THE VERDICT
Eloquent and earnest as had been Raymond's impassioned outburst it
hardly moved the throng as did the woman's short and broken confession.
In the hearts of all men and women who are worthy of the name there
is ever pity for a fallen woman; but in this case there was something
more than that. Pity for the wrecks of vice is often tempered by the
instinctive feeling that the lost are mercifully drugged by their own
excesses until they are incapable of realizing fully that they have
fallen beyond the reach of redemption.
But here there was none of that. In that prayer for her son, every
mother in the room heard a mother crying out to her across an
unbridgeable gulf--every man knew that the woman's soul was writhing
under the torture of seeing herself as she was; and the soft weeping
and the pressed lips and shining eyes were eloquent of their emotion.
Even the old President felt the spell, and it was with an effort that
he took his eyes off the bowed figure with Raymond bending over it
and turned to address the jury. At his first words--delivered tin a
matter-of-fact "legal" tone--a rustle and stir ran over the benches. It
was over.
"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "you have to answer this question:
Is the prisoner guilty of the murder committed on April 3d, on the
body of her lover, Frederick Laroque? If the majority of you believe
that the prisoner is guilty or not guilty, your verdict will be worded
accordingly.
"If the majority of you believe, on the other hand, that there are
extenuating circumstances, you are to give your verdict in these words:
"'The majority of the jurors believe that there are extenuating
circumstances in favor of the prisoner.'
"I point out to you that your vote must be a secret one. Kindly
withdraw to the jury-room. The court is rising!"
As he spoke he rose, accompanied by the ether' judges and moved toward
the door of his private room, opening off the "bank." The usher pounded
his desk.
"The court is rising!" he repeated in a loud tone. With the shuffling
of many feet the throng rose and the hum of conversation filled the
room. Escorted by two gendarmes, Jacqueline was taken out to the
prisoner's room to await the verdict.
Floriot, walking like a drunken man, went out with M. Valmorin to the
latter's little office. Noel tried to reach him, but he disappeared
before he could cross the court. Dr. Chennel followed him and Raymond
suddenly stopped them, returning from the door of the prisoner's room,
where he had accompanied the woman.
The big hall was practically deserted. Helene had quickly recovered
from her emotion in her pride in Raymond, but Rose wept inconsolably,
and the girl led her out to the open air.
Raymond eagerly seized the hands of his father's friends.
"Do you think she will get off, doctor?" he asked, quickly.
"I hope so," responded the surgeon with an affectionate smile; "and if
she does, she may I thank you, my boy!"
"Is that so?" he exclaimed, with a pleased little laugh and nervous
toss of his head. "I thought I was awfully bad!"
"And I thought you were marvelous!" rejoined Noel, with unmistakable
meaning. He was looking curiously at the young man's flushed and
handsome face.
"Oh, come now!" protested Raymond.
"I mean it. You reached me--and not only me!" he added half to himself.
Raymond shook his hand with hearty gratitude.
"It's awfully good of you to tell me these things," he said, "and I'm
mighty proud of one thing! Do you know that I made my father cry? I
did, for a fact! 'The Man of Bronze,' some one told me they call him! I
managed to glance at him a couple of times, and I'm sure he was crying!
"Now, that's a success, you know! For a young fellow like me to make
the presiding judge of another criminal court cry over his first speech
is pretty good, whether the young lawyer is the judge's son or not!
"My, but I was nervous! That poor woman completely upset me. You
remember when she called out and nearly fainted?"
The others nodded.
"Yes," said Noel. "You turned around and looked up and spoke to her, I
think."
"Exactly!" Raymond rattled on, excitedly. "I put my hand on the edge of
the rail and she took hold of it, and pressed it, and--do you know,
I forgot all about my speech, and everything else? It's a fact! She
looked at me in the most extraordinary way!"
He paused a moment and then went on soberly, with a vague, puzzled look
in his dark eyes.
"She drew me toward her, somehow. I don't know how to explain it to
you. I wanted to take her in my arms and console her and kiss her--yes,
kiss her! Kind of foolish, eh?" he added, with a quick smile. "Queer
sort of a lawyer who'd want to kiss his clients, isn't it? But I swear
that's what I did want! It was one of the most extraordinary sensations
I have ever felt, and it upset me so that I caught myself talking for a
full minute without knowing what I was saying. Luckily, I sort of got
hold of myself, and--and--I'm almighty glad it's all over. Ah, here
comes the President of the Toulouse court!"
His few minutes in M. Valmorin's office had partially restored
Floriot's steel nerves. He took a drink of water and gently put aside
the prosecutor's solicitous questions, and then he hurried out to find
his son, knowing that the boy would feel hurt if he was not among the
first to congratulate him. But his white, lined face and haggard eyes
bore witness to the terrible suffering of the recent ordeal.
Raymond hastened forward a few steps to meet him.
"Thank you, my boy, thank you!" said Floriot unsteadily, as he gripped
his son's hand. "It was a noble speech!"
