“Never mind,” he said, “we cannot possibly make an argument upon such
an uncertain chance,--a chance which, in case of error, would almost
fatally turn against us. But at the trial, when they show you the gun,
examine it, so that you can tell me how that matter stands.”
Thus they had sketched the outlines of their plan of defence. There
remained nothing now but to perfect the details; and to this task the
two lawyers were devoting themselves still, when Blangin, the jailer,
called to them through the wicket, that the doors of the prison were
about to be closed.
“Five minutes more, my good Blangin!” cried Jacques.
And drawing his two friends aside, as far from the wicket as he could,
he said to them in a low and distressed voice,--
“A thought has occurred to me, gentlemen, which I think I ought to
mention to you. It cannot be but that the Countess Claudieuse must be
suffering terribly since I am in prison. However, sure she may be of
having left no trace behind her that could betray her, she must tremble
at the idea that I may, after all, tell the truth in self-defence. She
would deny, I know, and she is so sure of her prestige, that she knows
my accusation would not injure her marvellous reputation. Nevertheless,
she cannot but shrink from the scandal. Who knows if she might not give
us the means to escape from the trial, to avoid such exposure? Why might
not one of you gentleman make the attempt?”