trembling lips. At last she asked in a +voice which was so deeply affected, that it was hardly intelligible. + +"What do you want me to do?" + +"Induce Count Claudieuse to retract." + +The countess shook her head. + +"It would be useless to try. You do not know the count. He is a man of +iron. You might tear his flesh inch by inch with hot iron pincers, and +he would not take back one of his words. You cannot conceive what he +has suffered, nor the depth of the hatred, the rage, and the thirst of +vengeance, which have accumulated in his heart. It was to torture me +that he brought me here to his bedside. Only five minutes ago he told +me that he died content, since Jacques was declared guilty, and +condemned through his evidence." + +She was conquered: her energy was exhausted, and tears came to her +eyes. + +"He has been so cruelly tried!" she went on. "He loved me to +distraction; he loved nothing in the world but me. And I-- Ah, if we +could know, if we could foresee! No, I shall never be able to induce +him to retract." + +Dionysia almost forgot her own great grief. + +"Nor do I expect you to obtain that favor," she said very gently. + +"Who, then?" + +"The priest from Brechy. He will surely find words to shake even the +firmest resolution. He can speak in the name of that God, who, even on +the cross, forgave those who crucified Him." + +One moment longer the countess hesitated; and then, overcoming finally +the last rebellious impulses of her pride, she said,-- + +"Well, I will call the priest." + +"And I, madam, I swear I will keep my promise." + +But the countess stopped her, and said, making a supreme effort over +herself,-- + +"No: I shall try to save Jacques without making conditions. Let him be +yours. He loves you, and you were ready to sacrifice your life for his +sake. He forsakes me; but I sacrifice my honor to him. Farewell!" + +And hastening to the door, while Dionysia returned to her friends, she +summoned the priest from Brechy. + + + + II. + +M. Daubigeon, the commonwealth attorney, learned that morning from his +chief clerk what had happened, and how the proceedings in the +Boiscoran case were necessarily null and void on account of a fatal +error in form. The counsel of the defence had lost no time, and, after +spending the whole night in consultation, had early that morning +presented their application for a new trial to the court. + +The commonwealth attorney took no pains to conceal his satisfaction. + +"Now," he cried, "this will worry my friend Galpin, and clip his wings +considerably; and yet I had called his attention to the lines of +Horace, in which he speaks of Phaeton's sad fate, and says,-- + + 'Terret ambustus Phaeton avaras Spes.' + +But he would not listen to me, forgetting, that, without prudence, +force is a danger. And there he is now, in great difficulty, I am +sure." + +And at once he made haste to dress, and to go and see M. Galpin in +order to hear all the details accurately, as he told his clerk, but, +in reality, in order to enjoy to his heart's content the discomfiture +of the ambitious magistrate. + +He found him furious, and ready to tear his hair. + +"I am disgraced," he repeated: "I am ruined; I am lost. All my +prospects, all my hopes, are gone. I shall never be forgiven for such +an oversight." + +To look at M. Daubigeon, you would have thought he was sincerely +distressed. + +"Is it really true," he said with an air of assumed pity,--"is it +really true, what they tell me, that this unlucky mistake was made by +you?" + +"By me? Yes, indeed! I forgot those wretched details which a scholar +knows by heart. Can you understand that? And to say that no one +noticed my inconceivable blindness! Neither the first court of +inquiry, nor the attorney-general himself, nor the presiding judge, +ever said a word about it. It is my fate. And that is to be the result +of my labors. Everybody, no doubt, said, 'Oh! M. Galpin has the case +in hand; he knows all about it: no need to look after the matter when +such a man has taken hold of it.' And here I am. Oh! I might kill +myself." + +"It is all the more fortunate," replied M. Daubigeon, "that yesterday +the case was hanging on a thread." + +The magistrate gnashed his teeth, and replied,-- + +"Yes, on a thread, thanks to M. Domini! whose weakness I cannot +comprehend, and who did not know at all, or who was not willing to +know, how to make the most of the evidence. But it was M. Gransiere's +fault quite as much. What had he to do with politics to drag them into +the affair? And whom did he want to hit? No one else but M. Magloire, +the man whom everybody respects in the whole district, and who had +three warm personal friends among the jurymen. I foresaw it, and I +told him where he would get into trouble. But there are people who +will not listen. M. Gransiere wants to be elected himself. It is a +fancy, a monomania of our day: everybody wants to be a deputy. I wish +Heaven would confound all ambitious men!" + +For the first time in his life, and no doubt for the last time also, +the commonwealth attorney rejoiced at the misfortune of others. Taking +savage pleasure in turning the dagger in his poor friend's wounds, he +said,-- + +"No doubt M. Folgat's speech had something to do with it." + +"Nothing at all." + +"He was brilliantly successful." + +"He took them by surprise. It was nothing but a big voice, and grand, +rolling sentences." + +"But still"-- + +"And what did he say, after all? That the prosecution did not know the +real secret of the case. That is absurd!" + +"The new judges may not think so, however." + +"We shall see." + +"This time M. de Boiscoran's defence will be very different. He will +spare nobody. He is down now, and cannot fall any lower." + +"That may be. But he also risks having a less indulgent jury, and not +getting off with twenty years." + +"What do his counsel say?" + +"I do not know. But I have just sent my clerk to find out; and, if you +choose to wait"-- + +M. Daubigeon did wait, and he did well; for M. Mechinet came in very +soon after, with a long face for the world, but inwardly delighted. + +"Well?" asked M. Galpin eagerly. + +He shook his head, and said in a melancholy tone of voice,-- + +"I have never seen any thing like this. How fickle public opinion is, +after all! Day before yesterday M. de Boiscoran could not have passed +through the town without being mobbed. If he should show himself +to-day, they would carry him in triumph. He has been condemned, and +now he is a martyr. It is known already that the sentence is void, and +they are delighted. My sisters have just told me that the ladies in +good society propose to give to the Marchioness de Boiscoran and to +Miss Chandore some public evidence of their sympathy. The members of +the bar will give M. Folgat a public dinner." + +"Why that is monstrous!" cried M. Galpin. + +"Well," said M. Daubigeon, " 'the opinions of men are more fickle and +changeable than the waves of the sea.' " + +But, interrupting the quotation, M. Galpin asked his clerk,-- + +"Well, what else?" + +"I went to hand M. Gransiere the letter which you gave me for him"-- + +"What did he say?" + +"I found him in consultation with the president, M. Domini. He took +the letter, glanced at it rapidly, and told