Chapter 34
Everybody rises, everybody strains his eyes to see, and stands on tiptoe. Some persons in the back rows even get upon their chairs.
The president has ordered the prisoner to be brought in.
He appears.
He is dressed in black, and with great elegance. It is noticed that he wears in his buttonhole the ribbon of the Legion of Honor.
He looks pale; but his eye is clear and open, full of confidence, yet not defiant. His carriage is proud, though melancholy.
He has hardly taken his seat when a gentleman passes over three rows of chairs, and, in spite of the officers of the court, succeeds in shaking hands with him. It is Dr. Seignebos.
The president orders the sheriff to proclaim silence; and, after having reminded the audience that all expressions of approbation or disapprobation are strictly prohibited, he turns to the accused, and asks him,--
"Tell me your first names, your family name, your age, your profession, and your domicile."
The accused replies,--
"Louis Trivulce Jacques de Boiscoran, twenty-seven years, land-owner, residing at Boiscoran, district of Sauveterre."
"Sit down, and listen to the charges which are brought against you."
The clerk, M. Mechinet, thereupon reads the charges, which, in their terrible simplicity, cause a shudder to pass through the whole audience.
We shall not repeat them here, as all the incidents which they relate are well known to our readers.
[Examination of the Accused.]
PRESIDENT.--Accused, rise and answer clearly. During the preliminary investigation, you have refused to answer several questions. Now the matter must be cleared up. And I am bound to tell you it is to your interest to answer frankly.
ACCUSED.--No one desires more than I do that the truth be known. I am ready to answer.
P.--Why were you so reticent in your first examination?
A.--I though it important for my interests to answer only in court.
P.--You have heard of what crimes you are accused?
A.--I am innocent. And, first of all, I beg you will allow me to say one thing. The crime committed at Valpinson is an atrocious, cowardly crime; but it is at the same time an absurdly stupid crime, more like the unconscious act of a madman. Now, I have always been looked upon as not lacking exactly in intelligence.
P.--That is a discussion.
A.--Still, Mr. President--
P.--Hereafter you shall have full liberty to state your argument. For the present you must be content to answer the questions which I shall ask you.
A.--I submit.
P.--Were you not soon to be married?
At this question all eyes are turned towards Miss Chandore, who blushes till she is as red as a poppy, but does not cast down her eyes.
A.--(In a low voice.) Yes.
P.--Did you not write to your betrothed a few hours before the crime was committed?
A.--Yes, sir; and I sent her my letter by the son of one of my tenants, Michael.
P.--What did you write to her?
A.--That important business would prevent me from spending the evening with her.
P.--What was that business?
At the moment when the accused opened his lips to reply, the president stopped him by a gesture, and said,--
P.--Take care! You were asked this question during the preliminary investigation, and you replied that you had to go to Brechy to see your wood-merchant.
A.--I did indeed make that reply on the spur of the moment. It was not exact.
P.--Why did you tell a falsehood?
A.--(After an expression of indignation, which was noticed by all.) I could not believe that I was in danger. It seemed to me impossible that I should be reached by an accusation, which nevertheless, has brought me into this court. Hence I did not deem it necessary to make my private affairs public.
P.--But you very soon found out that you were in danger?
A.--Yes, I did.
P.--Why did you not tell the truth then?
A.--Because the magistrate who carried on the investigation had been too intimate a friend of mine to inspire me with confidence.
P.--Explain yourself more fully.
A.--I must ask leave to say no more. I might, in speaking of M. Galpin, be found to be wanting in moderation.
A low murmur accompanies this reply made by the accused.
P.--Such murmurs are improper, and I remind the audience of the respect due to the court.
M. Gransiere, the prosecuting attorney, rises,--
"We cannot tolerate such recriminations against a magistrate who has done his duty nobly, and in spite of the pain it caused him. If the accused had well-founded objections to the magistrate, why did he not make them known? He cannot plead ignorance: he knows the law, he is a lawyer himself. His counsel, moreover, are men of experience."
M. Magloire replies, in his seat,--
"We were of the opinion that the accused ought to ask for a change of venue. He declined to follow our advice, being confident, as he said, that his cause was a good one."
M. Gransiere, resuming his seat,--
"The jury will judge of this plea."
P.--(To the accused.) And now are you ready to tell the truth with regard to that business which prevented you from spending the evening with your betrothed?
A.--Yes, sir. My wedding was to take place at the church in Brechy, and I had to make my arrangements with the priest about the ceremony. I had, besides, to fulfil certain religious duties. The priest at Brechy, who is a friend of mine, will tell you, that, although no day had been fixed, it had been agreed upon between us that I should come to confession on one of the evenings of the week since he insisted upon it.
The audience, which had been expecting some very exciting revelations, seemed to be much disappointed; and ironical laughter was heard in various directions.
P.--(In a severe tone of voice.) This laughter is indecent and objectionable. Sheriff, take out the persons who presume to laugh. And once more I give notice, that, at the first disturbance, I shall order the room to be cleared.
