CHAPTER XXVIII

THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE DAYS IN PRISON (_continued_)

A few days later, my counsel came and said to me: "We are to receive the dossier, all the documents of your case, and we shall then be able to read the evidence of all the witnesses, follow, page by page, the various clues in their reports, and learn all that has been done--and not been done.... Only, you will have to pay for that dossier."

"Pay!" I exclaimed. "Pay to know why I am accused of having murdered my husband and my mother! Pay to be able to defend myself! You must have lost your reason, Maître Aubin!"

"You are quite right, Madame: it is an infamous thing that money should be demanded for your own dossier. It is scandalous, wicked, unheard-of.... I grant you all that. But still, we must have the dossier, and pay for it, since payment is demanded."

I shook my head: "Suppose I were a poor woman, should I have to do without it?"

"Of course not.... But your dossier is enormous. It contains 4000 documents, and 15,000 pages. Think of it! At 150 words a page, it means two million and a quarter words. They want 1800 francs for it (£72)."

"Can you not plead without it?"

"I could, certainly; I have been present at the whole of your _Instruction_, and therefore know all about the case.... But one never can tell, the Prosecution might spring some surprise upon us, at the eleventh hour; we might not be prepared for it, however absurd or fantastic it might be.... It would be better if we could study the dossier in its entirety, and acquaint ourselves with the exact replies of all the witnesses to the questions M. Hamard, M. Leydet, and M. André put."

"Very well, then; I will defend myself, alone, without the dossier, and without you, and my innocence shall triumph."

The next day, Marthe came and entreated me to buy the dossier, saying that I had no right to take any risks. She even threatened to buy it herself for me, if I did not alter my decision. I had to yield, and entrusted my solicitor with the care of "purchasing the documents of my own case," adding that I wished him to "try and obtain a reduction."

My solicitor obtained the dossier after much haggling, for £48, instead of £72, and I knew then that another unlawful act had been committed... by the Law!

It was the middle of summer now. It was light soon after three in our cell, and Juliette pinned a blanket across our window so that we might sleep a little longer. I still did much sewing for the Sisters, but devoted several hours a day to the study of the voluminous and amazing dossier. Twice, and sometimes three times a week, my counsel came, and we "worked" together.

I discovered many remarkable things in the dossier. I discovered, for instance, that ninety-nine per cent. of the persons whom I knew intimately, receiving them again and again at my house, and seeing them or communicating with them as often as two or three times a week--and this until a few days before the crime--had declared in their evidence that they hardly knew me at all!

One gentleman, a bright and thoroughly useless nonentity, who had known me for several years, and whom for the sake of his charming young wife, I had greatly helped in his career, stated that he had only met me once or twice... forgetting that I had possessed, and still possess, a few scores of his letters in which he beseeched me to help him out of his difficulties, and to intercede in his favour with this or that Minister of State! An aged lady, who ruled over a political Salon--whose chief aim in life was nothing more nor less than the overthrow of the Republic, and who invited me, though I never accepted, to secret meetings where political plots were hatched, and who, manifesting the greatest affection for me and my daughter, came _constantly_ to my house--after declaring in her evidence that in February 1908, she "was present at a dinner given by Mme. Steinheil, where she met M. Dujardin-Beaumetz (Under-Secretary for Fine-Arts), Count and Countess d'Arlon, the wife of an ex-Minister... altogether some fifteen guests of incontestable morality." She went on to say that she had visited me, at the d'Arlons, after the crime, when I told her what had happened on the fatal night.... "She looked very upset and a prey to a kind of hallucination, which made her jump from one topic of conversation to another. To sum up, I had for the first time, the impression that Mme. Steinheil had not been quite sincere with me, that she had wanted to use to her advantage the position I hold in Society, and I mentally decided to have nothing more to do with her!"

* * * * *

But perhaps the most "curious" document in the dossier was the evidence given by the wife of a well-known banker, who stated: "At a reception, three years ago (1906)... I heard Mme. Steinheil. I congratulated her, in the usual terms.... I visited her husband's exhibition of paintings. Mme. Steinheil then came to one of my receptions and promised to sing at one of my "musicals." A few days later I invited her; she came with her husband, sang, and was applauded. As I could not consider her as a professional singer, I went to the Impasse Ronsin and bought one of her husband's paintings.... I only saw Mme. Japy once, that was at the only 'at home' which I attended at the Steinheils'. This sums up the relations my husband and I had with the Steinheils, except a mere visit of condolence we paid to her, at Bellevue, after the crime."

