“After leaving M. Gransiere, I went to the court-house, and there I
head the great piece of news which has set all the town agog. Count
Claudieuse is dead.”
M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin looked at each other, and exclaimed in the
same breath,--
“Great God! Is that so?”
“He breathed his last this morning, at two or three minutes before six
o’clock. I saw his body in the private room of the attorney-general.
The priest from Brechy was there, and two other priests from his parish.
They were waiting for a bier to have him carried to his house.”
“Poor man!” murmured M. Daubigeon.
“But I heard a great deal more,” Mechinet said, “from the watchman who
was on guard last night. He told me that when the trial was over, and
it became known that Count Claudieuse was likely to die, the priest
from Brechy came there, and asked to be allowed to offer him the last
consolations of his church. The countess refused to let him come to the
bedside of her husband. The watchman was amazed at this; and just then
Miss Chandore suddenly appeared, and sent word to the countess that she
wanted to speak to her.”
“Is it possible?”
“Quite certain. They remained together for more than a quarter of
an hour. What did they say? The watchman told me he was dying with
curiosity to know; but he could hear nothing, because there was the
priest from Brechy, all the while, kneeling before the door, and
praying. When they parted, they looked terribly excited. Then the
countess immediately called in the priest, and he stayed with the count
till he died.”
M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin had not yet recovered from their amazement at
this account, when somebody knocked timidly at the door.
“Come in!” cried Mechinet.
The door opened, and the sergeant of gendarmes appeared.
“I have been sent here by the attorney-general,” he said; “and the
servant told me you were up here. We have just caught Trumence.”
“That man who had escaped from jail?”
“Yes. We were about to carry him back there, when he told us that he
had a secret to reveal, a very important, urgent secret, concerning the
condemned prisoner, Boiscoran.”
“Trumence?”
“Yes. Then we carried him to the court-house, and I came for orders.”
“Run and say that I am coming to see him!” cried M. Daubigeon. “Make
haste! I am coming after you.”
But the gendarme, a model of obedience, had not waited so long: he was
already down stairs.
“I must leave you, Galpin,” said M. Daubigeon, very much excited. “You
heard what the man said. We must know what that means at once.”
But the magistrate was not less excited.
“You permit me to accompany you, I hope?” he asked.
He had a right to do so.
“Certainly,” replied the commonwealth attorney. “But make haste!”
The recommendation was not needed. M. Galpin had already put on his
boots. He now slipped his overcoat over his home dress, as he was; and
off they went.
Mechinet followed the two gentlemen as they hastened down the street;
and the good people of Sauveterre, always on the lookout, were not a
little scandalized at seeing their well-known magistrate, M. Galpin, in
his home costume,--he who generally was most scrupulously precise in his
dress.