“And that report is going to give you some trouble, my good man.”
The report was ready then, and his reason for not giving it in, was
that he thought, the longer he could delay it, the more chance he would
probably have to defeat the plan of the prosecution.
“As I mean to keep it two days longer,” he thought on his way home, “why
should I not show it to this Paris lawyer who has come down with the
marchioness? Nothing can prevent me, as far as I see, since that poor
Galpin, in his utter confusion, has forgotten to put me under oath.”
But he paused. According to the laws of medical jurisprudence, had he
the right, or not, to communicate a paper belonging to the case to the
counsel of the accused? This question troubled him; for, although
he boasted that he did not believe in God, he believed firmly in
professional duty, and would have allowed himself to be cut in pieces
rather than break its laws.
“But I have clearly the right to do so,” he growled. “I can only be
bound by my oath. The authorities are clear on that subject. I have in
my favor the decisions of the Court of Appeals of 27 November, and 27
December, 1828; those of the 13th June, 1835; of the 3d May, 1844; of
the 26th June, 1866.”
The result of this mediation was, that, as soon as he had breakfasted,
he put his report in his pocket, and went by side streets to M. de
Chandore’s house. The marchioness and the two aunts were still at
church, where they had thought it best to show themselves; and there was
no one in the sitting-room but Dionysia, the old baron, and M. Folgat.
The old gentleman was very much surprised to see the doctor. The latter
was his family physician, it is true; but, except in cases of sickness,
the two never saw each other, their political opinions were so very
different.
“If you see me here,” said the physician, still in the door, “it is
simply because, upon my honor and my conscience, I believe M. Boiscoran
is innocent.”
Dionysia would have liked to embrace the doctor for these words of his;
and with the greatest eagerness she pushed a large easy-chair towards
him, and said in her sweetest voice,--
“Pray sit down, my dear doctor.”
“Thanks,” he answered bruskly. “I am very much obliged to you.” Then
turning to M. Folgat, he said, according to his odd notion,--
“I am convinced that M. Boiscoran is the victim of his republican
opinions which he has so boldly professed; for, baron, your future
son-in-law is a republican.”
Grandpapa Chandore did not move. If they had come and told him Jacques
had been a member of the Commune, he would not have been any more moved.
Dionysia loved Jacques. That was enough for him.
“Well,” the doctor went on, “I am a Radical, I, M.”--
“Folgat,” supplied the young lawyer.
“Yes, M. Folgat, I am a Radical; and it is my duty to defend a man whose
political opinions so closely resemble mine. I come, therefore, to show
you my medical report, if you can make any use of it in your defence of
M. Boiscoran, or suggest to me any ideas.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the young man. “That is a very valuable service.”
“But let us understand each other,” said the physician earnestly. “If I
speak of listening to your suggestions, I take it for granted that they
are based upon facts. If I had a son, and he was to die on the scaffold
I would not use the slightest falsehood to save him.”
He had, meanwhile, drawn the report from a pocket in his long coat, and
now put in on the table with these words,--
“I shall call for it again to-morrow morning. In the meantime you can
think it over. I should like, however, to point out to you the main
point, the culminating point, if I may say so.”
At all events he was “saying so” with much hesitation, and looking
fixedly at Dionysia as if to make her understand that he would like her
to leave the room. Seeing that she did not take the hint, he added,--
“A medical and legal discussion would hardly interest the young lady.”
“Why, sir, why, should I not be deeply, passionately, interested in any
thing that regards the man who is to be my husband?”
“Because ladies are generally very sensational,” said the doctor
uncivilly, “very sensitive.”
“Don’t think so, doctor. For Jacques’s sake, I promise you I will show
you quite masculine energy.”
The doctor knew Dionysia well enough to see that she did not mean to go:
so he growled,--
“As you like it.”