“Let the witnesses come in, but one by one.”
The first who entered was the only son of a well-to-do farmer in
the village of Brechy, called Ribot. He was a young fellow of about
twenty-five, broad-shouldered, with a very small head, a low brow, and
formidable crimson ears. For twenty miles all around, he was reputed to
be an irresistible beau,--a reputation of which he was very proud.
After having asked him his name, his first names, and his age, M. Galpin
said,--
“What do you know?”
The young man straightened himself, and with a marvellously conceited
air, which set all the peasants a-laughing, he replied,--
“I was out that night on some little private business of my own. I was
on the other side of the chateau of Boiscoran. Somebody was waiting for
me, and I was behind time: so I cut right across the marsh. I knew the
rains of the last days would have filled all the ditches; but, when a
man is out on such important business as mine was, he can always find
his way”--
“Spare us those tedious details,” said the magistrate coldly. The
handsome fellow looked surprised, rather than offended, by the
interruption, and then went on,--
“As your Honor desires. Well, it was about eight o’clock, or a little
more, and it was growing dark, when I reached the Seille swamps. They
were overflowing; and the water was two inches above the stones of
the canal. I asked myself how I should get across without spoiling my
clothes, when I saw M. de Boiscoran coming towards me from the other
side.”
“Are you quite sure it was he?”
“Why, I should think so! I talked to him. But stop, he was not afraid of
getting wet. Without much ado, he rolled up his trousers, stuffed them
into the tops of his tall boots, and went right through. Just then he
saw me, and seemed to be surprised. I was as much so as he was. ‘Why,
is it you, sir?’ I said. He replied ‘Yes: I have to see somebody at
Brechy.’ That was very probably so; still I said again, ‘But you
have chosen a queer way.’ He laughed. ‘I did not know the swamps were
overflowed,’ he answered, ‘and I thought I would shoot some snipes.’ As
he said this, he showed me his gun. At that moment I had nothing to say;
but now, when I think it over, it looks queer to me.”
M. Galpin had written down the statement as fast as it was given. Then
he asked,--
“How was M. de Boiscoran dressed?”
“Stop. He had grayish trousers on, a shooting-jacket of brown velveteen,
and a broad-brimmed panama hat.”
The count and the countess looked distressed and almost overcome; nor
did the mayor and his friend seem to be less troubled. One circumstance
in Ribot’s evidence seemed to have struck them with peculiar force,--the
fact that he had seen M. de Boiscoran push his trousers inside his
boots.
“You can go,” said M. Galpin to the young man. “Let another witness come
in.”
The next one was an old man of bad reputation, who lived alone in an old
hut two miles from Valpinson. He was called Father Gaudry. Unlike young
Ribot, who had shown great assurance, the old man looked humble and
cringing in his dirty, ill-smelling rags. After having given his name,
he said,--
“It might have been eleven o’clock at night, and I was going through the
forest of Rochepommier, along one of the little by-paths”--
“You were stealing wood!” said the magistrate sternly.
“Great God, what an idea!” cried the old man, raising his hands to
heaven. “How can you say such a thing! I steal wood! No, my dear sir,
I was very quietly going to sleep in the forest, so as to be up
with daylight, and gather champignons and other mushrooms to sell at
Sauveterre. Well, I was trotting along, when, all of a sudden, I hear
footsteps behind me. Naturally, I was frightened.”
“Because you were stealing!”
“Oh, no! my dear sir; only, at night, you understand. Well, I hid behind
a tree; and almost at the same moment I saw M. de Boiscoran pass by. I
recognized him perfectly in spite of the dark; for he seemed to be in
a great rage, talked loud to himself, swore, gesticulated, and tore
handfuls of leaves from the branches.”
“Did he have a gun?”
“Yes, my dear sir; for that was the very thing that frightened me so. I
thought he was a keeper.”
The third and last witness was a good old woman, Mrs. Courtois, whose
little farm lay on the other side of the forest of Rochepommier. When
she was asked, she hesitated a moment, and then she said,--
“I do not know much; but I will tell you all I do know. As we expected
to have a house full of workmen a few days hence, and as I was going to
bake bread to-morrow, I was going with my ass to the mill on Sauveterre
Mountain to fetch flour. The miller had not any ready; but he told me,
if I could wait, he would let me have some: and so I staid to supper.
About ten o’clock, they gave me a bag full of flour. The boys put it
on my ass, and I went home. I was about half-way, and it was, perhaps,
eleven o’clock, when, just at the edge of the forest of Rochepommier, my
ass stumbled, and the bag fell off. I had a great deal of trouble, for I
was not strong enough to lift it alone; and just then a man came out
of the woods, quite near me. I called to him, and he came. It was M. de
Boiscoran: I ask him to help me; and at once, without losing a moment,
he puts his gun down, lifts the bag from the ground, and puts it on my
ass. I thank him. He says, ‘Welcome,’ and--that is all.”
The mayor had been all this time standing in the door of the chamber,
performing the humble duty of a doorkeeper, and barring the entrance to
the eager and curious crowd outside. When Mrs. Courtois retired, quite
bewildered by her own words, and regretting what she had said, he called
out,--
“Is there any one else who knows any thing?”