me in his most icy tone, +'Very well!' To tell the truth, I thought, that, in spite of his stiff +and grand air, he was in reality furious." + +The magistrate looked utterly in despair. + +"I can't stand it," he said sighing. "These men whose veins have no +blood in them, but poison, never forgive." + +"Day before yesterday you thought very highly of him." + +"Day before yesterday he did not look upon me as the cause of a great +misfortune for him." + +M. Mechinet went on quite eagerly,-- + +"After leaving M. Gransiere, I went to the court-house, and there I +head the great piece of news which has set all the town agog. Count +Claudieuse is dead." + +M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin looked at each other, and exclaimed in the +same breath,-- + +"Great God! Is that so?" + +"He breathed his last this morning, at two or three minutes before six +o'clock. I saw his body in the private room of the attorney-general. +The priest from Brechy was there, and two other priests from his +parish. They were waiting for a bier to have him carried to his +house." + +"Poor man!" murmured M. Daubigeon. + +"But I heard a great deal more," Mechinet said, "from the watchman who +was on guard last night. He told me that when the trial was over, and +it became known that Count Claudieuse was likely to die, the priest +from Brechy came there, and asked to be allowed to offer him the last +consolations of his church. The countess refused to let him come to +the bedside of her husband. The watchman was amazed at this; and just +then Miss Chandore suddenly appeared, and sent word to the countess +that she wanted to speak to her." + +"Is it possible?" + +"Quite certain. They remained together for more than a quarter of an +hour. What did they say? The watchman told me he was dying with +curiosity to know; but he could hear nothing, because there was the +priest from Brechy, all the while, kneeling before the door, and +praying. When they parted, they looked terribly excited. Then the +countess immediately called in the priest, and he stayed with the +count till he died." + +M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin had not yet recovered from their amazement +at this account, when somebody knocked timidly at the door. + +"Come in!" cried Mechinet. + +The door opened, and the sergeant of gendarmes appeared. + +"I have been sent here by the attorney-general," he said; "and the +servant told me you were up here. We have just caught Trumence." + +"That man who had escaped from jail?" + +"Yes. We were about to carry him back there, when he told us that he +had a secret to reveal, a very important, urgent secret, concerning +the condemned prisoner, Boiscoran." + +"Trumence?" + +"Yes. Then we carried him to the court-house, and I came for orders." + +"Run and say that I am coming to see him!" cried M. Daubigeon. "Make +haste! I am coming after you." + +But the gendarme, a model of obedience, had not waited so long: he was +already down stairs. + +"I must leave you, Galpin," said M. Daubigeon, very much excited. "You +heard what the man said. We must know what that means at once." + +But the magistrate was not less excited. + +"You permit me to accompany you, I hope?" he asked. + +He had a right to do so. + +"Certainly," replied the commonwealth attorney. "But make haste!" + +The recommendation was not needed. M. Galpin had already put on his +boots. He now slipped his overcoat over his home dress, as he was; and +off they went. + +Mechinet followed the two gentlemen as they hastened down the street; +and the good people of Sauveterre, always on the lookout, were not a +little scandalized at seeing their well-known magistrate, M. Galpin, +in his home costume,--he who generally was most scrupulously precise +in his dress. + +Standing on their door-steps, they said to each other,-- + +"Something very important must have happened. Just look at these +gentlemen!" + +The fact was, they were walking so fast, that people might well +wonder; and they did not say a word all the way. + +But, ere they reached the court-house, they were forced to stop; for +some four or five hundred people were filling the court, crowding on +the steps, and actually pressing against the doors. + +Immediately all became silent; hats were raised; the crowd parted; and +a passage was opened. + +On the porch appeared the priest from Brechy, and two other priests. + +Behind them came attendants from the hospital, who bore a bier covered +with black cloth; and beneath the cloth the outlines of a human body +could be seen. + +The women began to cry; and those who had room enough knelt down. + +"Poor countess!" murmured one of them. "Here is her husband dead, and +they say one of her daughters is dying at home." + +But M. Daubigeon, the magistrate, and Mechinet were too preoccupied +with their own interests to think of stopping for more reliable news. +The way was open: they went in, and hastened to the clerk's office, +where the gendarmes had taken Trumence, and now were guarding him. + +He rose as soon as he recognized the gentlemen, and respectfully took +off his cap. It was really Trumence; but the good-for-nothing vagrant +did not present his usual careless appearance. He looked pale, and was +evidently very much excited. + +"Well," said M. Daubigeon, "so you have allowed yourself to be +retaken?" + +"Beg pardon, judge," replied the poor fellow, "I was not retaken. I +came of my own accord." + +"Involuntarily, you mean?" + +"Quite by my own free will! Just ask the sergeant." + +The sergeant stepped forward, touched his cap, and reported,-- + +"That is the naked truth. Trumence came himself to our barrack, and +said, 'I surrender as a prisoner. I wish to speak to the commonwealth +attorney, and give importance evidence.' " + +The vagabond drew himself up proudly,-- + +"You see, sir, that I did not lie. While these gentlemen were +galloping all over the country in search of me, I was snugly ensconced +in a garret at the Red Lamb, and did not think of coming out from +there till I should be entirely forgotten." + +"Yes; but people who lodge at the Red Lamb have to pay, and you had no +money." + +Trumence very quietly drew from his pocket a handful of Napoleons, and +of five-and-twenty-franc notes, and showed them. + +"You see that I had the wherewithal to pay for my room," he said. "But +I surrendered, because, after all, I am an honest man, and I would +rather suffer some trouble myself than see an innocent gentleman go to +the galleys." + +"M. de Boiscoran?" + +"Yes. He is innocent! I know it; I am sure of it; and I can prove it. +And, if he will not tell, I will tell,--tell every thing!" + +M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin were utterly astounded. + +"Explain yourself," they both said in the same breath. + +But the vagrant shook his head, pointing at the gendarmes; and, as a +man who is quite cognizant of all the formalities of the law, he +replied,-- + +"But it is a great secret; and, when one confesses, one does not like +anybody else to hear it but the priest. Besides, I should like my +deposition to be taken down in writing." + +Upon a sign made by M. Galpin, the gendarmes withdrew; and Mechinet +took his seat at a table, with a blank sheet of paper before