(_Dossier_ Cote 3138)

* * * * *

The true facts about those relations are these: this lady during the three years of our acquaintance came to most of my receptions, and stayed frequently from three o'clock till past eight. She used my salon as a means of making and cultivating acquaintances who might be useful to herself and her husband. People prominent in politics, art, or society did not attend her receptions, and she frequently sought my help in her desire to alter this. She brought all her friends to my house, called on me with her husband, not only in Paris but at Bellevue, where she came not just once, for a "mere visit of condolence," but a dozen or fifteen times without being invited, and week after week she sent me charming letters, all beginning with the words, "My darling Nell,"--a name she had given me for some reason unknown to me--not every day, but almost!

As for the close friends who coolly declared they had never met me at all, their names would make a long list!... I have forgiven them all. Friends in need are rare indeed; and was a woman ever in greater need--of sympathy--than I was during those terrible months that followed the crime! Well, I would rather that "devoted" friends ignored me than slandered me, as so many did, alas....

As a matter of fact, the only people who did have a kind or just word to say about me were not Society people, or wealthy or "prominent" personages, but old servants whom I had nursed when they were ill, and poor artists--men and women--who were not ashamed to say that I had helped them.

The dossier, indeed, proved a mine of psychological information. It revealed in their true light the character of scores of people whom I had trusted, helped, and liked, and it showed up vividly a side of Parisian Society which it is perhaps best to ignore.

I experienced another surprise when I found that several persons whom I had never met, and had never heard of, gave evidence about me--most damaging evidence, of course.

The most "dramatic" discovery I made in the dossier was that of Comte de Balincourt's career. The following document, especially, gave me one of the greatest shocks I ever experienced:

"Paris, December 9th, 1909. _Report_:

"According to my instructions, I called on the 3rd inst. on M. Sébille, Principal Commissary of the _Sûreté Générale_ at the Ministry of the Interior. This magistrate pointed out to our chief the interest there might be in consulting a dossier which M. Sébille possesses about Comte de Balincourt, whose name has been mentioned in connection with the Steinheil affair.

"M. Sébille first of all made it known that, at the beginning of December 1907, he had been concerned with de Balincourt. The latter had been marked out to him as the instigator of a burglary which was to take place at that time to the detriment of Mme. de Brossard, a lady of independent means, 23 Rue de l'Orangerie, at Versailles.

"This burglary was to be committed in circumstances which are related in the dossier which M. Sébille allowed me to consult.

"The facts are these:

"D. H. J. H. Emmanuel Testu, Count de Balincourt, born on August 4th, 1873, was married at Versailles in December 1901.... A divorce was pronounced against him in January 1907. It is said that while he was married, Count de Balincourt made long stays at his wife's grandmother's, Mme. de Brossard, at Versailles. He knew that she had large sums of money in her safe. Needy, and having recourse to expedients, de Balincourt planned the burglary mentioned above.

"He told his friend P. L. F. Delpit--who styled himself a man 'of independent means'--about the scheme. At that time, de Balincourt and Delpit resided together at Neuilly. It would appear that Delpit, who mixes with criminal people, took upon himself the task of recruiting the individuals capable of successfully carrying out that 'operation.'

"Whilst he was being carefully shadowed by M. Sébille's inspectors, Delpit was followed to the haunts of professional thieves... (two of these haunts are here quoted). It was thus ascertained that Delpit had conferred with criminal individuals, the identity of a few of whom was established:

"(1) A man nicknamed Baptistin, aged 30... who has the reputation of being a dangerous criminal.... (2) Langon, Marius, nicknamed 'the Gypsy.'... He is mentioned as possessing a special pneumatic tool for boring metal.... Five sentences have been passed on him, including one of five years' imprisonment.... (3) Goirand, aged 30... twice condemned.... (4) Fontaine, Gustave, aged 30.... (5) _Monstet de Fonpeyrine, born in 1877, at Santiago de Cuba_, conjurer, arrested in November last for robberies in Paris hotels.

