[Special Correspondence of the Independent.]
Whence this unusual commotion, this uproar, this great excitement, in
our peaceful city? Whence these gatherings of our public squares, these
groups in front of all the houses! Whence this restlessness on all
faces, this anxiety in all eyes?
The reason is, that to-day this terrible Valpinson case will be brought
up in court, after having for so many weeks now agitated our people.
To-day this man who is charged with such fearful crimes is to be tried.
Hence all steps are eagerly turned towards the court-house: the people
all hurry, and rush in the same direction.
The court-house! Long before daylight it was surrounded by an eager
multitude, which the constables and the gendarmes could only with
difficulty keep within bounds.
They press and crowd and push. Coarse words fly to and fro. From words
they pass to gestures, from gestures to blows. A row is imminent. Women
cry, men swear, and two peasants from Brechy are arrested on the spot.
It is well known that there will be few only, happy enough to get in.
The great square would not contain all these curious people, who have
gathered here from all parts of the district: how should the court-room
be able to hold them?
And still our authorities, always anxious to please their constituents,
who have bestowed their confidence upon them, have resorted to heroic
measures. They have had two partition walls taken down, so that a part
of the great hall is added to the court-room proper.
M. Lautier, the city architect, who is a good judge in such matters,
assures us that this immense hall will accommodate twelve hundred
persons.
But what are twelve hundred persons?
Long before the hour fixed for the opening of the court, every thing is
full to overflowing. A pin might be thrown into the room, and it could
not fall to the ground.
Not an inch of space is lost. All around, along the wall men are
standing in close ranks. On both sides of the platform, chairs have been
put, which are occupied by a large number of our first ladies in good
society, not only of Sauveterre, however, but also of the neighborhood
and even other cites. Some of them appear in magnificent toilettes.
A thousand reports are current, a thousand conjectures are formed, which
we shall take care not to report. Why should we? Let us say, however,
that the accused has not availed himself of his right to reject a
certain number of jurymen. He has accepted all the names which were
drawn by lot, and which the prosecuting attorney did not object to.
We obtained this information from an attorney, a friend of ours; and,
just as he had told us all about it, a great noise rose at the door,
which was followed by rapid moving of chairs, and half-smothered
exclamations.
It was the family of the accused, who had come in, and now occupied the
seats assigned them close by the platform.
The Marquis de Boiscoran had on his arm Miss Chandore, who wore with
great grace and dignity a dark gray dress, trimmed with cherry-colored
ribbons. M. de Chandore escorted the Marchioness de Boiscoran. The
marquis and the baron looked cold and reserved. The mother of the
accused appears utterly overcome. Miss Chandore, on the contrary, is
lively, does not seem in the least concerned, and returns with a
bright smile the few greetings she receives from various parts of the
court-room.
But soon they are no longer an object of curiosity.
The attention of all is now directed towards a large table standing
before the judges, and on which may be seen a number of articles covered
by large red cloth.
These are the articles to be used in evidence.
In the meantime it strikes eleven o’clock. The sheriff’s officers move
about the room, seeing that every thing is in order.
Then a small door opens on the left, and the counsel for the defence
enter.
Our readers know who they are. One is M. Magloire, the ornament of our
bar; the other, an advocate from the capital, M. Folgat, quite young,
but already famous.
M. Magloire looks as he does on his best days, and smilingly converses
with the mayor of Sauveterre; while M. Folgat opens his blue bag, and
consults his papers.
Half-past eleven!