him. + +"Now we can talk," said Trumence: "that's the way I like it. I was not +thinking myself of running away. I was pretty well off in jail; winter +is coming, I had not a cent; and I knew, that, if I were retaken, I +should fare rather badly. But M. Jacques de Boiscoran had a notion to +spend a night outside." + +"Mind what you are saying," M. Galpin broke in severely. "You cannot +play with the law, and go off unpunished." + +"May I die if I do not tell the truth!" cried Trumence. "M. Jacques +has spent a whole night out of jail." + +The magistrate trembled. + +"What a story that is!" he said again. + +"I have my proof," replied Trumence coldly, "and you shall hear. Well, +as he wanted to leave, M. Jacques came to me, and we agreed, that in +consideration of a certain sum of money which he has paid me, and of +which you have seen just now all that is left, I should make a hole in +the wall, and that I should run off altogether, while he was to come +back when he had done his business." + +"And the jailer?" asked M. Daubigeon. + +Like a true peasant of his promise, Trumence was far too cunning to +expose Blangin unnecessarily. Assuming, therefore, the whole +responsibility of the evasion, he replied,-- + +"The jailer saw nothing. We had no use for him. Was not I, so to say, +under-jailer? Had not I been charged by you yourself, M. Galpin, with +keeping watch over M. Jacques? Was it not I who opened and locked his +door, who took him to the parlor, and brought him back again?" + +That was the exact truth. + +"Go on!" said M. Galpin harshly. + +"Well," said Trumence, "every thing was done as agreed upon. One +evening, about nine o'clock, I make my hole in the wall, and here we +are, M. Jacques and I, on the ramparts. There he slips a package of +banknotes into my hand, and tells me to run for it, while he goes +about his business. I thought he was innocent then; but you see I +should not exactly have gone through the fire for him as yet. I said +to myself, that perhaps he was making fun of me, and that, once on the +wing, he would not be such a fool as to go back into the cage. This +made me curious, as he was going off, to see which way he was going,-- +and there I was, following him close upon his heels!" + +The magistrate and the commonwealth attorney, accustomed as they both +were, by the nature of their profession, to conceal their feelings, +could hardly restrain now,--one, the hope trembling within him, and +the other, the vague apprehensions which began to fill his heart. + +Mechinet, who knew already all that was coming, laughed in his sleeve +while his pen was flying rapidly over the paper. + +"He was afraid he might be recognized," continued the vagrant, "and so +M. Jacques had been running ever so fast, keeping close to the wall, +and choosing the narrowest lanes. Fortunately, I have a pair of very +good legs. He goes through Sauveterre like a race-horse; and, when he +reaches Mautrec Street, he begins to ring the bell at a large gate." + +"At Count Claudieuse's house!" + +"I know now what house it was; but I did not know then. Well, he +rings. A servant comes and opens. He speaks to her, and immediately +she invites him in, and that so eagerly, that she forgets to close the +gate again." + +M. Daubigeon stopped him by a gesture. + +"Wait!" he said. + +And, taking up a blank form, he filled it up, rang the bell, and said +to an usher of the court who had hastened in, giving him the printed +paper,-- + +"I want this to be taken immediately. Make haste; and not a word!" + +Then Trumence was directed to go on; and he said,-- + +"There I was, standing in the middle of the street, feeling like a +fool. I thought I had nothing left me but to go and use my legs: that +was safest for me. But that wretched, half-open gate attracted me. I +said to myself, 'If you go in, and they catch you, they will think you +have come to steal, and you'll have to pay for it.' That was true; but +the temptation was too strong for me. My curiosity broke my heart, so +to say, and, 'Come what may, I'll risk it,' I said. I push the huge +gate just wide enough to let me in, and here I am in a large garden. +It was pitch dark; but, quite at the bottom of the garden, three +windows in the lower story of the house were lighted up. I had +ventured too far now to go back. So I went on, creeping along +stealthily, until I reached a tree, against which I pressed closely, +about the length of my arm from one of the windows, which belonged to +a beautiful parlor. I look--and I see whom? M. de Boiscoran. As there +were no curtains to the windows, I could see as well as I can see you. +His face looked terrible. I was asking myself for whom he could be +waiting there, when I saw him hiding behind the open door of the room, +like a man who is lying in wait for somebody, with evil intentions. +This troubled me very much; but the next moment a lady came in. +Instantly M. Jacques shuts the door behind her; the lady turns round, +sees him, and wants to run, uttering at the same time a loud cry. That +lady was the Countess Claudieuse!" + +He looked as if he wished to pause to watch the effect of his +revelation. But Mechinet was so impatient, that he forgot the modest +character of his duty, and said hastily,-- + +"Go on; go on!" + +"One of the windows was half open," continued the vagrant, "and thus I +could hear almost as well as I saw. I crouched down on all-fours and +kept my head on a level with the ground, so as not to lose a word. Oh, +it was fearful! At the first word I understood it all: M. Jacques and +the Countess Claudieuse had been lovers." + +"This is madness!" cried M. Galpin. + +"Well, I tell you I was amazed. The Countess Claudieuse--such a pious +lady! But I have ears; don't you think I have? M. Jacques reminded her +of the night of the crime, how they had been together a few minutes +before the fire broke out, as they had agreed some days before to meet +near Valpinson at that very time. At this meeting they had burnt their +love-letters, and M. Jacques had blackened his fingers badly in +burning them." + +"Did you really hear that?" asked M. Daubigeon. + +"As I hear you, sir." + +"Write it down, Mechinet," said the commonwealth attorney with great +eagerness,--"write that down carefully." + +The clerk was sure to do it. + +"What surprised me most," continued Trumence, "was, that the countess +seemed to consider M. Jacques guilty, and he thought she was. Each +accused the other of the crime. She said, 'You attempted the life of +my husband, because you were afraid of him!' And he said, 'You wanted +to kill him, so as to be free, and to prevent my marriage!' " + +M. Galpin had sunk into a chair: he stammered,-- + +"Did anybody ever hear such a thing?" + +"However, they explained; and at last they found out that they were +both of them innocent. Then M. Jacques entreated the countess to save +him; and she replied that she would certainly not save him at the +expense of her reputation, and so enable him, as soon as he was free +once more, to marry Miss Chandore. Then he said to her, 'Well, then I +must tell all;' and she, 'You will not be believed. I shall deny it +all, and you have no proof!' In his despair, he reproached her +bitterly, and said she had never loved him at all. Then