Then, turning again to the accused, he said,--
P.--Go on!
A.--I went therefore to the priest at Brechy, that evening: unluckily there was no one at home at the parsonage when I got there. I was ringing the third or fourth time in vain, when a little peasant-girl came by, who told me that she had just met the priest at the Marshalls' Cross-roads. I thought at once I would go and meet him, and went in that direction. But I walked more than four miles without meeting him. I thought the girl must have been mistaken, and went home again.
P.--Is that your explanation?
A.--Yes.
P.--And you think it a plausible one?
A.--I have promised to say not what is plausible, but what is true. I may confess, however, that, precisely because the explanation is so simple, I did not venture at first to give it. And yet if no crime had been committed, and I had said the day after, "Yesterday I went to see the priest at Brechy, and did not find him," who would have seen any thing unnatural in my statement?
P.--And, in order to fulfil so simple a duty, you chose a roundabout way, which is not only troublesome, but actually dangerous, right across the swamps?
A.--I chose the shortest way.
P.--Then, why were you so frightened upon meeting young Ribot at the Seille Canal?
A.--I was not frightened, but simply surprised, as one is apt to be when suddenly meeting a man where no one is expected. And, if I was surprised, young Ribot was not less so.
P.--You see that you hoped to meet no one?
A.--Pardon me, I did not say so. To expect is not the same as to hope.
P.--Why, then did you take such pains to explain your being there?
A.--I gave no explanations. Young Ribot first told me, laughingly, where he was going, and then I told him that I was going to Brechy.
P.--You told him, also, that you were going through the marshes to shoot birds, and, at the same time you showed him your gun?
A.--That may be. But is that any proof against me? I think just the contrary. If I had had such criminal intentions as the prosecution suggests, I should certainly have gone back after meeting people, knowing that I was exposed to great danger. But I was only going to see my friend, the priest.
P.--And for such a visit you took your gun?
A.--My land lies in the woods and marshes, and there was not a day when I did not bag a rabbit or a waterfowl. Everybody in the neighborhood will tell you that I never went out without a gun.
P.--And on your return, why did you go through the forest of Rochepommier?
A.--Because, from the place where I was on the road, it was probably the shortest way to Boiscoran. I say probably, because just then I did not think much about that. A man who is taking a walk would be very much embarrassed, in the majority of cases, if he had to give a precise account why he took one road rather than another.
P.--You were seen in the forest by a woodcutter, called Gaudry?
A.--So I was told by the magistrate.
P.--That witness deposes that you were in a state of great excitement. You were tearing leaves from the branches, you were talking loud.
A.--I certainly was very much vexed at having lost my evening, and particularly vexed at having relied on the little peasant-girl. It is quite likely that I might have exclaimed, as I walked along, "Plague upon my friend, the priest, who goes and dines in town!" or some such words.
There was a smile in the assembly, but not such as to attract the president's attention.
P.--You know that the priest of Brechy was dining out that day?
M. Magloire rose, and said,--
"It is through us, sir, that the accused has found out this fact. When he told us how he had spent the evening, we went to see the priest at Brechy, who told us how it came about that neither he nor his old servant was at the parsonage. At our request the priest has been summoned. We shall also produce another priest, who at that time passed the Marshalls' Cross-roads, and was the one whom the little girl had seen."
Having made a sign to counsel to sit down again, the president once more turns to the accused.
P.--The woman Courtois who met you deposes that you looked very curious. You did not speak to her: you were in great haste to escape from her.
A.--The night was much too dark for the woman to see my face. She asked me to render her a slight service, and I did so. I did not speak to her, because I had nothing to say to her. I did not leave her suddenly, but only got ahead of her, because her ass walked very slowly.
At a sign from the president, the ushers raise the red cloth which cover the objects on the table.
Great curiosity is manifested by the whole audience; and all rise, and stretch their necks to see better. On the table are displayed clothes, a pair of velveteen trousers, a shooting-jacket of maroon-colored velveteen, an old straw hat, and a pair of dun-colored leather boots. By their side lie a double-barrelled gun, packages of cartridges, two bowls filled with small-shot, and, finally, a large china basin, with a dark sediment at the bottom.
P.--(Showing these objects to the accused.) Are those the clothes which you wore the evening of the crime?
A.--Yes, sir.
P.--A curious costume in which to visit a venerable ecclesiastic, and to perform religious duties.
A.--The priest at Brechy was my friend. Our intimacy will explain, even if it does not justify, the liberty I took.
P.--Do you also recognize this basin? The water has been allowed to evaporate, and the residue alone remains there on the bottom.
A.--It is true, that, when the magistrate appeared at my house, he found there the basin full of dark water, which was thick with half-burnt _debris_. He asked me about this water, and I did not hesitate a moment to tell him that I had washed my hands in it the evening before, after my return home.
Is it not evident, that if I had been guilty, my first effort would have been to put every evidence of my crime out of the way? And yet this circumstance is looked upon as the strongest evidence of my guilt, and the prosecution produces it as the most serious charge against me.
