Like all very clever men, Dr. Seignebos made the mistake of thinking
other people as cunning as he was himself. M. Galpin was, of course,
watching him, but by no means with the energy which one would have
expected from so ambitious a man. He had, of course, been the first to
be notified that the case was to be tried in open court, and from that
moment he felt relieved of all anxiety.
As to remorse, he had none. He did not even regret any thing. He did not
think of it, that the prisoner who was thus to be tried had once been
his friend,--a friend of whom he was proud, whose hospitality he had
enjoyed, and whose favor he had eagerly sought in his matrimonial
aspirations. No. He only saw one thing,--that he had engaged in a
dangerous affair, on which his whole future was depending, and that he
was going to win triumphantly.
Evidently his responsibility was by no means gone; but his zeal in
preparing the case for trial was no longer required. He need not appear
at the trial. Whatever must be the result, he thought he should escape
the blame, which he should surely have incurred if no true bill had been
found. He did not disguise it from himself that he should be looked
at askance by all Sauveterre, that his social relations were well-nigh
broken off, and that no one would henceforth heartily shake hands with
him. But that gave him no concern. Sauveterre, a miserable little town
of five thousand inhabitants! He hoped with certainty he would not
remain there long; and a brilliant preferment would amply repay him for
his courage, and relieve him from all foolish reproaches.
Besides, once in the large city to which he would be promoted, he
could hope that distance would aid in attenuating and even effacing the
impression made by his conduct. All that would be remembered after
a time would be his reputation as one of those famous judges, who,
according to the stereotyped phrase, “sacrifice every thing to the
sacred interests of justice, who put inflexible duty high above all the
considerations that trouble and disturb the vulgar mind, and whose heart
is like a rock, against which all human passions are helplessly broken
to pieces.”
With such a reputation, with his knowledge of the world, and his
eagerness to succeed, opportunities would not be wanting to put himself
forward, to make himself known, to become useful, indispensable even. He
saw himself already on the highest rungs of the official ladder. He was
a judge in Bordeaux, in Lyons, in Paris itself!
With such rose-colored dreams he fell asleep at night. The next morning,
as he crossed the streets, his carriage haughtier and stiffer than ever,
his firmly-closed lips, and the cold and severe look of his eyes, told
the curious observers that there must be something new.
“M. de Boiscoran’s case must be very bad indeed,” they said, “or M.
Galpin would not look so very proud.”
He went first to the commonwealth attorney. The truth is, he was still
smarting under the severe reproaches of M. Daubigeon, and he thought he
would enjoy his revenge now. He found the old book-worm, as usual, among
his beloved books, and in worse humor than ever. He ignored it, handed
him a number of papers to sign; and when his business was over, and
while he was carefully replacing the documents in his bag with his
monogram on the outside, he added with an air of indifference,--
“Well, my dear sir, you have heard the decision of the court? Which of
us was right?”