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diff --git a/3336-h/3336-h.htm b/3336-h/3336-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9008e4a --- /dev/null +++ b/3336-h/3336-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,27770 @@ +<?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> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <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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