she swore she +loved him more than ever; and that, as he was free now, she was ready +to abandon every thing, and to escape with him to some foreign +country. And she conjured him to flee, in a voice which moved my +heart, with loving words such as I have never heard before in my life, +and with looks which seemed to be burning fire. What a woman! I did +not think he could possibly resist. And yet he did resist; and, +perfectly beside himself with anger, he cried, 'Rather the galleys!' +Then she laughed, mocking him, and saying, 'Very well, you shall go to +the galleys!' " + +Although Trumence entered into many details, it was quite evident that +he kept back many things. + +Still M. Daubigeon did not dare question him, for fear of breaking the +thread of his account. + +"But that was nothing at all," said the vagrant. "While M. Jacques and +the countess were quarrelling in this way, I saw the door of the +parlor suddenly open as if by itself, and a phantom appear in it, +dressed in a funeral pall. It was Count Claudieuse himself. His face +looked terrible; and he had a revolver in his hand. He was leaning +against the side of the door; and he listened while his wife and M. +Jacques were talking of their former love-affairs. At certain words, +he would raise his pistol as if to fire; then he would lower it again, +and go on listening. It was so awful, I had not a dry thread on my +body. It was very hard not to cry out to M. Jacques and the countess, +'You poor people, don't you see that the count is there?' But they saw +nothing; for they were both beside themselves with rage and despair: +and at last M. Jacques actually raised his hand to strike the +countess. 'Do not strike that woman!' suddenly said the count. They +turn round; they see him, and utter a fearful cry. The countess fell +on a chair as if she were dead. I was thunderstruck. I never in my +life saw a man behave so beautifully as M. Jacques did at that moment. +Instead of trying to escape, he opened his coat, and baring his +breast, he said to the husband, 'Fire! You are in your right!' The +count, however, laughed contemptuously, and said, 'The court will +avenge me!'--'You know very well that I am innocent.'--'All the +better.'--'It would be infamous to let me be condemned.'--'I shall do +more than that. To make your condemnation sure, I shall say that I +recognized you.' The count was going to step forward, as he said this; +but he was dying. Great God, what a man! He fell forward, lying at +full-length on the floor. Then I got frightened, and ran away." + +By a very great effort only could the commonwealth attorney control +his intense excitement. His voice, however, betrayed him as he asked +Trumence, after a solemn pause,-- + +"Why did you not come and tell us all that at once?" + +The vagabond shook his head, and said,-- + +"I meant to do so; but I was afraid. You ought to understand what I +mean. I was afraid I might be punished very severely for having run +off." + +"Your silence has led the court to commit a grievous mistake." + +"I had no idea M. Jacques would be found guilty. Big people like him, +who can pay great lawyers, always get out of trouble. Besides, I did +not think Count Claudieuse would carry out his threat. To be betrayed +by one's wife is hard; but to send an innocent man to the galleys"-- + +"Still you see"-- + +"Ah, if I could have foreseen! My intentions were good; and I assure +you, although I did not come at once to denounce the whole thing, I +was firmly resolved to make a clean breast of it if M. Jacques should +get into trouble. And the proof of it is, that instead of running off, +and going far away, I very quietly lay concealed at the Red Lamb, +waiting for the sentence to be published. As soon as I heard what was +done last night, I did not lose an hour, and surrendered at once to +the gendarmes." + +In the meantime, M. Galpin had overcome his first amazement, and now +broke out furiously,-- + +"This man is an impostor. The money he showed us was paid him to bear +false witness. How can we credit his story?" + +"We must investigate the matter," replied M. Daubigeon. He rang the +bell; and, when the usher came in, he asked,-- + +"Have you done what I told you?" + +"Yes, sir," replied the man. "M. de Boiscoran and the servant of Count +Claudieuse are here." + +"Bring in the woman: when I ring, show M. de Boiscoran in." + +This woman was a big country-girl, plain of face, and square of +figure. She seemed to be very much excited, and looked crimson in her +face. + +"Do you remember," asked M. Daubigeon, "that one night last week a man +came to your house, and asked to see your mistress?" + +"Oh, yes!" replied the honest girl. "I did not want to let him in at +first; but he said he came from the court, and then I let him in." + +"Would you recognize him?" + +"Certainly." + +The commonwealth attorney rang again; the door opened, and Jacques +came in, his face full of amazement and wonder. + +"That is the man!" cried the servant. + +"May I know?" asked the unfortunate man. + +"Not yet!" replied M. Daubigeon. "Go back, and be of good hope!" + +But Jacques remained standing where he was, like a man who has +suddenly been overcome, looking all around with amazed eyes, and +evidently unable to comprehend. + +How could he have comprehended what was going on? + +They had taken him out of his cell without warning; they had carried +him to the court-house; and here he was confronted with Trumence, whom +he thought he should never see again, and with the servant of the +Countess Claudieuse. + +M. Galpin looked the picture of consternation; and M. Daubigeon, +radiant with delight, bade him be of good hope. + +Hopeful of what? How? To what purpose? + +And Mechinet made him all kinds of signs. + +The usher who had brought him in had actually to take him out. + +Immediately the commonwealth attorney turned again to the servant-girl +and said,-- + +"Now, my good girl, can you tell me if any thing special happened in +connection with this gentleman's visit at your house?" + +"There was a great quarrel between him and master and mistress." + +"Were you present?" + +"No. But I am quite certain of what I say." + +"How so?" + +"Well, I will tell you. When I went up stairs to tell the countess +that there was a gentleman below who came from the courts, she was in +a great hurry to go down, and told me to stay with the count, my +master. Of course, I did what she said. But no sooner was she down +than I heard a loud cry. Master, who had looked all in a stupor, heard +it too: he raised himself on his pillow, and asked me where my +mistress was. I told him, and he was just settling down to try and +fall asleep again, when the sound of loud voices came up to us. 'That +is very singular,' said master. I offered to go down and see what was +the matter: but he told me sharply not to stir an inch. And, when the +voices became louder and louder, he said, 'I will go down myself. Give +me my dressing-gown.' + +"Sick as he was, exhausted, and almost on his deathbed, it was very +imprudent in him, and might easily have cost him his life. I ventured +to speak to him; but he swore at me, and told me to hush, and to do +what he ordered me to do. + +"The count--God be merciful to his soul!