“Ah!” he said, “if M. de Margeril could give us a lift! But he is not
easily approached.”
“We might send Boiscoran to see him, at least. Since he remained
in Paris for the purpose of assisting us there, now he will have an
opportunity. I will write to him to-night.”
Since the name of Margeril had been mentioned, the marchioness had
become, if possible, paler than ever. At the old gentleman’s last words
she rose, and said anxiously,--
“Do not write, sir: it would be useless. I do not wish it.”
Her embarrassment was so evident, that the others were quite surprised.
“Have Boiscoran and M. de Margeril had any difficulty?” asked M. de
Chandore.
“Yes.”
“But,” cried Dionysia, “it is a matter of life and death for Jacques.”
Alas! The poor woman could not speak of the suspicions which had
darkened the whole life of the Marquis de Boiscoran, nor of the
cruel penalty which the wife was now called upon to pay for a slight
imprudence.
“If it is absolutely necessary,” she said with a half-stifled voice,
“if that is our very last hope, then I will go and see M. de Margeril
myself.”
M. Folgat was the only one who suspected what painful antecedents there
might be in the life of the marchioness, and how she was harassed by
their memory now. He interposed, therefore, saying,--
“At all events, my advice is to await the end of the preliminary
investigation. I may be mistaken, however, and, before any answer is
sent to M. Jacques, I desire that the lawyer to whom he alludes should
be consulted.”
“That is certainly the wisest plan,” said M. de Chandore. And, ringing
for a servant, he sent him at once to M. Magloire, to ask him to call
after dinner. Jacques de Boiscoran had chosen wisely. M. Magloire was
looked upon in Sauveterre as the most eloquent and most skilful lawyer,
not only of the district, but of the whole province. And what is rarer
still, and far more glorious, he had, besides, the reputation of being
unsurpassed in integrity and a high sense of honor. It was well known
that he would never have consented to plead a doubtful cause; and they
told of him a number of heroic stories, in which he had thrown clients
out of the window, who had been so ill-advised to come to him, money in
hand, to ask him to undertake an unclean case. He was naturally not
a rich man, and preserved, at fifty-four or five, all the habits of a
frugal and thrifty young man.
After having married quite young, M. Magloire had lost his wife after a
few months, and had never recovered from the loss. Although thirty years
old, the wound had never healed; and regularly, on certain days, he was
seen wending his way to the cemetery, to place flowers on a modest grave
there. Any other man would have been laughed at for such a thing at
Sauveterre; but with him they dared not do so, for they all respected
him highly. Young and old knew and reverenced the tall man with the
calm, serene face, the clear, bright eyes, and the eloquent lips, which,
in their well-cut, delicate lines, by turns glowed with scorn, with
tenderness, or with disdain.
Like Dr. Seignebos, M. Magloire also was a Republican; and, at the last
Imperial elections, the Bonapartists had had the greatest trouble, aided
though they were by the whole influence of the government, and shrinking
from no unfair means, to keep him out of the Chamber. Nor would
they have been successful after all, but for the influence of Count
Claudieuse, who had prevailed upon a number of electors to abstain from
voting.
This was the man, who, towards nine o’clock, presented himself, upon
the invitation of M. de Chandore, at his house, where he was anxiously
expected by all the inmates. His greeting was affectionate, but at the
same time so sad, that it touched Dionysia’s heart most painfully. She
thought she saw that M. Magloire was not far from believing Jacques
guilty.
And she was not mistaken; for M. Magloire let them see it clearly, in
the most delicate manner, to be sure, but still so as to leave no doubt.
He had spent the day in court, and there had heard the opinions of the
members of the court, which was by no means favorable to the accused.
Under such circumstances, it would have evidently been a grave blunder
to yield to Jacques’s wishes, and to apply for a change of venue from M.
Galpin to some other magistrate.
“The investigation will last a year,” cried Dionysia, “since M. Galpin
is determined to obtain from Jacques the confession of a crime which he
has not committed.”