“Something very important must have happened. Just look at these
gentlemen!”
The fact was, they were walking so fast, that people might well wonder;
and they did not say a word all the way.
But, ere they reached the court-house, they were forced to stop; for
some four or five hundred people were filling the court, crowding on the
steps, and actually pressing against the doors.
Immediately all became silent; hats were raised; the crowd parted; and a
passage was opened.
On the porch appeared the priest from Brechy, and two other priests.
Behind them came attendants from the hospital, who bore a bier covered
with black cloth; and beneath the cloth the outlines of a human body
could be seen.
The women began to cry; and those who had room enough knelt down.
“Poor countess!” murmured one of them. “Here is her husband dead, and
they say one of her daughters is dying at home.”
But M. Daubigeon, the magistrate, and Mechinet were too preoccupied with
their own interests to think of stopping for more reliable news. The way
was open: they went in, and hastened to the clerk’s office, where the
gendarmes had taken Trumence, and now were guarding him.
He rose as soon as he recognized the gentlemen, and respectfully took
off his cap. It was really Trumence; but the good-for-nothing vagrant
did not present his usual careless appearance. He looked pale, and was
evidently very much excited.
“Well,” said M. Daubigeon, “so you have allowed yourself to be retaken?”
“Beg pardon, judge,” replied the poor fellow, “I was not retaken. I came
of my own accord.”
“Involuntarily, you mean?”
“Quite by my own free will! Just ask the sergeant.”