--was a very good man, +certainly; but he was a terrible man also, and when he got angry, and +talked in a certain way, everybody in the house began to tremble, even +mistress. + +"I obeyed, therefore, and did what he wanted. Poor man! He was so weak +he could hardly stand up, and had to hold on to a chair while I helped +him just to hang his dressing-gown over his shoulders. + +"Then I asked him if he would not let me help him down. But looking at +me with awful eyes, he said, 'You will do me the favor to stay here, +and, whatever may happen, if you dare so much as open the door while I +am away, you shall not stay another hour in my service.' + +"Then he went out, holding on to the wall; and I remained alone in the +chamber, all trembling, and feeling as sick as if I had known that a +great misfortune was coming upon us. + +"However, I heard nothing more for a time; and as the minutes passed +away, I was just beginning to reproach myself for having been so +foolishly alarmed, when I heard two cries; but, O sir! two such +fearful, sharp cries, that I felt cold shivers running all over me. + +"As I did not dare leave the room, I put my ear to the door, and I +heard distinctly the count's voice, as he was quarrelling with another +gentleman. But I could not catch a single word, and only made out that +they were angry about a very serious matter. + +"All of a sudden, a great but dull noise, like that of the fall of a +heavy body, then another awful cry, I had not a drop of blood left in +my veins at that moment. + +"Fortunately, the other servants, who had gone to bed, had heard +something. They had gotten up, and were now coming down the passage. + +"I left the room at all hazards, and went down stairs with the others, +and there we found my mistress fainting in an armchair, and my master +stretched out at full-length, lying on the floor like a dead man." + +"What did I say?" cried Trumence. + +But the commonwealth attorney made him a sign to keep quiet; and, +turning again to the girl, he asked,-- + +"And the visitor?" + +"He was gone, sir. He had vanished." + +"What did you do then?" + +"We raised up the count: we carried him up stairs and laid him on his +bed. Then we brought mistress round again; and the valet went in haste +to fetch Dr. Seignebos." + +"What said the countess when she recovered her consciousness?" + +"Nothing. Mistress looked like a person who has been knocked in the +head." + +"Was there any thing else?" + +"Oh, yes, sir!" + +"What?" + +"The oldest of the young ladies, Miss Martha, was seized with terrible +convulsions." + +"How was that?" + +"Why, I only know what miss told us herself." + +"Let us hear what she said." + +"Ah! It is a very singular story. When this gentleman whom I have just +seen here rang the bell at our gate, Miss Martha, who had already gone +to bed, got up again, and went to the window to see who it was. She +saw me go and open, with a candle in my hand, and come back again with +the gentleman behind me. She was just going to bed again, when she +thought she saw one of the statues in the garden move, and walk right +off. We told her it could not be so; but she did not mind us. She told +us over and over again that she was quite sure that she saw that +statue come up the avenue, and take a place behind the tree which is +nearest to the parlor-window." + +Trumence looked triumphant. + +"That was I!" he cried. + +The girl looked at him, and said, only moderately surprised,-- + +"That may very well be." + +"What do you know about it?" asked M. Daubigeon. + +"I know it must have been a man who had stolen into the garden, and +who had frightened Miss Martha so terribly, because Dr. Seignebos +dropped, in going out, a five-franc piece just at the foot of that +tree, where miss said she had seen the man standing. The valet who +showed the doctor out helped him look for his money; and, as they +sought with the candle, they saw the footprints of a man who wore +iron-shod shoes." + +"The marks of my shoes!" broke in Trumence again; and sitting down, +and raising his legs, he said to the magistrate,-- + +"Just look at my shoes, and you will see there is no lack of iron +nails!" + +But there was no need for such evidence; and he was told,-- + +"Never mind that! We believe you." + +"And you, my good girl," said M. Daubigeon again, "can you tell us, +if, after these occurrences, Count Claudieuse had any explanation with +your mistress?" + +"No, I do not know. Only I saw that the count and the countess were no +longer as they used to be with each other." + +That was all she knew. She was asked to sign her deposition; and then +M. Daubigeon told her she might go. + +Then, turning to Trumence, he said,-- + +"You will be taken to jail now. But you are an honest man, and you +need not give yourself any trouble. Go now." + +The magistrate and the commonwealth attorney remained alone now, +since, of course, a clerk counts for nothing. + +"Well," said M. Daubigeon, "what do you think of that?" + +M. Galpin was dumfounded. + +"It is enough to make one mad," he murmured. + +"Do you begin to see how that M. Folgat was right when he said the +case was far from being so clear as you pretended?" + +"Ah! who would not have been deceived as I was? You yourself, at one +time at least, were of my opinion. And yet, if the Countess Claudieuse +and M. de Boiscoran are both innocent, who is the guilty one?" + +"That is what we shall know very soon; for I am determined I will not +allow myself a moment's rest till I have found out the truth of the +whole matter. How fortunate it was that this fatal error in form +should have made the sentence null and void!" + +He was so much excited, that he forgot his never-failing quotations. +Turning to the clerk, he said,-- + +"But we must not lose a minute. Put your legs into active motion, my +dear Mechinet, and run and ask M. Folgat to come here. I will wait for +him here." + + + + III. + +When Dionysia, after leaving the Countess Claudieuse, came back to +Jacques's parents and his friends, she said, radiant with hope,-- + +"Now victory is on our side!" + +Her grandfather and the Marquis de Boiscoran urged her to explain; but +she refused to say any thing, and only later, towards evening, she +confessed to M. Folgat what she had done with the countess, and that +it was more than probable that the count would, before he died, +retract his evidence. + +"That alone would save Jacques," said the young advocate. + +But his hope only encouraged him to make still greater efforts; and, +all overcome as he was by his labors and emotions of the trial, he +spent the night in Grandpapa Chandore's study, preparing with M. +Magloire the application they proposed to make for a new trial. + +They finished only when it was already broad daylight: so he did not +care to go to bed, and installed himself in a large easy-chair for the +purpose of getting a few hours' rest. + +He had, however, not slept more than an hour, when old Anthony roused +him to tell him that there was an unknown man down stairs who asked to +see him instantly. + +M. Folgat rubbed his eyes, and at once went down: in the passage he +found himself face to face with a man of some fifty years, of rather +suspicious appearance, who wore his mustache and his chin-beard, and +was dressed in a tight coat and large trousers, such as old soldiers +affect. + +"You are M. Folgat?" asked this man. + +"Yes." + +"Well, I--I am the agent whom friend Goudar sent to England." + +The young lawyer started, and asked,-- + +"Since when are you here?" + +"Since this morning, by express. Twenty-four hours too late, I know; +for I bought a newspaper at the station. M. de Boiscoran has been +found guilty. And yet I swear I did not lose a minute; and I have well +earned the gratuity which I was promised in case of success." + +"You have been successful, have you?" + +"Of course. Did I not tell you in my letter from Jersey that I was +sure of success?" + +"You have found Suky?" + +"Twenty-four hours after I wrote to you,--in a public-house at Bonly +Bay. She would not come, the wretch!" + +"You have brought her, however?" + +"Of course. She is at the Hotel de France, where I have left her till +I could come and see you." + +"Does she know any thing?" + +"Every thing." + +"Make haste and bring her here." + +From the time when M. Folgat first hoped for this recovery of the +servant-girl, he had made up his mind to make the most of her +evidence. + +He had slipped a portrait of the Countess Claudieuse into an album of +Dionysia's, amidst some thirty photographs. He now went for this +album, and had just put it upon the centre-table in the parlor when +the agent came back with his captive. + +She was a tall, stout woman of some forty years, with hard features, +masculine manners, and dressed, as all common English-women are, with +great pretensions to fashion. + +When M. Folgat questioned her, she answered in very fair, intelligible +French, which was only marred by her strong English accent,-- + +"I stayed four years at the house in Vine Street; and I should be +there still, but for the war. As soon as I entered upon my duties, I +became aware that I was put in charge of a house in which two lovers +had their meetings. I was not exactly pleased, because, you know, we +have our self-respect; but it was a good place. I had very little to +do, and so I staid. However, my master mistrusted me: I saw that very +clearly. When a meeting was to take place, my master sent me on some +errand to Versailles, to Saint Germain, or even to Orleans. This hurt +me so much, that I determined I would find out what they tried so hard +to conceal from me. It was not very difficult; and the very next week +I knew that my master was no more Sir Francis Burnett than I was; and +that he had borrowed the name from a friend of his." + +"How did you go about to find it out?" + +"Oh! very simply. One day, when my master went away on foot, I +followed him, and saw him go into a house in University Street. Before +the house opposite, some servants were standing and talking. I asked +them who the gentleman was; and they told me it was the son of the +Marquis de Boiscoran." + +"So much for the master; but the lady." + +Suky Wood smiled. + +"As for the lady," she replied, "I did the same thing to find her out. +It cost me, however, a great deal more time and a great deal more +patience, because she took the very greatest precautions; and I lost +more than one afternoon in watching her. But, the more she tried to +hide, the more I was curious to know, as a matter of course. At last, +one evening when she left the house in her carriage, I took a cab and +followed her. I traced her thus to her house; and next morning I +talked to the servants there, and they told me that she was a lady who +lived in the province, but came every year to Paris to spend a month +with her parents, and that her name was Countess Claudieuse." + +And Jacques had imagined and strongly maintained that Suky would not +know any thing, in fact, could not know any thing! + +"But did you ever see this lady?" asked M. Folgat. + +"As well as I see you." + +"Would you recognize her?" + +"Among thousands." + +"And if you saw her portrait?" + +"I should know it at once." + +M. Folgat handed her the album. + +"Well, look for her," he said. + +She had found the likeness in a moment. + +"Here she is!" cried Suky, putting her finger on the photograph. + +There was no doubt any longer. + +"But now, Miss Suky," said the young advocate, "you will have to +repeat all that before a magistrate." + +"I will do so with pleasure. It is the truth." + +"If that is so, they will send for you at your lodgings, and you will +please stay there till you are called. You need not trouble yourself +about any thing. You shall have whatever you want, and they will pay +you your wages as if you were in service." + +M. Folgat had not time to say more; for Dr. Seignebos rushed in like a +tempest, and cried out at the top of his voice,-- + +"Victory! We are victorious now! Great Victory!" + +But he could not speak before Suky and the agent. They were sent off; +and, as soon as they had left the room, he said to M. Folgat,-- + +"I am just from the hospital. I have seen Goudar. He had done it. He +had made Cocoleu talk." + +"And what does he say?" + +"Well, exactly what I knew he would say, as soon as they could loose +his tongue. But you will hear it all; for it is not enough that +Cocoleu should confess it to Goudar: there must be witnesses present +to certify to the confessions of the wretch." + +"He will not talk before witnesses." + +"He must not see them: they can be concealed. The place is admirably +adapted for such a purpose." + +"But how, if Cocoleu refuses to talk after the witnesses have been +introduced?" + +"He will not. Goudar has found out a way to make him talk whenever he +wants it. Ah! that man is a clever man, and understands his business +thoroughly. Have you full confidence in him?" + +"Oh, entire!" + +"Well, he says he is sure he will succeed. 'Come to-day,' he said to +me, 'between one and two, with M. Folgat, the commonwealth attorney, +and M. Galpin: put yourself where I will show you, and then let me go +to work.' Then he showed me the place where he wants us to remain, and +told me how we should let him know when we are all ready." + +M. Folgat did not hesitate. + +"We have not a moment to lose. Let me go at once to the court-house." + +But they were hardly in the passage when they were met by Mechinet, +who came running up out of breath, and half mad with delight. + +"M. Daubigeon sends me to say you must come to him at once. Great +news! Great news!" + +And immediately he told them in a few words what had happened in the +morning,--Trumence's statement, and the deposition of the maid of +Countess Claudieuse. + +"Ah, now we are safe!" cried Dr. Seignebos. + +M. Folgat was pale with excitement. Still he proposed,-- + +"Let us tell the marquis and Miss Dionysia what is going on before we +leave the house." + +"No," said the doctor, "no! Let us wait till every thing is quite +safe. Let us go quick; let us go at once." + +They were right to make haste. The magistrate and the commonwealth +attorney were waiting for them with the greatest impatience. As soon +as they came into the small room of the clerk's office, M. Daubigeon +cried,-- + +"Well, I suppose Mechinet has told you all?" + +"Yes," replied M. Folgat; "but we have some information of which you +have heard as yet nothing." + +Then he told them that Suky Wood had