“But you, if you choose? Oh! do not look angry at me. We do not want to
have him arrested. All I want you to do is to hand him a letter from me,
and to bring me back his answer.”
“If that is all, then I am your man. Just give me time to change my
clothes, and to let father know, and I am off.”
Thus M. Folgat began, as far as in him lay, to prepare for future
action, trying to counteract all the cunning measures of the prosecution
by such combinations as were suggested to him by his experience and his
genius.
Did it follow from this, that his faith in ultimate success was strong
enough to make him speak of it to his most reliable friends, even, say
to Dr. Seignebos, to M. Magloire, or to good M. Mechinet?
No; for, bearing all the responsibility on his own shoulders, he had
carefully weighed the contrary chances of the terrible game in which he
proposed to engage, and in which the stakes were the honor and the life
of a man. He knew, better than anybody else, that a mere nothing might
destroy all his plans, and that Jacques’s fate was dependent on the most
trivial accident.
Like a great general on the eve of a battle, he managed to control his
feelings, affecting, for the benefit of others, a confidence which he
did not really feel, and allowing no feature of his face to betray the
great anxiety which generally kept him awake more than half the night.
And certainly it required a character of marvellous strength to remain
impassive and resolute under such circumstances.
Everybody around him was in despair, and gave up all hope.
The house of M. de Chandore, once so full of life and merriment, had
become as silent and sombre as a tomb.
The last two months had made of M. de Chandore an old man in good
earnest. His tall figure had begun to stoop, and he looked bent and
broken. He walked with difficulty, and his hands began to tremble.
The Marquis de Boiscoran had been hit even harder. He, who only a few
weeks before looked robust and hearty, now appeared almost decrepit. He
did not eat, so to say, and did not sleep. He became frightfully thin.
It gave him pain to utter a word.
As to the marchioness, the very sources of life seemed to have been
sapped within her. She had had to hear M. Magloire say that Jacques’s
safety would have been put beyond all doubt if they had succeeded in
obtaining a change of venue, or an adjournment of the trial. And it was
her fault that such a change had not been applied for. That thought was
death to her. She had hardly strength enough left to drag herself every
day as far as the jail to see her son.
The two Misses Lavarande had to bear all the practical difficulties
arising from this sore trial: they went and came, looking as pale as
ghosts, whispering in a low voice, and walking on tiptoe, as if there
had been a death in the house.
Dionysia alone showed greater energy as the troubles increased. She did
not indulge in much hope.
“I know Jacques will be condemned,” she said to M. Folgat. But she
said, also, that despair belonged to criminals only, and that the fatal
mistake for which Jacques was likely to suffer ought to inspire his
friends with nothing but indignation and thirst for vengeance.
And, while her grandfather and the Marquis de Boiscoran went out as
little as possible, she took pains to show herself in town, astonishing
the ladies “in good society” by the way in which she received their
false expressions of sympathy. But it was evident that she was only
held up by a kind of feverish excitement, which gave to her cheeks their
bright color, to her eyes their brilliancy, and to her voice its clear,
silvery ring. Ah! for her sake mainly, M. Folgat longed to end this
uncertainty which is so much more painful than the greatest misfortune.
The time was drawing near.
As Dr. Seignebos had announced, the president of the tribunal, M.
Domini, had already arrived in Sauveterre.
He was one of those men whose character is an honor to the bench, full
of the dignity of his profession, but not thinking himself infallible,
firm without useless rigor, cold and still kind-hearted, having no
other mistress but Justice, and knowing no other ambition but that of
establishing the truth.
He had examined Jacques, as he was bound to do; but the examination had
been, as it always is, a mere formality, and had led to no result.
The next step was the selection of a jury.
The jurymen had already begun to arrive from all parts of the
department. They lodged at the Hotel de France, where they took their
meals in common in the large back dining-room, which is always specially
reserved for their use.
In the afternoon one might see them, looking grave and thoughtful, take
a walk on the New-Market Square, or on the old ramparts.
M. Gransiere, also, had arrived. But he kept strictly in retirement
in his room at the Hotel de la Poste, where M. Galpin every day spent
several hours in close conference with him.
“It seems,” said Mechinet in confidence to M. Folgat,--“it seems they
are preparing an overwhelming charge.”
The day after, Dionysia opened “The Sauveterre Independent,” and found
in it an announcement of the cases set down for each day,--
MONDAY..... Fraudulent bankruptcy, defalcation, forgery.
TUESDAY.... Murder, theft.
WEDNESDAY.. Infanticide, domestic theft.
THURSDAY... Incendiarism, and attempted assassination
(case of M. de Boiscoran).
This was, therefore, the great day on which the good people of
Sauveterre expected to enjoy the most delightful emotions. Hence there
was an immense pressure brought to bear upon all the principal members
of the court to obtain tickets of admission. People who, the night
before, had refused to speak to M. Galpin, would stop him the next day
in the street, and beg him to give them a ticket, not for themselves,
but for “their lady.” Finally, the unheard-of fact became known,
that tickets were openly sold for money! One family had actually the
incomprehensible courage to write to the Marquis de Boiscoran for
three tickets, promising, in return, “by their attitude in court” to
contribute to the acquittal of the accused.
In the midst of all these rumors, the city was suddenly startled by
a list of subscriptions in behalf of the families of the unfortunate
firemen who had perished in the fire at Valpinson.
Who had started this paper? M. Seneschal tried in vain to discover the
hand that had struck this blow. The secret of this treacherous trick was
well kept. But it was a most atrocious trick to revive thus, on the eve
of the trial, such mournful memories and such bitter hatred.
“That man Galpin had a hand in it,” said Dr. Seignebos, grinding his
teeth. “And to think that he may, after all, be triumphant! Ah, why did
not Goudar commence his experiment a little sooner?”
For Goudar, while assuring everybody of certain success, asked for time.
To disarm the mistrust of an idiot like Cocoleu was not the work of a
day or a week. He declared, that, if he should be overhasty, he would
most assuredly ruin every thing.
Otherwise, nothing new occurred.
Count Claudieuse was getting rather better.
The agent in Jersey had telegraphed that he was on Suky’s track; that he
would certainly catch her, but that he could not say when.
Michael, finally, had in vain searched the whole district, and been all
over Oleron; no one had been able to give him any news of Trumence.
Thus, on the day when the session began, a council was held, in which
all of Jacques’s friends took part; and here it was resolved that his
counsel would not mention the name of the Countess Claudieuse, and
would, even if the count should offer to give evidence, adhere to the
plan of defence suggested by M. Folgat.
Alas! the chances of success seemed hourly to diminish; for the jury,
very much against the usual experience, appeared to be excessively
severe. The bankrupt was sentenced to twenty years’ hard labor. The
man accused of murder could not even obtain the plea of “extenuating
circumstances,” and was sentenced to death.
This was on Wednesday.
It was decided that M. de Chandore and the Marquis and the Marchioness
de Boiscoran should attend the trial. They wanted to spare Dionysia the
terrible excitement; but she declared that, in that case, she should
go alone to the court-house; and thus they were forced to submit to her
will.
Thanks to an order from M. Domini, M. Folgat and M. Magloire could spend
the evening with Jacques in order to determine all the details, and to
agree upon certain replies to be given.
Jacques looked excessively pale, but was quite composed. And when his
counsel left him, saying,--
“Keep up your courage and hope,” he replied,--
“Hope I have none; but courage--I assure you, I have courage!”