Then he dropped wearily into a chair. Raymond stared at him, startled.
"Why, is anything the matter, father?" he cried, stepping quickly over
to his side.
Floriot raised his hand as if to motion him away.
"No! Nothing, nothing!" he replied.
"I think Mademoiselle Valmorin wants to speak to you, Raymond,"
interrupted Noel, hurriedly. The young man threw a quick look up
toward the benches and saw that Helene had returned and was trying to
telegraph him with her eyes. A father's claims must always yield to
a lover's, and with a lingering glance at the figure in the chair,
Raymond hurried off to his sweetheart's, side.
Noel put his hand under Floriot's arm and drew him off to a corner by
the bench, where they were partially hidden, while Dr. Chennel did
sentry duty in the background.
"You recognized her, of course?" said Floriot, in a low broken voice,
without meeting his friend's eye.
Noel nodded, but did not speak.
"There's no doubt about it!" went on his friend. "It is Jacqueline, and
this is what she has become! This is my work! Jacqueline! Jacqueline!"
he groaned, piteously.
"What are you going to do?" demanded Noel. The effort to control
himself made his voice sound hard. Floriot shook his head miserably.
"I don't know!" he groaned. "What do you think?"
"It doesn't seem to me," retorted Noel, bitterly, "that this is exactly
a time for thinking! If she should be convicted, maybe it would be
better to let things take their natural course and never let Raymond
know who she was. But if she is acquitted, you will have to tell him,
and we will have to do what we can to--to--wipe out twenty years!"
Floriot's only reply for a moment was a dry sob. Then:
"How can I tell him--_now_! God!" he cried, "he will add his curses to
hers! I will lose him! I----"
The sharp clang of a bell broke in. Noel started, it was the signal
that the court was coming in.
"Already!" he exclaimed. "The jury didn't take long!" He hastily
gripped his friend's hand as the door of the President's room opened,
and pushed him toward his seat.
"Keep your heart, old man!" he added, kindly. "We'll come through all
right!"
Raymond brushed against him as he walked back to his seat. His ears
were singing with Helene's whispers.
"It's a good sign, isn't it?" he said in low, eager tones. Noel nodded
and passed outside the railing. The crowd was swarming in from both
doors, and by the time the judges had comfortably settled themselves
the hall was packed once more. The jury filed slowly into the box and
sat down. The usher rapped for silence. There was not a sound in the
court when the President solemnly commanded:
"Gentlemen of the jury, give your verdict!"
The foreman, a round-faced, dry-goods salesman, plainly oppressed by
the importance of his position, rose, and, with his right hand over his
heart, declared, in husky tones:
"On my honor and on my conscience, before God and before men, the
declaration of the jury is:
"No, the prisoner is not guilty!"
A gasp swept across the hall, and then the great throng burst into a
cheer. Men sprang up and slapped each other on the back, and women,
with tear-stained faces, frantically waved their limp handkerchiefs.
Rose gave Helene a convulsive hug, and it was returned with interest.
Sergeant Fontaine so far forgot his official reserve as to seize
Victor's hand and shake it with enthusiasm, while he twisted his
mustache violently with the other. Raymond was trying to combine the
dignity of an advocate with an expression of rapturous delight. The
usher hammered his desk and the gendarmes shouted for order. Only
Floriot sat with bowed head, and Noel watched him under the hand that
shaded his eyes. Evidently feeling that the shortest way was the
quickest, the President ordered the usher to bring in the prisoner.
As soon as the door opened and the woman walked slowly in between the
gendarmes, the din fell away to a tense hush. There was a spot of color
in her cheeks that had not been there before, and her eyes were wilder.
Dr. Chennel gazed at her with close scrutiny.
"She has a very high fever!" he whispered to Noel. The latter nodded,
without turning his head.
"Clerk of the court, read the declaration of the jury!" commanded the
President. The clerk, who had been busily writing out that document in
the form prescribed, rose with the paper in his hand and read, in a
droning monotone:
"The declaration of the jury is: No, the prisoner is not guilty. In
consequence whereof the court proclaims the prisoner's innocence of the
crime of which she is accused, orders her acquittal, and orders that
she be immediately set at liberty, unless there be other reason for her
detention. The court is risen!"
The last words were lost in a frightful shriek from the prisoner.
"_No! No! No_!" she screamed, struggling in the grip of the two guards
as she tried to throw herself out of the dock. "_Let me die! I want to,
die! I want to die!_"
In an instant the court was again in an uproar with oaths, cries of
anger, and shrieks of women. The crowd swept forward to the railing.
"Clear the court!" roared the President; and the gendarmes threw
themselves into the press, driving the packed men and women toward the
exits. The din was terrific, and above it all rose Jacqueline's screams.
"_I want to die! I want to die!_"
Raymond was the first to reach her, closely fol lowed by Dr. Chennel
and Noel, and then Floriot "_For God's sake_! _doctor! Help her_!" he
cried.