A.--We had no intercourse with each other.
P.--But it was known all over the country that you hated him?
A.--That is a mistake. I declare, upon my honor, that I always looked upon him as the best and most honorable of men.
P.--There, at least, you agree with all who knew him. Still you are at law with him?
A.--I have inherited that suit from my uncle, together with his fortune.
I carried it on, but very quietly. I asked for nothing better than a compromise.
P.--And, when Count Claudieuse refused, you were incensed?
A.--No.
P.--You were so irritated against him, that you once actually aimed your gun at him. At another time you said, "He will not leave me alone till I put a ball into him." Do not deny! You will hear what the witnesses say.
Thereupon, the accused resumes his place. He looks as confident as ever, and carries his head high. He has entirely overcome any feeling of discouragement, and converses with his counsel in the most composed manner.
There can be no doubt, that, at this stage of the proceedings, public opinion is on his side. He has won the good-will even of those who came there strongly prejudiced. No one can help being impressed by his proud but mournful expression of fate; and all are touched by the extreme simplicity of his answers.
Although the discussion about the gun has not turned out to his advantage, it does not seem to have injured him. People are eagerly discussing the question of the fouling of guns. A number of incredulous persons, whom the experiment has not convinced, maintain that M. Maucroy has been too rash in his statements. Others express surprise at the reserve shown by counsel,--less by that of M. Folgat, who is unknown here, than by that of M. Magloire, who usually allows no opportunity to escape, but is sure to profit by the smallest incident.
The proceedings are not exactly suspended; but there is a pause, whilst the ushers cover the articles on the table once more with red cloth, and, after several comings and goings, roll a large arm-chair in front of the judge"s seat.
At last one of the ushers comes up to the president, and whispers something into his ear.
The president only nods his head.
When the usher has left the room, M. Domini says,--
"We shall now proceed to hear the witnesses, and we propose to begin with Count Claudieuse. Although seriously indisposed, he has preferred to appear in court."
At these words Dr. Seignebos is seen to start up, as if he wished to address the court; but one of his friends, sitting by him, pulls him down by his coat. M. Folgat makes a sign to him, and he sits down again.
P.--Sheriff, bring in Count Claudieuse.
[Examination of Witnesses.]
The small door through which the armorer Maucroy had been admitted opens once more, and Count Claudieuse enters. Supported and almost carried by his man-servant.
He is greeted by a murmur of sympathetic pity. He is frightfully thin; and his features look as haggard as if he were about to give up the ghost. The whole vitality of his system seems to have centred in his eyes, which shine with extraordinary brilliancy.
He takes the oath in an almost inaudible voice.
But the silence is so deep, that when the president asks him the usual question, "Do you swear to tell the whole truth?" and he answers, "I swear," the words are distinctly heard all over the court-room.
P.--(Very kindly.) We are very much obliged to you, sir, for the effort which you have made. That chair has been brought in for you: please sit down.
COUNT CLAUDIEUSE.--I thank you, sir; but I am strong enough to stand.
P.--Please tell us, then, what you know of the attempt made on your life.
C.C.--It might have been eleven o"clock: I had gone to bed a little while before, and blown out my light. I was in that half state which is neither waking nor sleeping, when I saw my room lighted up by a dazzling glare. I saw it was fire. I jumped out of bed, and, only lightly dressed, rushed down the stairs. I found some difficulty in opening the outer door, which I had locked myself. At last I succeeded. But I had no sooner put my foot outside than I felt a terrible pain in my right side, and at the same time I heard an explosion of fire-arms. Instinctively I rushed towards the place from which the shot seemed to have been fired; but, before I had taken three steps, I was struck once more in my shoulder, and fell down unconscious.
P.--How long a time was there between the first and the second shots?
C.C.--Almost three or four seconds.
P.--Was that time enough to distinguish the murderer?
C.C.--Yes; and I saw him run from behind a wood-pile, where he had been lying in ambush, and escape into the country.
P.--You can tell us, no doubt, how he was dressed?
C.C.--Certainly. He had on a pair of light gray trousers, a dark coat, and a large straw hat.
At a sign from the president, and in the midst of the most profound silence, the ushers remove the red cloth from the table.
P.--(Pointing at the clothes of the accused.) Does the costume which you describe correspond with those cloths?
C.C.--Of course; for they are the same.
P.--Then you must have recognized the murderer.
C.C.--The fire was so large at that time, that it was as bright as daylight. I recognized M. Jacques de Boiscoran.
There was, probably, in the whole vast audience a.s.sembled under that roof, not a heart that was not seized with unspeakable anguish when these crushing words were uttered.
We were so fully prepared for them, that we could watch the accused closely.
Not a muscle in his face seemed to move. His counsel showed as little any signs of surprise or emotion.
Like ourselves, the president also, and the prosecuting attorney, had been watching the accused and his counsel. Did they expect a protest, an answer, any thing at all? Perhaps they did.
But, as nothing came, the president continued, turning to witness,--
P.--Your declaration is a very serious one, sir.
C.C.--I know its weight.
P.--It is entirely different from your first deposition made before the investigating magistrate.
C.C.--It is.
P.--When you were examined a few hours after the crime, you declared that you had not recognized the murderer. More than that, when M. de Boiscoran"s name was mentioned, you seemed to be indignant of such a suspicion, and almost became surety yourself for his innocence.
C.C.--That was contrary to truth. I felt a very natural sense of commiseration, and tried to save a man who belonged to a highly esteemed family from disgraceful punishment.