Saniel passed the first proofs of his two ‘concours’ so brilliantly that
the results of either were not doubtful. In delivering his thesis for
the ‘agregation’, he commanded the admiration of his audience; by turns
aggressive, severe, ironical, eloquent, he reduced his adversary to such
an extremity that, overwhelmed, he was not able to reply. In his lecture
at the hospital, his eloquence and his clear demonstration convinced the
judges who were opposed to him that he was in the right.
What could Caffie’s death weigh, placed in the balance with these
results? So little that it counted for nothing, and would have held
no place in his thoughts if it had not been mixed in his mind with the
accusation that would send Florentin to the assizes.
Cleared of this fact, the death of the old man rarely crossed his mind.
He had other things in his head, truly, than this memory which brought
neither regret nor remorse; and it was not at this moment, when he
touched the end at which he aimed, that he would embarrass himself, or
sadden his triumph, with Caffie.
A little before the expiration of the two months, during which time
the poste restante retained the letters containing the thirty thousand
francs, he called for them, and readdressed and mailed them to other
post-offices.
What did he want of this money, which was, in reality, a nuisance? His
habits remained the same, except that he no longer struggled with his
creditors, and paid cash for everything. He had no desire to make any
change in his former mode of living; his ambition was otherwise and
higher than in the small satisfactions, very small for him, that money
gives.
Days passed without a thought of Caffie, except in connection with
Florentin. But Florentin, and above all, Phillis, reminded him that
the comfort he enjoyed he owed to Caffie’s death, and he was troubled
accordingly.
He did not believe that the investigations of the law would reach him
now; everything conspired to confirm him in his scrutiny. That which
he arranged so laboriously had succeeded according to his wish, and the
only imprudence that he had committed, in a moment of aberration, seemed
not to have been observed; no one had noticed his presence in the cafe
opposite Caffie’s house, and no one was astonished at his pertinacity in
remaining there at an hour so unusual.
But it was not enough that he was safe; he must prevent Florentin from
being unjustly condemned for a crime of which he was innocent. It was
a great deal that he should be imprisoned, that his sister should be in
despair, and his mother ill from chagrin; but if he should be sent to
the scaffold or to the galleys, it would be too much. In itself the
death of Caffie was a small thing; it became atrocious if it led to such
an ending.
He did not wish this to happen, and he would do everything not only to
prevent the condemnation, but to shorten the imprisonment.
It was this sentiment that he obeyed in going to see the judge; but
the manner in which he was received, showing him that the law was
not disposed to let its hypothesis be changed by a simple medical
demonstration, threw him into a state of uneasiness and perplexity.
Without doubt, any one else in his place would have let things take
their course, and since the law had a criminal with which it contented
itself, would have done nothing to release him. While it followed its
hypothesis to prove the criminality of the one it held, it would not
look elsewhere; when it had condemned him, all would be finished; the
Caffie affair would be buried, as Caffie himself was buried; silence and
oblivion would give him security. The crime punished, the conscience of
the public satisfied, it would ask for no more, not even to know if the
debt was paid by the one who really owed it; it was paid, and that was
sufficient. But he was not “any one else,” and if he found the death of
this old scamp legitimate, it was on the condition that Florentin did
not pay for it, from whom he had not profited.
Florentin must be released as soon as possible, and it was his duty
to interest himself in his behalf--his imperative duty not only toward
Phillis, but toward himself.
He told Phillis that until Florentin came before the jury, he could
do nothing, or almost nothing. When the time came, he would assert his
authority, and speaking in the name of science, he would prove to the
jury that the story of the button was an invention of the police, who
were pushed to extremes, and would not bear examination; but until then
the poor boy remained at Mazas, and however assured one might be at this
moment of an acquittal, an immediate ‘ordonnance de non-lieu’ was of
more value, if it could be obtained.
For this the intervention and direction of a doctor were of little use;
it required that of an advocate.
Whom should he have? Phillis would have liked to apply to the most
illustrious, to him who, by his talent, authority, and success, would
win all his cases. But Saniel explained to her that workers of miracles
were probably as difficult to find at the bar as in the medical
profession, and that, if they did exist, they would expect a large fee.
To tell the truth, he would have willingly given the thirty thousand
francs in the ‘poste restante’, or a large part of this sum, to give
Florentin his liberty; but it would be imprudent to take out the bills
at this moment, and he could not declare that he had thirty thousand
francs, or even ten thousand. He decided with Phillis to consult
Brigard.
On a Wednesday he went to the parlor in the Rue Vaugirard, where he
had not been since his experiment with Glady. As usual, he was received
affectionately by Crozat, who scolded him for coming so rarely, and as
usual also, in order not to disturb the discussion that was going on, he
remained standing near the door.
This evening the theme of the discourse was a phrase of Chateaubriand’s:
“The tiger kills and sleeps; man kills and is sleepless.” On listening
to the discussion, Saniel said to himself that it was truly a pity not
to be able to reply to all this rhetoric by a simple fact of personal
experience. He had never slept so well, so tranquilly, as since Caffie’s
death, which relieved him from all the cares that in these last months
had tormented and broken his sleep so much.
At the end, Brigard concluded the discussion on saying that nothing
better proved the power of the human conscience than this difference
between man and beast.
When they had all gone but Brigard, and Saniel was alone with him and
Crozat, he stated his desire.
“But is it the Caffie affair?”
“Exactly.”
And he explained in detail the interest he felt in Florentin, the son of
one of his patients, and also the situation of this patient.
Brigard strongly recommended Nougarede, and described his recent
successes before a jury. Crozat concurred with Brigard, and advised
Saniel to see Nougarede the day after to-morrow.
“In the morning, because after the Palais, Nougarede will be at
his wedding, which, as you know, prevents him from coming here this
evening.”
“What! Nougarede married?” exclaimed Saniel, surprised that the favorite
disciple gave this lie to the doctrine and examples of his master.
“My God, yes! We must not be too hard on him.
“He submits to the fate of a special environment. Without our knowledge,
Nougarede, we may say it now, and ought to say it, was the happy
lover of a charming young person, the daughter of one of our most
distinguished actresses, who was brought up in a fashionable convent.
You see the situation. The result of this liaison was a child, a
delicious little boy. It seemed quite natural that they should live ‘en
union libre’, since they loved each other, and not weaken by legalities
the strength of those that attached them to this child. But the mother
is an actress, as I have told you, and wished her daughter to receive
all the sacraments that the law and the church can confer. She managed
so well that poor Nougarede yielded. He goes to the mayor, to the
church; he legitimizes the child, and he even accepts a dot of two
hundred thousand francs. I pity him, the unfortunate man! But I confess
that I have the weakness to not condemn him as he would deserve if he
married in any other way.”
Saniel was a little surprised at these points of resemblance with the
charming young person that Caffie had proposed to him. At the least, it
was curious; but if it were the same woman, he was not vexed to see that
Nougarede had been less difficult than himself.