MY ARREST
To resume my own recital.
Marthe rested in my arms during the hour of sleep which we snatched out
of the mad turmoil of that night. When I was awakened everything came
back to me. It was decided that I should go to M. Hamard, and I kept
repeating to myself: "I must tell him exactly what the journalists told
me, I must not change a word. Otherwise, they have said, I shall be lost
and Marthe too." I had suffered so much that I was numb, and had hardly
any feeling in my body. I was calm. Nothing mattered.... Still I had one
fear, the terrible mob outside, the mob that wanted to kill us all, to
set fire to the house. I kissed Mme. Chabrier and gave her some money to
look after Marthe, in case anything happened to me.... I had been told
so many times during the night that I should be arrested!... I said to
Mariette: "Now, you must speak the truth...." She replied: "I will deny
everything."... The fresh air in the garden did me good. When I stepped
out into the Impasse with Marthe and M. Chabrier, I was surprised to see
that no one was there, not even a policeman! Those two men had lied
then.... A taxi from the _Matin_ was waiting outside the gate.
"Where are we going?" the driver asked.
"To the _Sûreté_," I replied.
M. Hamard was not yet up, of course. It was then about 4.20.... We
waited awhile; then he arrived, hastily dressed, his hair unbrushed,
wearing a night-shirt under his coat, and a pair of black slippers.
Utter bewilderment was written on his face.
Some one told me: "M. Hamard is going to write down everything you
say."
I said, or rather repeated, everything I had been made to say during the
night: no men in black gowns; no stolen jewels; M. Bdl., my friend;
Alexandre Wolff, the murderer.
M. Hamard said to me: "You and Wolff will be confronted."
M. Leydet arrived. "You have made a laughing-stock of me," he exclaimed;
"why did you not tell me the truth?"... I said: "Forgive me."
Why did he weep?... I wondered, and said to myself: "If he had had
greater tenacity, if he had searched with greater diligence, he would
have found the three men and the woman...."
Then Maître Aubin arrived. "What do I hear!" he exclaimed wildly. "You
have accused Wolff!"
Wolff was then brought in. (He had been arrested at seven in the
morning.) My declaration was read to him. He turned pale with anger and
vehemently denied everything. I certainly had serious suspicions against
Wolff, but, of course, my declaration, the new story of the crime, had
been directly inspired by the anonymous letters and also by the two
journalists, who had told me to "drop" the men in the black gowns and
the stolen jewels--and to find something else. I did not know what to
say, and thought that the only thing to do was to repeat the so-called
"Confession" I had made during the night.
Mariette was present, and she spoke of her devotion to me. Wolff now
explained his movements on the night of May 30th. He had sold a mare in
the morning, and taken her to the Eastern Station in the afternoon. He
had had a few "drinks" with the buyer, dined with his partner, and spent
the evening with him in a café. The two men parted at 11.30 P.M. On the
way home Wolff met a friend or two and had other "drinks," and went to
bed at 1.30 or 2 A.M. On the 31st, he had sold a horse in a small place
outside Paris, and had not heard of the murder until June 1st.
When first interrogated by M. Hamard--M. Leydet being present--I had
firmly declared before Mariette: "It is your son Alexandre, whom I saw
enter my room on the night of the crime. He gagged and bound me...." and
now, after Wolff's explanations, I repeated: "It was Wolff who came
into my room.... _Or else it was some one whose figure and face are just
like his._"
Later in the day, before M. Leydet and in the presence of Wolff, I said:
"I can say nothing more than what I have said to you.... I have no
material proofs to corroborate my statements," and I added: "Alexandre,
since you were in my room on the night of the crime, _you might help us
to discover the criminal_." And I apologised to him.
I quote these three different statements of mine, made at intervals, on
that 26th day of November, from the _Dossier_, Cote 65 and Cote 70.
All day long questions were asked me and confrontations took place....
And I had had less than two hours rest during the past five days.
Wolff called me a "mad and hysterical woman...." He was not far from the
truth, alas. But I remembered the warning, "This time don't change a
word of what you have told us, or else you and Marthe are lost."
I thought: If I am arrested, Wolff and Couillard are arrested too. And
since they know something, they will speak. Couillard has already made a
few revelations. Now it will be Wolff's turn. The whole truth will come
out. I did not know that that very day Couillard would be released and
that Wolff was only in custody for a few hours.
