“A little better, my boy, thank you.”
And when the sick man would wake up at night, he would often see his
servant seated in an armchair, weeping silently.
Never had the old druggist been so cared for, so fondled, so spoiled. At
first he had said to himself:
“As soon as I am well I shall get rid of this rascal.”
He was now convalescing, and from day to day he would put off dismissing
his murderer. He thought that no one would ever show him such care and
attention, for he held this man through fear; and he warned him that he
had left a document with a lawyer denouncing him to the law if any new
accident should occur.
This precaution seemed to guarantee him against any future attack; and
he then asked himself if it would not be wiser to keep this man near
him, in order to watch him closely.
Just as formerly, when he would hesitate about taking some larger place
of business, he could not make up his mind to any decision.
“There is always time,” he would say to himself.
Denis continued to show himself an admirable servant. M. Marambot was
well. He kept him.
One morning, just as he was finishing breakfast, he suddenly heard a
great noise in the kitchen. He hastened in there. Denis was struggling
with two gendarmes. An officer was taking notes on his pad.
As soon as he saw his master, the servant began to sob, exclaiming:
“You told on me, monsieur, that's not right, after what you had promised
me. You have broken your word of honor, Monsieur Marambot; that is not
right, that's not right!”
M. Marambot, bewildered and distressed at being suspected, lifted his
hand:
“I swear to you before the Lord, my boy that I did not tell on you. I
haven't the slightest idea how the police could have found out about
your attack on me.”
The officer started:
“You say that he attacked you, M. Marambot?”
The bewildered druggist answered:
“Yes--but I did not tell on him--I haven't said a word--I swear it--he
has served me excellently from that time on--”
The officer pronounced severely:
“I will take down your testimony. The law will take notice of this new
action, of which it was ignorant, Monsieur Marambot. I was commissioned
to arrest your servant for the theft of two ducks surreptitiously taken
by him from M. Duhamel of which act there are witnesses. I shall make a
note of your information.”
Then, turning toward his men, he ordered:
“Come on, bring him along!”
The two gendarmes dragged Denis out.
The lawyer used a plea of insanity, contrasting the two misdeeds in
order to strengthen his argument. He had clearly proved that the theft
of the two ducks came from the same mental condition as the eight
knife-wounds in the body of Maramlot. He had cunningly analyzed all the
phases of this transitory condition of mental aberration, which
could, doubtless, be cured by a few months' treatment in a reputable
sanatorium. He had spoken in enthusiastic terms of the continued
devotion of this faithful servant, of the care with which he had
surrounded his master, wounded by him in a moment of alienation.
Touched by this memory, M. Marambot felt the tears rising to his eyes.
The lawyer noticed it, opened his arms with a broad gesture, spreading
out the long black sleeves of his robe like the wings of a bat, and
exclaimed:
“Look, look, gentleman of the jury, look at those tears. What more can
I say for my client? What speech, what argument, what reasoning would
be worth these tears of his master? They, speak louder than I do, louder
than the law; they cry: 'Mercy, for the poor wandering mind of a while
ago! They implore, they pardon, they bless!”
He was silent and sat down.
Then the judge, turning to Marambot, whose testimony had been excellent
for his servant, asked him:
“But, monsieur, even admitting that you consider this man insane, that
does not explain why you should have kept him. He was none the less
dangerous.”
Marambot, wiping his eyes, answered:
“Well, your honor, what can you expect? Nowadays it's so hard to find
good servants--I could never have found a better one.”
Denis was acquitted and put in a sanatorium at his master's expense.