“Yes, on a thread, thanks to M. Domini! whose weakness I cannot
comprehend, and who did not know at all, or who was not willing to know,
how to make the most of the evidence. But it was M. Gransiere’s fault
quite as much. What had he to do with politics to drag them into the
affair? And whom did he want to hit? No one else but M. Magloire, the
man whom everybody respects in the whole district, and who had three
warm personal friends among the jurymen. I foresaw it, and I told him
where he would get into trouble. But there are people who will not
listen. M. Gransiere wants to be elected himself. It is a fancy, a
monomania of our day: everybody wants to be a deputy. I wish Heaven
would confound all ambitious men!”
For the first time in his life, and no doubt for the last time also,
the commonwealth attorney rejoiced at the misfortune of others. Taking
savage pleasure in turning the dagger in his poor friend’s wounds, he
said,--
“No doubt M. Folgat’s speech had something to do with it.”
“Nothing at all.”
“He was brilliantly successful.”
“He took them by surprise. It was nothing but a big voice, and grand,
rolling sentences.”
“But still”--
“And what did he say, after all? That the prosecution did not know the
real secret of the case. That is absurd!”
“The new judges may not think so, however.”
“We shall see.”
“This time M. de Boiscoran’s defence will be very different. He will
spare nobody. He is down now, and cannot fall any lower.”
“That may be. But he also risks having a less indulgent jury, and not
getting off with twenty years.”
“What do his counsel say?”
“I do not know. But I have just sent my clerk to find out; and, if you
choose to wait”--
M. Daubigeon did wait, and he did well; for M. Mechinet came in very
soon after, with a long face for the world, but inwardly delighted.
“Well?” asked M. Galpin eagerly.