Maître Aubin once or twice took me to another room and entreated me not
to accuse Wolff.... Then both he and M. Hamard besought me to reflect:
"You have lost your reason," they said. "Retract your accusation against
Wolff...." They spoke kindly, and I thought: "They want to arrange
matters to stop this whole affair, because of the political mystery in
it. But I must resist to the end. The three men and the woman must be
found. I have gone too far, suffered too much, to give up the fight and
the search."
Some one told me: "If you persist in your accusations, they will arrest
both you and your daughter!"
My poor Marthe again. Journalists, the Law... everybody thought to
silence me by making use of my love for my child! I was indignant. Let
them arrest me! What did it matter! What did anything matter so long as
the murderers were sought--and found! She was innocent; they could but
recognise that at once. And as for me, what had I done? I had accused
Couillard and placed a pearl in his pocket-book to have him arrested, to
make him say what he knew.... I deserved to be punished for that. But
since I had been urged in every conceivable way to denounce the valet,
they would understand and soon forgive me.... Besides, he and Wolff
would perhaps speak. The letters were unanimous: they knew--and the
truth would at last be revealed.
And now Marthe arrived, accompanied by M. Chabrier. How pale she was!
How tear-stained and frightened her dear eyes! She sank on my breast,
clutched my arms, and sobbed. "Mother, mother," she cried, "they want to
put us in prison.... Can nothing be done? Say everything you know, if
you know everything!"....
Then M. Grandjean, _Substitut_ of the _Procureur_, tore my daughter away
from me and said: "Ah! you love your daughter! Well, we shall make her
suffer in order to make you talk!"
Since then, my daughter has told me that during the afternoon of that
dreadful day the same M. Grandjean had threatened to arrest her, and
also M. Chabrier, who had burst into tears.
From 4.30 A.M. till 7 P.M., with brief intervals, and one hour (2 P.M.)
during which I was allowed to talk with Marthe and have some tea, I was
subjected to endless examinations, in M. Hamard's _Cabinet_, by him, and
by M. Grandjean and M. Leydet.
It was towards 5 P.M. when it was decided that I should be arrested.
But, before that, I was once more interrogated by M. Leydet. We went
from the _Sûreté_ to the Palace of Justice, through a long chain of
staircases and passages. I was accompanied by inspectors, the judge, the
chief of the _Sûreté_, Maître Aubin, his two secretaries, and others. We
hurried along, for there were swarms of journalists everywhere, whom the
inspectors had to repel.
Alexandre Wolff, brought in by two municipal guards, was again
confronted with me, and it was then that I ceased to accuse him as
firmly as before, and asked him to "help me discover the murderer."
"Well, it was time you spoke like that," Wolff exclaimed. "I wasn't
going to be guillotined just to please you!"
Many things were said to me or before me; but I did not hear them. I had
no longer the strength or will to hear, or the power to reason....
M. Leydet said to me: "You are arrested." I did not mind at all. I could
not understand the terrible meaning of those three words.
I left the room. Maître Aubin was outside, in the corridor, with Marthe.
I saw that she was crying.
"Are you arrested too?" I asked her.
"No, no," said my counsel. "She is free."
I dried Marthe's tears, and said to her (she told me all this
afterwards, when she visited me in prison, and that is how I am able to
complete this narrative): "You must not weep. You know very well I am
not the only one.... Marie Antoinette was arrested, and others...."
My daughter embraced me and we parted. She has told me that I smiled,
and that my eyes were no longer like "living" eyes.
I followed Maître Aubin back to the _Sûreté_, where we entered the
_Cabinet_ of M. Hamard, and my counsel has told me since that I sat down
quietly and waited. M. Hamard, it appears, asked me whether I would like
to eat something. It was past nine o'clock then. "Oh, yes," I replied.
"Some ham and tea, please." When the tray was brought in, I settled down
before a little table, and said to the Chief of the _Sûreté_, "Surely
you are not going to let me eat by myself? Won't you have some tea with
me?" M. Hamard said gently, "I have too much to do...."
Then I heard some one sob behind me. It was an inspector, a good man,
who for months had done all he could to help me trace the murderers of
my husband and my mother.
When I had finished eating, M. Hamard said, "Madame, it is time to go
now. _Bon courage!_..."
My counsel's last words were, "In a week's time you will be back in your
daughter's arms."
I went down the staircase between the inspectors, whom I knew so well.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To Saint-Lazare."