"Whilst these individuals were being shadowed by the _Sûreté Générale_, it was found that Fontaine drove to Versailles in a motor-car, and he was seen at night trying skeleton keys in the lock of the door of Mme. de Brossard's mansion.

"It is not known whether some indiscretions were committed; at any rate, these individuals ceased to meet in their haunts, and abandoned their plans.

"Finally, during the shadowing of Count de Balincourt, _one of the inspectors saw him go to the Impasse Ronsin No. 6, and from there, by the Underground to the station of 'Les Couronnes,' where he (de Balincourt) had an appointment with the above-mentioned individuals_....

"...At any rate, the fact seems sufficiently established that the initial steps of the burglary that had been planned were carried out, since skeleton keys were tried by Fontaine, on the door of Mme. Brossard (grandmother of de B.'s wife).

"As regards de Balincourt and Delpit, both these individuals are mentioned in the general report concerning the Steinheil affair. _There are 'dossiers' about both of them in the archive of the Sûreté in reference to burglaries; and further, there are photographs of both of them at the 'Service of Judicial Identification._'

"(Signed) INSPECTOR DECHET."

(_Dossier_ Cote 1069)

* * * * *

And this Count de Balincourt I received, alas, several times at my house and once at Bellevue, in circumstances which I have described!

No power on earth could induce me even to suggest that M. de Balincourt and his friend knew anything about the Impasse Ronsin murder, or were in any way connected with it. I foolishly accused Couillard and Wolff, and have bitterly regretted it ever since, but I have often thought what a fortunate thing it was for me that I was not acquainted with those details of M. de Balincourt's life, after the crime and _before_ my arrest. For, in the morbid state of agitation in which I was, and in my pardonable eagerness to discover the murderers, I should no doubt have made my own case worse by accusing, not only my valet and the son of my cook, but also M. de Balincourt, especially as he had gained access to my house in a rather strange manner, had deceived me about his address, had done his utmost to gain M. Steinheil's confidence, _and knew about the Faure documents_.

As it was, I had strong suspicions against him, and they became even stronger, and surely, after what I read in M. de Balincourt's dossier, and have partly quoted, the reader will perhaps grant that, although I had no "real" or "absolute" cause to suspect the man, I had some reason to... let us say, distrust him.

I must add, however, that in another of Inspector Dechet's reports I read that: "It has been impossible to ascertain what persons M. de Balincourt went about with in May 1908.... The only friend he was known to have at the time was Delpit, who lived with him. It is useful to mention that M. de Balincourt has always asserted that he had made the acquaintance of Mme. Steinheil towards February 15th (1908).... It appears doubtful therefore that at the time when this individual (M. de B.) was being shadowed by the _Sûreté Générale_ in December 1907, he could have been seen going to No. 6 Impasse Ronsin.

"The Inspector:

"(Signed) DECHET."

(_Dossier_ Cote 1089)

* * * * *

M. de Balincourt was several times interrogated, and among other things, he stated: "On Saturday, May 30, 1908, I returned at about 8 P.M. to the pavilion where I reside with my friend Delpit (at Courbevoie, a suburb of Paris).... We dined at 11.30; we parted and went each of us to his rooms. The next day, May 31st, I rose late and joined my father at the Neuilly Church, as I did every Sunday. At about one o'clock I was back home and lunched with my family and Delpit. I spent the afternoon in my garden, and only went out at seven o'clock to buy the journal _La Presse_, with Delpit, at the station. After we had deplored our losses, for we had put some money on a horse which had not won, my attention was drawn to a heading announcing the murder of the members of the Steinheil family. As I read the article I was dumfounded and absolutely distracted. We were surprised, Delpit and I, that Mme. Steinheil had been spared by the murderers, but I was the first to recognise that circumstances must have favoured her....

"(Signed) HAMARD. COMTE DE BALINCOURT."

(_Dossier_ Cote 1087)

* * * * *

I must also add that it is stated in the _Dossier_ Cote 1089, that it was not while the gang of thieves previously referred to were being shadowed that one of them "was seen going to Versailles to try the skeleton-keys" but that "the fact was revealed by an _indicateur_ whose name the _Sûreté Générale_ could not divulge."

