“What scene? What witness? That is what I wanted to hear from you, and
why I was waiting so impatiently for you,” said Dr. Seignebos to M.
Folgat. “I have seen and stated the results: now it is for you to give
me the cause.”
Nevertheless, he did not seem to be in the least surprised by what the
young advocate told him of Jacques’s desperate enterprise, and of the
tragic result. As soon as he had heard it all, he exclaimed,--
“I thought so: yes, upon my word! By racking my brains all night long,
I had very nearly guessed the whole story. And who, in Jacques’s place,
would not have been desirous to make one last effort? But certainly fate
is against him.”
“Who knows?” said M. Folgat. And, without giving the doctor time to
reply, he went on,--
“In what are our chances worse than they were before? In no way. We can
to-day, just as well as we could yesterday, lay our hands upon those
proofs which we know do exist, and which would save us. Who tells us
that at this moment Sir Francis Burnett and Suky Wood may not have been
found? Is your confidence in Goudar shaken?”
“Oh, as to that, not at all! I saw him this morning at the hospital,
when I paid my usual visit; and he found an opportunity to tell me that
he was almost certain of success.”
“Well?”
“I am persuaded Cocoleu will speak. But will he speak in time? That is
the question. Ah, if we had but a month’s time, I should say Jacques is
safe. But our hours are counted, you know. The court will be held
next week. I am told the presiding judge has already arrived, and M.
Gransiere has engaged rooms at the hotel. What do you mean to do if
nothing new occurs in the meantime?”
“M. Magloire and I will obstinately adhere to our plan of defence.”
“And if Count Claudieuse keeps his promise, and declares that he
recognized Jacques in the act of firing at him?”
“We shall say he is mistaken.”
“And Jacques will be condemned.”
“Well,” said the young advocate.
And lowering his voice, as if he did not wish to be overheard, he
added,--
“Only the sentence will not be a fatal sentence. Ah, do not interrupt
me, doctor, and upon your life, upon Jacques’s life, do not say a
word of what I am going to tell you. A suspicion which should cross
M. Galpin’s mind would destroy my last hope; for it would give him an
opportunity of correcting a blunder which he has committed, and which
justifies me in saying to you, ‘Even if the count should give evidence,
even if sentence should be passed, nothing would be lost yet.’”
He had become animated; and his accent and his gestures made you feel
that he was sure of himself.
“No,” he repeated, “nothing would be lost; and then we should have time
before us, while waiting for a second trial, to hunt up our witnesses,
and to force Cocoleu to tell the truth. Let the count say what he
chooses, I like it all the better: I shall thus be relieved of my last
scruples. It seemed to me odious to betray the countess, because I
thought the most cruelly punished would be the count. But, if the count
attacks us, we are on the defence; and public opinion will be on our
side. More than that, they will admire us for having sacrificed our
honor to a woman’s honor, and for having allowed ourselves to be
condemned rather than to give up the name of her who has given herself
to us.”
The physician did not seem to be convinced; but the young advocate paid
no attention. He went on,--
“No, our success in a second trial would be almost certain. The scene
in Mautrec Street has been seen by a witness: his iron-shod shoes have
left, as you say, their marks under the linden-trees nearest to the
parlor-window, and little Martha has watched his movements. Who can this
witness be unless it is Trumence? Well, we shall lay hands upon him. He
was standing so that he could see every thing, and hear every word.
He will tell what he saw and what he heard. He will tell how Count
Claudieuse called out to M. de Boiscoran, ‘No, I do not want to kill
you! I have a surer vengeance than that: you shall go to the galleys.’”