P.--It is very strong and serious indeed.
A.--Well, nothing can be more easily explained than that. I am a great smoker. When I left home the evening of the crime, I took cigars in abundance; but, when I was about to light one, I found that I had no matches.
M. Magloire rises, and says,--
"And I wish to point out that this is not one of those explanations which are invented, after the fact, to meet the necessities of a doubtful case. We have absolute and overwhelming proof of it. M. de Boiscoran did not have the little match-box which he usually carries about him, at that time, because he had left it at M. de Chandore's house, on the mantelpiece, where I have seen it, and where it still is."
P.--That is sufficient, M. Magloire. Let the defendant go on.
A.--I wanted to smoke; and so I resorted to the usual expedient, which all sportsmen know. I tore open one of my cartridges, put, instead of the lead, a piece of paper inside, and set it on fire.
P.--And thus you get a light?
A.--Not always, but certainly in one case out of three.
P.--And the operation blackens the hands?
A.--Not the operation itself. But, when I had lit my cigar, I could not throw away the burning paper as it was: I might have kindled a regular fire.
P.--In the marshes?
A.--But, sir, I smoked five or six cigars during the evening, which means that I had to repeat the operation a dozen times at least, and in different places,--in the woods and on the high-road. Each time I quenched the fire with my fingers; and, as the powder is always greasy, my hands naturally became soon as black as those of a charcoal-burner.
The accused gives this explanation in a perfectly natural but still rather excited manner, which seems to make a great impression.
P.--Let us go on to your gun. Do you recognize it?
A.--Yes, sir. May I look at it?
P.--Yes.
The accused takes up the gun with feverish eagerness, snaps the two cocks, and puts one of his fingers inside the barrels.
He turns crimson, and, bending down to his counsel, says a few words to them so quickly and so low, that they do not reach us.
P.--What is the matter?
M. MAGLOIRE.--(Rising.) A fact has become patent which at once establishes the innocence of M. de Boiscoran. By providential intercession, his servant Anthony had cleaned the gun two days before the day of the crime. It appears now that one of the barrels is still clean, and in good condition. Hence it cannot be M. de Boiscoran who has fired twice at Count Claudieuse.
During this time the accused has gone up to the table on which the objects are lying. He wraps his handkerchief around the ramrod, slips it into one of the barrels, draws it out again, and shows that it is hardly soiled.
The whole audience is in a state of great excitement.
P.--Do the same thing to the other barrel.
The accused does it. The handkerchief remains clean.
P.--You see, and still you have told us that you had burnt, perhaps, a dozen cartridges to light your cigars. But the prosecution had foreseen this objection, and they are prepared to meet it. Sheriff, bring in the witness, Maucroy.
Our readers all know this gentleman, whose beautiful collection of weapons, sporting-articles, and fishing-tackle, is one of the ornaments of our great Square. He is dressed up, and without hesitation takes the required oath.
P.--Repeat your deposition with regard to this gun.
WITNESS.--It is an excellent gun, and very costly: such guns are not made in France, where people are too economical.
At this answer the whole audience laughs. M. Maucroy is not exactly famous for cheap bargains. Even some of the jurymen can hardly control their laughter.
P.--Never mind your reflections on that object. Tell us only what you know about the peculiarities of this gun.
WITNESS.--Well, thanks to a peculiar arrangement of the cartridges, and thanks, also, to the special nature of the fulminating material, the barrels hardly ever become foul.
A.--(Eagerly.) You are mistaken, sir. I have myself cleaned my gun frequently; and I have, just on the contrary, found the barrels extremely foul.
WITNESS.--Because you had fired too often. But I mean to say that you can use up two or three cartridges without a trace being left in the barrels.
A.--I deny that positively.
P.--(To witness.) And if a dozen cartridges were burnt?
WITNESS.--Oh, then, the barrels would be very foul.
P.--Examine the barrels, and tell us what you see.
WITNESS.--(After a minute examination.) I declare that two cartridges cannot have been used since the gun was cleaned.
P.--(To the accused.) Well, what becomes of that dozen cartridges which you have used up to light your cigars, and which had blackened your hands so badly?
M. MAGLOIRE.--The question is too serious to be left entirely in the hands of a single witness.
THE PROSECUTING ATTORNEY.--We only desire the truth. It is easy to make an experiment.
WITNESS.--Oh, certainly!
P.--Let it be done.
Witness puts a cartridge into each barrel, and goes to the window to explode them. The sudden explosion is followed by the screams of several ladies.
WITNESS.--(Returning, and showing that the barrels are no more foul than they were before.) Well, you see I was right.
P.--(To the accused.) You see this circumstance on which you relied so securely, so far from helping you, only proves that your explanation of the blackened state of your hands was a falsehood.
Upon the president's order, witness is taken out, and the examination of the accused is continued.
P.--What were your relations with Count Claudieuse?
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 assembled 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.