arrived, and what she had given +in as evidence. + +M. Galpin had sunk into a chair, completely crushed by the weight of +so many proofs of his misapprehension of the case. There he sat +without saying a word, without moving a muscle. But M. Daubigeon was +radiant. + +"Most assuredly," he cried, "Jacques must be innocent!" + +"Most assuredly he is innocent!" said Dr. Seignebos; "and the proof of +it is, that I know who is guilty." + +"Oh!" + +"And you will know too, if you will take the trouble of following me, +with M. Galpin, to the hospital." + +It was just striking one; and not one of them all had eaten any thing +that morning. But they had no time to think of breakfast. + +Without a shadow of hesitation, M. Daubigeon turned to M. Galpin, and +said,-- + +"Will you come, Galpin?" + +The poor magistrate rose mechanically, after the manner of an +automaton, and they went out, creating no small sensation among the +good people of Sauveterre, when they appeared thus all in a group. + +M. Daubigeon spoke first to the lady superior of the hospital; and, +when he had explained to her what their purpose was in coming there, +she raised her eyes heavenward, and said with a sigh of resignation,-- + +"Well, gentlemen, do as you like, and I hope you will be successful; +for it is a sore trial for us poor sisters to have these continual +visitations in the name of the law." + +"Please follow me, then, to the Insane Ward, gentlemen," said the +doctor. + +They call the Insane Ward at the Sauveterre hospital a small, low +building, with a sanded court in front, and a tall wall around the +whole. The building is divided into six cells, each of which has two +doors,--one opening into the court, and the other an outside door for +the assistants and servants. + +It was to one of these latter doors that Dr. Seignebos led his +friends. And after having recommended to them the most perfect +silence, so as not to rouse Cocoleu's suspicions, he invited them into +one of the cells, in which the door leading into the court had been +closed. There was, however, a little grated window in the upper part +of the door, so that they could, without being seen, both see and hear +all that was said and done in the court reserved for the use of the +insane. + +Not two yards from the little window, Goudar and Cocoleu were sitting +on a wooden bench in the bright sunlight. + +By long study and a great effort of will, Goudar had succeeded in +giving to his face a most perfect expression of stupidity: even the +people belonging to the hospital thought he was more idiotic than the +other. + +He held in his hand his violin, which the doctor had ordered to be +left to him; and he accompanied himself with a few notes, as he +repeated the same familiar song which he had sung on the New-Market +Square when he first accosted M. Folgat. + +Cocoleu, a large piece of bread-and-butter in one hand, and a big +clasp-knife in the other, was finishing his meal. + +But this music delighted him so intensely, that he actually forgot to +eat, and, with hanging lip and half-closed eyes, rocked himself to and +fro, keeping time with the measure. + +"They look hideous!" M. Folgat could not keep from whispering. In the +meantime Goudar, warned by the preconcerted signal, had finished his +song. He bent over, and drew from under the bench an enormous bottle, +from which he seemed to draw a considerable quantity of something +pleasant. + +Then he passed it to Cocoleu, who likewise began to pull, eagerly and +long, and with an expression of idiotic beatitude. Then patting his +stomach with his hands, he said,-- + +"That's--that's--that's--good!" + +M. Daubigeon whispered into Dr. Seignebos's ear,-- + +"Ah, I begin to see! I notice from Cocoleu's eyes, that this practice +with the bottle must have been going on for some time already. Cocoleu +is drunk." + +Goudar again took up his violin and repeated his song. + +"I--I--want--want to--to drink!" stammered Cocoleu. + +Goudar kept him waiting a little while, and then handed him the +bottle. The idiot threw back his head, and drank till he had lost his +breath. Then Goudar asked,-- + +"Ah! you did not have such good wine to drink at Valpinson?" + +"Oh, yes!" replied Cocoleu. + +"But as much as you wanted?" + +"Yes. Quite--enough." + +And, laughing with some difficulty, he stammered, and stuttered out,-- + +"I got--got into the cellar through one of the windows; and I drank-- +drank through--through a--a straw." + +"You must be sorry you are no longer there?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"But, if you were so well off at Valpinson, why did you set it on +fire?" + +The witnesses of the strange scene crowded to the little window of the +cell, and held their breath with eager expectation. + +"I wanted to burn some fagots only, to make the count come out. It was +not my fault, if the whole house got on fire." + +"And why did you want to kill the count?" + +"Because I wanted the great lady to marry M. de Boiscoran." + +"Ah! She told you to do it, did she?" + +"Oh, no! But she cried so much; and then she told me she would be so +happy if her husband were dead. And she was always good to Cocoleu; +and the count was always bad; and so I shot him." + +"Well! But why, then, did you say it was M. de Boiscoran who shot the +count?" + +"They said at first it was me. I did not like that. I would rather +they should cut off his head than mine." + +He shuddered as he said this, so that Goudar, afraid of having gone +rather too fast, took up his violin, and gave him a verse of his song +to quiet him. Then accompanying his words still now and then with a +few notes, and after having allowed Cocoleu to caress his bottle once +more, he asked again,-- + +"Where did you get a gun?" + +"I--I had taken it from the count to shoot birds: and I--I have it +still--still. It is hid in the hole where Michael found me." + +Poor Dr. Seignebos could not stand it any longer. He suddenly pushed +open the door, and, rushing into the court, he cried,-- + +"Bravo, Goudar! Well done!" + +At the noise, Cocoleu had started up. He evidently understood it all; +for terror drove the fumes of the wine out of his mind in an instant, +and he looked frightened to death. + +"Ah, you scoundrel!" he howled. + +And, throwing himself upon Goudar, he plunged his knife twice into +him. + +The movement was so rapid and so sudden, that it had been impossible +to prevent it. Pushing M. Folgat violently back as he tried to disarm +him, Cocoleu leaped into a corner of the court, and there, looking +like a wild beast driven to bay, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth +foaming, he threatened with his formidable knife to kill any one who +should come near him. + +At the cries of M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin, the assistants in the +hospital came rushing in. The struggle, however, would probably have +been a long one, notwithstanding their numbers, if one of the keepers +had not, with great presence of mind, climbed up to the top of the +wall, and caught the arm of the wretch in a noose. By these means he +was thrown down in a moment, disarmed, and rendered harmless. + +"You--you may--may do--do what you--you choose; I--I won't say--say +another w-w-word!" + +In the meantime, poor