I made many other strange discoveries in that most extraordinary of dossiers. Indeed, it not only contains the absolute proofs of my innocence, throws much light on Parisian life, and gives an insight into the psychology of at least two or three "spheres" of Society, but it also holds a serious condemnation of a number of judicial methods, so palpably unjust that it seems incredible that they should be allowed to exist in a land, which by universal consent ranks foremost, not only in the realms of Art and Science, but also in the domain of Intellectuality, noble aspirations, and idealism.

The dossier fills 15,000 pages; it is therefore impossible to quote it in full.... I have, however, submitted to the reader its most essential parts; but before concluding this rapid review of the surprises that dossier held in store for me, I should like to mention one or two more episodes:

I had a lady friend, who was then about fifty, and whom I had known intimately for nearly fifteen years. This lady knew my life and my affairs as thoroughly as I knew hers. She came constantly to the Impasse Ronsin with her husband, a man of about seventy, and her cousin, a barrister of repute, and also to _Vert-Logis_, at Bellevue, with that cousin. We corresponded regularly, in the most affectionate of terms. That she should have virulently criticised my conduct, that she should have made such acid statements as these: "Mme. Steinheil was most familiar and very quickly familiar with everybody, with men as well as with women; she called gentlemen 'my friend, my great friend,' and ladies 'my dear, my darling!'... She gave me the impression of being jealous of her lady-friends' wealth. She lied constantly about anything and everything.... I saw her less and less.... I had heard ugly rumours about her conduct...." (_Dossier_, Cote 3058)--all this I can realise and forgive: it is so human, so typical of a certain class of Society and a certain type of woman.... Besides, I was in prison at the time; I could not answer or contradict statements. My "friend" was quite safe.

But it appears that at the same time--early in 1909--this lady spoke about certain anonymous letters and about _poisoned chocolates_, which she thought I had sent her!

I can imagine the sensation in her drawing-room, and the success of her "at homes." The Steinheil affair was the one topic of conversation everywhere, and here was a hostess who had known that wicked woman, the "Tragic Widow," the "Red Widow," for many, many years! And she had something new to say, something amazingly sensational: she had once received a box of poisoned chocolates from the woman who was accused of having murdered her husband and her mother!...

I can see the ladies forgetting their tea and their _petit-fours_, pressing eagerly round my "friend" and saying, in hushed tones: "Not really!... You don't mean to say that.... But what a monster that creature must have been.... And to think she was here, in this very room.... My poor dear.... No, no, we shall not mention this to any one. You can rely on us. But what a dreadful secret!"...

The next day, of course, all the newspapers devoted columns to it.

The mystery ceased to be a mystery: Mme. Steinheil had poisoned the victims and afterwards strangled them, when they were quite defenceless! It was quite clear! The riddle was solved, at last!

Once again, Public Opinion was aroused against me. And from these people who read the newspapers, whose minds were daily being incensed against me--to such an extent, I have heard since, that it was not safe for any one to take my part, even in a salon!--from that enraged Public, twelve men were to be chosen, a few months later, to decide my fate!

I need hardly say that there was not one atom of truth in that atrocious story. In her evidence given _before M. André_, on January 12th, 1909, my "friend" stated: "Three or four years ago, I received two or three anonymous letters, teasing rather than nasty. I _supposed_ they came from Mme. Steinheil, but I never spoke to her about them. On the occasion of the New Year, at that same period, a box of chocolates, badly packed, was left with my _concierge_ for me. Without tasting them or giving any to any one, not even my dog, I sent those chocolates to the Municipal Laboratory to be analysed. I was told that the chocolates were absolutely harmless. I had taken the whole thing as a joke, which I attributed to the author of the anonymous letters, that is, to Mme. Steinheil. Since then I have found that those chocolates had been sent me by Doctor C."