I had never heard of Saint-Lazare before. I only knew of the station of
that name. I supposed they referred to a kind of home for women, a kind
of infirmary. We entered a taxi and drove away. We passed by the
Châtelet. I recognised it.... The inspectors looked very sad. They spoke
kind words to me....
"Is it very far, Saint-Lazare?" I asked.
I looked through the window. Paris seemed a new, a different city....
We reached Saint-Lazare. I glanced at the big building; it reminded me
of a convent.... And there were so many doors. We passed through a yard,
a passage. Then we came to a small room.
"Your name," said some one.
"Why?"
"You must write it, here...."
"Yes, Madame," said one of the inspectors, kindly. "Write your name,
your age...."
A bell rang. The inspectors, deeply moved, said, "We must bid you
good-bye, Madame...."
They went as far as a door with me. I shook hands with them and said,
"Courage, courage; we shall all know the truth soon."
Then I was taken to another room. There was green furniture in it; the
ceiling was low. It was not a beautiful room, but it was most
comfortable. I saw a small man of about forty-five, with a strong face,
blue eyes, fair hair, and a pointed beard, and some one said, "That is
_Monsieur le Directeur_."
"So it is you who are putting me here?"... I said. "That is a nice old
arm-chair...." I was convinced that I should be given a room like this
one.
The director spoke softly, in gentle tones. He rang a bell. A _gardien_
came with a "sister." She wore a black dress, and a great white cornette
encircled her kind, strong face. She looked about fifty. Afterwards I
learned her name; Soeur Léonide, and it was one of the names I learned
at Saint-Lazare which I shall never forget and which I bless day after
day.
She has since told me that the first words I said to her, when she
entered the director's room, were: "It is I, _ma soeur_; it is
strange, is it not, that it should be I?"...
I followed her, I began to be surprised, almost alarmed. She took me
through a long, long passage. At the end, there was a bed in an angle. A
man was there, he took up some large keys, and opened the door. The
sister took me by the hand and said: "It is a little dark...."
"How ugly and damp it is here, _ma soeur_".... I held the bannister:
"It reminds me," I said, "of those in the old houses at Montbéliard,
near my dear Beaucourt."
We came to another door. There I saw a sister sitting at a small desk in
a room where the windows had big iron bars. I felt frightened. We went
down another long passage, and came to a high gate which the sister
opened.
"Where are we going, _ma soeur_? Everything is so dirty and dark. Are
we going the right way?"
"Yes. You must come and fetch your sheets." She shut the gate behind
her, and I noticed for the first time a bunch of large heavy keys
hanging at her waist.
She opened the door with one of the keys and said: "I will choose some
nice sheets... you must be very tired."
"Oh no, _ma soeur_, I am not tired.... I hope Marthe is not unhappy. I
am glad she did not come here with me...."
The sister muttered: "Hush! You must not talk here.... Take these
sheets."
I looked at them. I had seen soldiers' sheets, but these were much
coarser.
The sister looked at me and said: "Yes... you are not used to them...."
I carried the sheets, and followed the sister along a filthy,
evil-smelling corridor.
"Where are you going after this?" I asked.
"My poor child, I am taking you to your cell."
Another sister arrived, turned a big key in a lock twice, and drew a
bolt. A heavy door was opened before me. The sister held a lantern, and
I was told to go in.
I saw two women's faces looking at me from two little beds against the
black walls, two barred windows, and three other beds that were empty.
"Make your bed, there...."
The foot of "my" bed touched that of a bed in which I saw a dark, pale,
fierce-looking woman, the sight of whom made me shiver....
There was a tiny unlighted stove with three legs and a long chimney in
the middle of the cell. The floor was made of slabs. Many were missing,
most of them were broken, and there was dirty water in the holes. It was
very cold.
One of the sisters pointed to a shelf above the bed and said: "You can
put your things there.... Give me your hat, your hatpins, your gloves.
You are only entitled to keep your dress."
I lay down, almost entirely dressed, on the bed. I heard a clock strike
midnight. I still wondered where I was. This is not an infirmary, I
thought.... And why am I not alone in a room?... The sisters went
silently away. I heard the key turned in the lock, the bolt pushed back.
The women at once started eagerly talking to me.... I could not
understand them. I thought of Marthe. I cried, cried... and then fell,
suddenly, into the great void of a sleep almost as deep as death.