At the same hour when the magistrate left the hospital, Dr. Seignebos
and M. Folgat parted, after a frugal breakfast,--the one to visit his
patients, the other to go to the prison. The young advocate was very
much troubled. He hung his head as he went down the street; and the
diplomatic citizens who compared his dejected appearance with the
victorious air of M. Galpin came to the conclusion that Jacques de
Boiscoran was irrevocably lost.
At that moment M. Folgat was almost of their opinion. He had to pass
through one of those attacks of discouragement, to which the most
energetic men succumb at times, when they are bent upon pursuing an
uncertain end which they ardently desire.
The declarations made by little Martha and the governess had literally
overwhelmed him. Just when he thought he had the end of the thread in
his hand, the tangle had become worse than ever. And so it had been from
the commencement. At every step he took, the problem had become more
complicated than ever. At every effort he made, the darkness, instead of
being dispelled, had become deeper. Not that he as yet doubted Jacques’s
innocence. No! The suspicion which for a moment had flashed through his
mind had passed away instantly. He admitted, with Dr. Seignebos, the
possibility that there was an accomplice, and that it was Cocoleu, in
all probability, who had been charged with the execution of the crime.
But how could that fact be made useful to the defence? He saw no way.
Goudar was an able man; and the manner in which he had introduced
himself into the hospital and Cocoleu’s company indicated a master. But
however cunning he was, however experienced in all the tricks of his
profession, how could he ever hope to make a man confess who intrenched
himself behind the rampart of feigned imbecility? If he had only had an
abundance of time before him! But the days were counted, and he would
have to hurry his measures.
“I feel like giving it up,” thought the young lawyer.
In the meantime he had reached the prison. He felt the necessity of
concealing his anxiety. While Blangin went before him through the long
passages, rattling his keys, he endeavored to give to his features an
expression of hopeful confidence.
“At last you come!” cried Jacques.
He had evidently suffered terribly since the day before. A feverish
restlessness had disordered his features, and reddened his eyes. He was
shaking with nervous tremor. Still he waited till the jailer had shut
the door; and then he asked hoarsely,--
“What did she say?”
M. Folgat gave him a minute account of his mission, quoting the words of
the countess almost literally.
“That is just like her!” exclaimed the prisoner. “I think I can hear
her! What a woman! To defy me in this way!”
And in his anger he wrung his hands till they nearly bled.
“You see,” said the young advocate, “there is no use in trying to get
outside of our circle of defence. Any new effort would be useless.”
“No!” replied Jacques. “No, I shall not stop there!”
And after a few moments’ reflection,--if he can be said to have been
able to reflect,--he said,--
“I hope you will pardon me, my dear sir, for having exposed you to such
insults. I ought to have foreseen it, or, rather, I did foresee it. I
knew that was not the way to begin the battle. But I was a coward, I
was afraid, I drew back, fool that I was! As if I had not known that we
shall at any rate have to come to the last extremity! Well, I am ready
now, and I shall do it!”
“What do you mean to do?”
“I shall go and see the Countess Claudieuse. I shall tell her”--
“Oh!”
“You do not think she will deny it to my face? When I once have her
under my eye, I shall make her confess the crime of which I am accused.”
M. Folgat had promised Dr. Seignebos not to mention what Martha and her
governess had said; but he felt no longer bound to conceal it.
“And if the countess should not be guilty?” he asked.
“Who, then, could be guilty?”
“If she had an accomplice?”
“Well, she will tell me who it is. I will insist upon it, I will make
her tell. I will not be disgraced. I am innocent, I will not go to the
galleys!”
To try and make Jacques listen to reason would have been madness just
now.
“Have a care,” said the young lawyer. “Our defence is difficult enough
already; do not make it still more so.”
“I shall be careful.”
“A scene might ruin us irrevocably.”
“Be not afraid!”
M. Folgat said nothing more. He thought he could guess by what means
Jacques would try to get out of prison. But he did not ask him about
the details, because his position as his counsel made it his duty not to
know, or, at least, to seem not to know, certain things.
“Now, my dear sir,” said the prisoner, “you will render me a service,
will you not?”
“What is it?”
“I want to know as accurately as possible how the house in which the
countess lives is arranged.”
Without saying a word, M. Folgat took out a sheet of paper, and drew
on it a plan of the house, as far as he knew,--of the garden, the
entrance-hall, and the sitting-room.
“And the count’s room,” asked Jacques, “where is that?”
“In the upper story.”
“You are sure he cannot get up?”
“Dr. Seignebos told me so.”
The prisoner seemed to be delighted.
“Then all is right,” he said, “and I have only to ask you, my dear
counsel, to tell Miss Dionysia that I must see her to-day, as soon as
possible. I wish her to come accompanied by one of her aunts only. And,
I beseech you, make haste.”
M. Folgat did hasten; so that, twenty minutes later, he was at the young
lady’s house. She was in her chamber. He sent word to her that he wished
to see her; and, as soon as she heard that Jacques wanted her, she said
simply,--
“I am ready to go.”