(_Dossier_ Cote 3058)

* * * * *

A thorough inquiry was made, and its results form a report dated February 9th, 1909, addressed to M. Hamard by Inspector Laurent, in which it is stated that:

"... She (Mme. D.) lost or destroyed the written reply sent by the Laboratory, but remembers that it said the chocolates were harmless.... Dr. C. stated that two or three years ago he had sent to Mme. D. a box of chocolates, but that he had forgotten to send his card with it, so that the lady heard of the origin of the chocolates only when he himself asked her if she had received them. The lady _never_ told him they were 'bad.'

"Inquiries made by the Municipal Laboratory about those chocolates, yielded no results. _No traces can be found that Mme. D. ever sent chocolates to be analysed, either in her own name or in any other name at her address._"

(_Dossier_ Cote 3060)

* * * * *

In this way was yet another "story," most damaging to my cause, told, spread, universally discussed--and finally proved to be entirely false! Once more I was vindicated, but once more... incalculable harm had been done me.

This fantastic story of the "poisoned chocolates" had a sequel, whether direct or indirect, I cannot tell. At any rate, shortly afterwards, the body of M. Steinheil was exhumed. In December 1908, that of my mother had been exhumed, and now, my husband's remains were once more examined, so that a search might be made for any traces of narcotic or poison.

Dr. Courtois-Suffit, had made a thorough "medical" examination, immediately after the crime, but ten months later, Dr. Balthazard was requested by M. André to make a second autopsy!

Although M. Steinheil was buried in the family vault at L'Hay, Marthe's consent was not even asked for the exhumation. The tomb was, as it were, broken into, and the body of her father removed to be examined once more. (Yet another unlawful act committed by the law!) She--and I--only heard of the exhumation several days after it had taken place. I can hardly believe that such an arbitrary and scandalous act could have been committed in any other civilised country.

The conclusion of Dr. Balthazard's lengthy and most painstaking report was that "toxicological examination of the viscera... _did not reveal any traces_ of narcotic or stupefactive.'"

(_Dossier_ Cote 220)

There was no mention whatever of poison. In this same and final report, Dr. Balthazard went on to say that: "Finally, M. Steinheil died without a struggle, from strangulation by a cord; it appears that he died at the spot where he was found... (away from his bed, on the threshold of the bath-room). Secondly, Mme. Japy died of suffocation owing to the introduction of a voluminous gag of wadding into her mouth; before she was dead, a cord was tightened round her neck; Mme. Japy appears to have died on her bed at the very place where her body was found. There were no traces of violence to indicate that she struggled against an aggressor...."

In Cote 197, I read with interest the statements made by M. Rousseau, a mechanic at the large printing works in the Impasse Ronsin--which employ some two thousand men and women.

"About three weeks before the crime, I noticed in the Impasse Ronsin, at noon, or 1 P.M., three men and a woman near the wall of the Steinheils' house; they were talking together.... The woman rang at the gate. Some one came and spoke to her for a few moments. Meanwhile, the three men walked a little away from the gate, but remained on that side of the Impasse." After describing the four persons (the three men wore "black felt artists' hats," and the "woman wore a shawl in the Italian style"), M. Rousseau declared that he "saw those people again several times, near the gate of my house," and that he was struck by "their hesitating attitude."

A "M. Godefroy, also employed at the printing works... remembered having seen those individuals in the Impasse Ronsin...."

* * * * *

I was also surprised to find that in this colossal dossier many persons gave evidence who had only met me once or twice, whilst close friends whom I had known for years were not questioned about me. Thus the dossier contained no mention of Bonnat or Massenet, of M. Viollet-le-Duc, of M. Delalande--French Consul-General in Naples and recently in London--who had known me from the days when I was only fourteen; of M. Sadi-Carnot, son of the late President; of M. Duteil d'Ozanne, Chief of the Secretariat of the "Legion of Honour"; and many other prominent men. Not one of the generals, admirals, statesmen, politicians, and important officials who knew me well, were consulted, nor, of course, President Tassard, President Petit, or any of the numberless magistrates with whom, and with whose wives, I was on terms of close friendship.

* * * * *

Whilst working on the dossier I became less despondent, and regained some of the strength I had lost. Reading those documents aroused not only my indignation, but also my will. I would not be condemned; I would fight the Prosecution and win; I would say all I knew, happen what might.... But my counsel begged me to let him conduct my defence, and warned me, now that my trial was approaching, as he had warned me before the _Instruction_. "If you attack any one, you are lost," he would say; "be calm, answer questions, and let _me_ do everything at your trial."

