THE ARRIVAL OF THE ADVOCATE
Among those whom Madeline's beauty had attracted was a man in a common
way of life, Gautran, a woodman, who followed her with dogged
persistence. That his company was distasteful to this bright young
creature could not be doubted, but he was not to be shaken off, and
his ferocity of character deterred others from approaching the girl
when he was present. Many times had he been heard to say, "Madeline
belongs to me; let me see who is bold enough to dispute it." And again
and again that it would go hard with the man who stepped between him
and the girl he loved. Even Pauline was loth to anger him, and seemed
to stand in fear of him. This was singular enough, for when he and
Madeline were seen together, people would say, "There go the wolf and
the lamb."
This wretch it was who stood accused of the murder of the pretty
flower-girl.
Her body had been found in the River Rhone, with marks of violence
upon it, and a handkerchief tightly twisted round its neck. The proofs
of a cruel murder were incontestable, and suspicion fell immediately
upon Gautran, who was the last person known to be in Madeline's
company. Evidence of his guilt was soon forthcoming. He was madly,
brutally in love with her, and madly, brutally jealous of her. On the
night of the murder they had been seen walking together on the bank of
the river; Gautran had been heard to speak in a high tone, and his
exclamation, "I will kill you! I will kill you!" was sworn to by
witnesses; and the handkerchief round her neck belonged to him. A
thousand damning details were swiftly accumulated, all pointing to the
wretch's guilt, and it was well for him that he did not fall into the
hands of the populace. So incensed were they against him that they
would have torn him to pieces.
Not in all Geneva could there be found a man or a woman who, by the
holding up of a finger, would have besought mercy for him. Regret was
openly expressed that the death punishment for murder was not lawful,
some satisfaction, however, being derived from the reflection that in
times gone by certain heinous crimes had brought upon the criminals a
punishment more terrible than death.
"They should chain the monster by the waist," said a man, "so that he
cannot lie down, and can only move one step from the stake. Gautran
deserves worse than that."
But while he lay in prison, awaiting the day of trial, there arrived
in Geneva an Advocate of renown, who had travelled thither with his
wife in search of much needed repose from years of continuous mental
toil. This man was famous in many countries; he was an indefatigable
and earnest worker, and so important were his services deemed
that phenomenal fees were frequently paid to secure them. But
notwithstanding the exceeding value of his time he had been known to
refuse large sums of money in cases offered to him, in order to devote
himself to others which held out no prospect of pecuniary reward.
Wealthy, and held in almost exaggerated esteem, both for his abilities
and the cold purity of his life, it was confidently predicted that the
highest honours of the state were in store for him, and it was
ungrudgingly admitted--so far above his peers did he stand--that the
loftiest office would be dignified by association with his name. The
position he had attained was due as much to his intense enthusiasm in
the cause he championed as to his wondrous capacity for guiding it to
victory. As leader of a forlorn hope he was unrivalled. He had an
insatiable appetite for obstacles; criminal cases of great moment, in
which life and liberty were in imminent peril, and in which there was
a dark mystery to be solved, possessed an irresistible fascination for
him. Labour such as this was a labour of love, and afforded him the
keenest pleasure. The more intricate the task the closer his study of
it; the deeper the mystery the greater his patience in the unravelling
of it; the more powerful the odds against him the more determined his
exertions to win the battle. His microscopic, penetrating mind
detected the minutest flaw, seized the smallest detail likely to be of
advantage to him, and frequently from the most trivial thread he spun
a strand so strong as to drag the ship that was falling to pieces to a
safe and secure haven. His satisfaction at these achievements was
unbounded, but he rarely allowed an expression of exultation to escape
him. His outward tranquillity, even in supreme crises, was little less
than marvellous. His nerve was of iron, and to his most intimate
associates his inner life was a sealed book.
Accompanied by his wife, the Advocate entered Geneva, and alighted at
one of the principal hotels, four days before that on which the trial
of Gautran was to commence.