THE WIDOW JOSEPH GIVES EVIDENCE RESPECTING
A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR
The appearance of this woman was looked forward to by the spectators
with lively curiosity, and her evidence was listened to with deep
attention.
"Your name is Joseph?"
"That was my husband's first name. While he lived I was known as
Mistress Joseph; since his death I have been called the Widow Joseph."
"The poor child, Madeline, and her companion, Pauline, lived in your
house?"
"Yes, from the first day they came into this part of the country. 'We
have come a great distance,' said Pauline to me, 'and want a room to
sleep in.' I showed her the room, and said it would be twelve francs a
month. She paid me twelve francs, and remained with me till she left
to go on a journey."
"Did you ask her where she came from?"
"Yes; and she answered that it was of no consequence."
"Did she pay the rent regularly?"
"Yes; and always without being asked for it."
"Did she tell you she was poor?"
"She said she had but little money."
"Did they have any settled plan of gaining a livelihood?"
"I do not think they had at first. Pauline asked me whether I thought
it likely they could earn a living by selling flowers. I looked at
Madeline, and said that I thought they were certain to do well."
"You looked at Madeline. Why?"
"She was a very pretty girl."
"And you thought, because she was very pretty, that she would have a
greater chance of disposing of her flowers."
"Yes. Gentlemen like to buy of pretty girls."
"That is not said to Madeline's disparagement?"
"No. Madeline was a good girl. She was full of gaiety, but it was
innocent gaiety."
"What were your impressions of them? As to their social position? Did
you believe them to be humbly born?"
"Pauline certainly; she was a peasant the same as myself. But there
was something superior about Madeline which puzzled me."
"How? In what way?"
"It was only an impression. Yet there were signs. Pauline's hands were
hard and coarse; and from remarks she made from time to time I knew
that she was peasant-born. Madeline's hands were soft and delicate,
and she had not been accustomed to toil, which all peasants are, from
their infancy almost."
"From this do you infer that they were not related to each other?"
"I am sure they were related to each other. Perhaps few had the
opportunities of judging as well as I could. When they were in a quiet
mood I have seen expressions upon their faces so exactly alike as to
leave no doubt that they were closely related."
"Sisters?"
"I cannot say."
"Or mother and daughter?"
"I wish to tell everything I know, but to say nothing that might be
turned into a reproach against them."
"We have every confidence in you. Judgment can be formed from the
bearing of persons towards each other. Pauline loved Madeline?"
"Devotedly."
"There is a distinctive quality in the attachment of a loving mother
for her child which can scarcely be mistaken; it is far different, in
certain visible manifestations--especially on occasions where there is
any slight disagreement--between sisters. Distinctive, also, is the
tenderness which accompanies the exercise of a mother's authority.
Bearing this in mind, and recalling to the best of your ability those
particulars of their intercourse which came within your cognisance,
which hypothesis would you be the more ready to believe--that they
were sisters or mother and child?"
"That they were mother and child."
"We recognise your anxiety to assist us. Pauline's hands, you say,
were coarse, while Madeline's were soft and delicate. Ordinarily, a
peasant woman brings up her child as a peasant, with no false notions;
in this instance, however, Pauline brought Madeline up with some idea
that the young girl was superior to her own station in life. Else why
the unusual care of the child? Supposing this line of argument to be
correct, it appears not to be likely that the attentions of a man like
Gautran would be encouraged."
"They were not encouraged."
"Do you know that they were not encouraged from statements made to you
by Pauline and Madeline?"
"Yes."
"Then Gautran's declaration that he was Madeline's accepted lover is
false?"
"Quite false."
"He speaks falsely when he says that Madeline promised to marry him?"
"It is impossible."
"Four nights before Madeline met her death, was Gautran outside your
house?"
"Yes; he was prowling about there with his evil face, for a long
time."
"Did you go to him, and ask him what he wanted?"
"Yes."
"Did he tell you that he must see Madeline?"
"Yes, and I went into the house, and informed the girl. She said she
would not see him, and I went down to Gautran and told him so. He then
tried to force himself into the house, and I stood in his way. He
struck me, and Madeline, frightened by my cries, ran to the door, and
begged him to go away."
"It is a fact that he was often seen in Madeline's company?"
"Yes; do what they would, they could not get rid of him; and they were
frightened, if they angered him too much, that he would commit an act
of violence."
"As he did?"
"As he did. It is written on Madeline's grave."
"Had the poor girl any other lovers?"
"None that I should call lovers. But she was greatly admired."
"Was any one of these lovers especially favoured?"
"Not that I knew of."
"Did any of them visit the house?"
"No--but may I speak?"
"Certainly."
"It was not what I should call a visit. A gentleman came once to the
door, and before I could get there, Pauline was with him. All that I
heard was this: 'It is useless,' Pauline said to him; 'I will not
allow you to see her, and if you persecute us with your attentions I
will appeal for help to those who will teach you a lesson.' 'What is
your objection to me?' he asked, and he was smiling all the time he
spoke. 'Am I not a gentleman?' 'Yes,' she answered; 'and it is because
of that, that I will not permit you to address her. Gentlemen! I have
had enough of gentlemen!' 'You are a foolish woman,' he said, and he
went away. That is all, and that is the only time--except when I saw
Pauline in conversation with a man. He might have been a gentleman,
but his clothes were not the clothes of one; neither were they the
clothes of a peasant. They were conversing at a little distance from
the house. I did not hear what they said, not a word, and half an hour
afterwards Pauline came home. There was a look on her face such as I
had never observed--a look of triumph and doubt. But she made no
remark to me, nor I to her."
"Where was Madeline at this time?"
"In the house."
"Did you see this man again?"
"A second time, two evenings after. A third time, within the same
week. He and Pauline spoke together very earnestly, and when anyone
approached them always moved out of hearing. During the second week he
came to the house, and inquired for Pauline. She ran downstairs and
accompanied him into the open road. This occurred to my knowledge five
or six times, until Pauline said to me, 'To-morrow I am going on a
journey. Before long I may be able to reward you well for the kindness
you have shown us.' The following day she left, and I have not seen
her since."
"Did she say how long she would be likely to be away?"
"I understood not longer than three weeks."
"That time has passed, and still she does not appear. Since she left,
have you seen the man who was so frequently with her?"
"No."
"He has not been to the house to make inquiries?"
"No."
"Is it not possible that he may have been Pauline's lover?"
"There was nothing of the lover in his manner towards her."
"There was, however, some secret between them?"
"Evidently."
"And Madeline--was she acquainted with it?"
"It is impossible to say."
"You have no reason to suppose, when Pauline went away, that she had
no intention of returning?"
"I am positive she intended to return."
"And with good news, for she promised to reward you for your
kindness?"
"Yes, she did so."
"Is it not probable that she, also, may have met with foul play?"
"It is probable; but Heaven alone knows!"