When would that trial take place? When should I be free? I kept asking those two questions of Maître Aubin, who, alas! could give me no definite answer.

The summer had passed; the autumn had come. Through the iron bars of my window I saw the leaves fall one by one from the trees in the yard, and the prison and the sky were again grey and dreary, as on that November day, a year before, when I awoke to find myself for the first time in a prison cell. I knew every one in the prison now, and every stone. I knew every cat and many of the pigeons, which I had named.

Marthe came three times a week. The Sisters were more attentive and devoted than ever. Pastor Arboux and the Catholic Chaplain visited me as regularly as ever, and Juliette did her utmost to make my life more bearable; but the end of a journey is always the most trying part to body and mind, and then I was not sure, in spite of my absolute innocence, that the end of my terrible journey was at hand. I had been treated with such injustice, and, as I knew only too well, opinion was so much against me, that at times I imagined that I should be found guilty. But I argued with Sister Léonide, or Juliette, or... myself, and Hope sprang eternal in my frozen heart.

I had now been over eleven months in prison. November had come, with its dull skies and monotonous rains. My cell was dark again, and damper than ever. Juliette "read" the cards five, eight, ten times a day for me, and told me every time that my innocence would appear to all, and that I should be triumphantly acquitted.... It is wonderful what cards can say, or be made to say.

I knew the dossier by heart now in spite of its two million words. But the opening day of the trial, although every second brought me nearer to it, seemed to become more hopelessly distant. I sat on my rush chair by the open window and tried to take an interest in what I saw, although I knew it all so well. The drizzling rain drifted in through the wire trellis and the iron bars, and cooled my burning forehead. I pressed my hands flat against the trellis to cool them too, and sometimes, in a gust of frenzy at the thought of my imprisonment, I convulsively clutched both the bars and the trellis, and shook and shook them as if I thought I could shake them to pieces.

I heard that my trial was to begin at the Assize Court on Wednesday, November 3rd (1909), at noon.

Towards the end of October I had had a long talk with my daughter, and we had agreed that it would be better for me--and her--if she did not come again to Saint-Lazare. Her visits gave me life, but at the same time we could not help talking about the impending and momentous trial. Marthe wept bitterly, and the sight of her tears made me lose the courage and strength I so much needed to enable me to face the terrible ordeal.

"I will come at the end of your trial to see you acquitted, mother!" had been the last words of my beloved daughter.

I had long talks with my counsel. He urged me to be calm and discreet. Above all, he entreated me not to mention any "new" fact, and not to speak of President Faure or the judges I had known intimately; in short, he repeated what he had said to me before the _Instruction_.

I promised everything. I had the greatest confidence in my counsel, and he had sworn to me that I should be acquitted if only I did as he told me. I threatened, however, to break all my promises if there were women at my trial. I was thinking chiefly of _one_ woman, the wife of a most prominent personage--at the time--the very woman who had visited President Faure shortly before my arrival at the Elysée on that fatal February 16th, 1899. I could not bear the idea that _she_ might be in the court, smiling sarcastically at my misfortune and my shame--she free, powerful, perhaps even respected, and I a prisoner accused of murder!... Let not the reader think that there was or could be a question of jealousy between that woman and me. She hated me in those days when President Faure honoured me not only with his friendship but with his confidence, and she had hated me ever since. For my own part, I had not worried over her, but I had warned the President time after time against her, for it was she who had urged him to adopt that dangerous remedy from the abuse of which I have no doubt he died.... I thought of other women, too: "friends," who after seeing me for fifteen years in my salon now find it "amusing" to watch me in a Court of Assize.... Ah! Let not the reader speak of Spite, Jealousy, or Malice! I had but one thought: to be acquitted, to escape from that Inferno, and to be once more near my child. But I needed all my reason and all my strength for that trial, and I felt that if around me I saw women laugh at my misery, my grief would be greater, the trial more painful, victory more difficult to achieve!...

Did Maître Aubin take some steps or not? I cannot say, nor do I wish to know. But I was shown, shortly before the opening of the trial, a cutting from _Le Temps_, I believe, which stated that M. de Valles would not allow any ladies to be present at the Steinheil trial.