Dr. Seignebos, who had unwillingly caused the +catastrophe, was distressed beyond measure; still he hastened to the +assistance of Goudar, who lay insensible on the sand of the court. The +two wounds which the detective had received were quite serious, but +not fatal, or even very dangerous, as the knife had been turned aside +by the ribs. He was at once carried into one of the private rooms of +the hospital, and soon recovered his consciousness. + +When he saw all four of the gentlemen bending anxiously over his bed, +he murmured with a mournful smile,-- + +"Well, was I not right when I said that my profession is a rascally +profession?" + +"But you are at liberty now to give it up," replied M. Folgat, +"provided always a certain house in Vine Street should not prove too +small for your ambition." + +The pale face of the detective recovered its color for a moment. + +"Will they really give it to me?" he asked. + +"Since you have discovered the real criminal, and handed him over to +justice." + +"Well, then, I will bless these wounds: I feel that I shall be up +again in a fortnight. Give me quick pen and ink, that I may write my +resignation immediately, and tell my wife the good news." + +He was interrupted by the entrance of one of the officers of the +court, who, walking up to the commonwealth attorney, said to him +respectfully,-- + +"Sir, the priest from Brechy is waiting for you at your office." + +"I am coming directly," replied M. Daubigeon. + +And, turning to his companions, he said,-- + +"Let us go, gentlemen." + +The priest was waiting, and rose quickly from his chair when he saw M. +Daubigeon enter, accompanied by M. Galpin, M. Folgat, and Dr. +Seignebos. + +"Perhaps you wish to speak to me alone, sir?" asked M. Daubigeon. + +"No, sir," replied the old priest, "no! The words of reparation which +have been intrusted to me must be uttered publicly." And handing him a +letter, he added,-- + +"Read this. Please read it aloud." + +The commonwealth attorney tore the envelope with a tremulous hand, an +then read,-- + + "Being about to die as a Christian, as I have lived as a Christian, + I owe it to myself, I owe it to God whom I have offended, and I + owe it to those men whom I have deceived, to declare the truth. + + "Actuated by hatred, I have been guilty of giving false evidence in + court, and of stating wrongfully that M. de Boiscoran is the man + who shot at me, and that I recognized him in the act. + + "I did not only not recognize him, but I know that he is innocent. + I am sure of it; and I swear it by all I hold sacred in this world + which I am about to leave, and in that world in which I must + appear before my sovereign Judge. + + "May M. de Boiscoran pardon me as I pardon myself. + + "TRIVULCE COUNT CLAUDIEUSE." + +"Poor man!" murmured M. Folgat. + +The priest at once went on,-- + +"You see, gentlemen, Count Claudieuse withdraws his charge +unconditionally. He asks for nothing in return: he only wants the +truth to be established. And yet I beg leave to express the last +wishes of a dying man. I beseech you, in the new trial, to make no +mention of the name of the countess." + +Tears were seen in all eyes. + +"You may rest assured, reverend father," said M. Daubigeon, "that +Count Claudieuse's last wishes shall be attended to. The name of the +countess shall not appear. There will be no need for it. The secret of +her wrongs shall be religiously kept by those who know it." + +It was four o'clock now. + +An hour later there arrived at the court-house a gendarme and Michael, +the son of the Boiscoran tenant, who had been sent out to ascertain if +Cocoleu's statement was true. They brought back the gun which the +wretch had used, and which he had concealed in that den which he had +dug out for himself in the forest of Rochepommier, and where Michael +had discovered him the day after the crime. + +Henceforth Jacques's innocence was as clear as daylight; and although +he had to bear the burden of his sentence till the judgment was +declared void, it was decided, with the consent of the president of +the court, M. Domini, and the active cooperation of M. Gransiere, that +he should be set free that same evening. + +M. Folgat and M. Magloire were charged with the pleasant duty of +informing the prisoner of this happy news. They found him walking up +and down in his cell like a madman, devoured by unspeakable anguish, +and not knowing what to make of the words of hope which M. Daubigeon +had spoken to him in the morning. + +He was hopeful, it is true; and yet when he was told that he was safe, +that he was free, he sank, an inert mass, into a chair, being less +able to bear joy than sorrow. + +But such emotions are not apt to last long. A few moments later, and +Jacques de Boiscoran, arm in arm with his counsel, left his prison, in +which he had for several months suffered all that an honest man can +suffer. He had paid a fearful penalty for what, in the eyes of so many +men, is but a trifling wrong. + +When they reached the street in which the Chandores lived, M. Folgat +said to his client,-- + +"They do not expect you, I am sure. Go slowly, while I go ahead to +prepare them." + +He found Jacques's parents and friends assembled in the parlor, +suffering great anxiety; for they had not been able to ascertain if +there were any truth in the vague rumors which had reached them. + +The young advocate employed the utmost caution in preparing them for +the truth; but at the first words Dionysia asked,-- + +"Where is Jacques?" + +Jacques was kneeling at her feet, overcome with gratitude and love. + + + + V. + +The next day the funeral of Count Claudieuse took place. His youngest +daughter was buried at the same time; and in the evening the Countess +left Sauveterre, to make her home henceforth with her father in Paris. + + + +In the proper course of the law, the sentence which condemned Jacques +was declared null and void; and Cocoleu, found guilty of having +committed the crime at Valpinson, was sentenced to hard labor for +life. + +A month later Jacques de Boiscoran was married at the church in Brechy +to Dionysia de Chandore. The witnesses for the bridegroom were M. +Magloire and Dr. Seignebos; the witnesses for the bride, M. Folgat and +M. Daubigeon. + +Even the excellent commonwealth attorney laid aside on that day some +of his usual gravity. He continually repeated,-- + + "Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero + Pulsanda tellus." + +And he really did drink his glass of wine, and opened the ball with +the bride. + +M. Galpin, who was sent to Algiers, was not present at the wedding. +But M. Mechinet was there, quite brilliant, and, thanks to Jacques, +free from all pecuniary troubles. + +The two Blangins, husband and wife, have well-nigh spent the whole of +the large sums of money which they extorted from Dionysia. Trumence, +private bailiff at Boiscoran, is the terror of all vagrants. + +And Goudar, in his garden and nursery, sells the finest peaches in Paris. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Within an Inch of His Life, by Emile Gaboriau + diff --git a/old/wnohl10.zip b/old/wnohl10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c852070 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wnohl10.zip |