On Sunday, October 31, my counsel remained with me most of the day, giving me his final words of advice and warning.

Personally, I did not know any longer what to do, or say, or think. I was exhausted, bewildered, worn, a prey to a thousand and one conflicting thoughts and emotions. For eighteen months my life had been a martyrdom; no sorrow, no pain, no insult, no trial had been spared me, and now I longed for peace, for sleep, for oblivion. Nothing else mattered.

On Monday, November 1, I was told that I should be sent for the next day at 2 P.M. and taken to the Palace of Justice. Several of the Sisters remained a long time in my cell. Pastor Arboux called and prayed with me. The old chaplain, M. Doumergue, played the organ in the chapel, then he came to my cell and gave me his blessing.... I could not sleep during the night, and poor Juliette, with her usual kindness, remained, hour after hour, seated near my bed, talking to me, cheering me, comforting me....

The next morning--Tuesday, November 2--Sister Léonide brought me my hat, cloak and gloves; and the Sisters came once more to say that they had prayed for me and to ask me to trust in the Almighty: I would be acquitted, they all knew it; my innocence would be victoriously revealed. They could hardly speak, and I was so moved that words failed me when I tried to thank them all....

A clock struck two, I had been ready since noon. No one came. Three o'clock, four, five, six, eight, ten o'clock! Still no one.... Then Sister Léonide entered my cell and said: "You will not go to-day; they will come and fetch you to-morrow at five in the morning, my poor child!"

I had been walking up and down my cell for over ten hours! Sister Léonide compelled me to eat a little. I went to bed, assisted by Juliette, and I fell asleep and dreamed of Marthe.

Sister Léonide awoke me at 4 A.M., for, at five, I would be sent for.... And my trial was to begin at noon! I felt very tired and sleepy. Juliette kissed me good-bye. Sister Léonide asked me to remember Saint-Lazare--and her--sometimes, and she too gave me a blessing. Then, after a look round the cell where I had been imprisoned for nearly a year, and a last hand-shake with Juliette, I walked out into the "Boulevard of the Cells" and followed Sister Léonide. That the prisoners might not know of my departure, the gong was not rung. I walked as in a trance. But all the time, I thought of my arrival at Saint-Lazare a year before! A year!... I had spent a year within the walls of a prison!...

It was cold, very cold, and the silence was awe-inspiring. I thanked Sister Léonide for all that she had done for me, but there must have been more gratitude in my eyes than in my words.... Then, I was led to a carriage and driven to the _Dépôt_ before I fully realised that I had left Saint-Lazare--probably for ever!

On the way, I looked at Paris, that vast city which for me had lost its meaning.... I counted the lamp-posts we passed, watched the few people I saw, threw a glance at the Seine, the waters of which seemed to be made of molten lead, cold and motionless. A fine drizzle struck my face through my mourning veil as I stepped out of the carriage and entered the _Dépôt_....

There, the Sister Superior with the beautiful and pathetic face was awaiting me. She begged me to lie down on the bed in the cell, and I gladly obeyed, but at 8.30 A.M., I felt so restless that I rose and paced my cage. The aged Sister of Mercy came, and I heard that hundreds of poor wretches had spent the night outside the Palace of Justice in order to sell their "seats" to persons anxious to be present at my trial. I was told afterwards that such "seats" fetched from twenty-five to one hundred francs (£1 to £4), and that a few morbid amateurs of sensational spectacles paid as much as £10 and even £15 for the privilege of standing at the back of the court in the small and overcrowded "public" enclosure, to watch a woman struggling to prove her innocence.

I was asked to be "quite ready" by 11 A.M. I was ready in every way, except mentally, for as the hour drew near when I would appear before my judges, I felt my strength ebb from me. It all seemed so useless, so utterly absurd, to be innocent and yet to have to prove one's innocence, to fight for one's life!...

Some one--the Director at the _Dépôt_ perhaps--told me I should need all the presence of mind, all the will and all the power of arguing at my command, and I heard to my unspeakable disgust that recently--yes, before my trial--the _Matin_ had published _in extenso_ the text of the _Indictment_ against me!