CHAPTER XI.
It was indeed the Count de Commarin, though more like his shadow. Hishead, usually carried so high, leant upon his chest; his figure wasbent; his eyes had no longer their accustomed fire; his hands trembled.The extreme disorder of his dress rendered more striking still thechange which had come over him. In one night, he had grown twenty yearsolder. This man, yesterday so proud of never having bent to a storm,was now completely shattered. The pride of his name had constituted hisentire strength; that humbled, he seemed utterly overwhelmed. Everythingin him gave way at once; all his supports failed him at the same time.His cold, lifeless gaze revealed the dull stupor of his thoughts.He presented such a picture of utter despair that the investigatingmagistrate slightly shuddered at the sight. M. Tabaret lookedfrightened, and even the clerk seemed moved.
"Constant," said M. Daburon quickly, "go with M. Tabaret, and see ifthere's any news at the Prefecture."
The clerk left the room, followed by the detective, who went awayregretfully. The count had not noticed their presence; he paid noattention to their departure.
M. Daburon offered him a seat, which he accepted with a sad smile. "Ifeel so weak," said he, "you must excuse my sitting."
Apologies to an investigating magistrate! What an advance incivilisation, when the nobles consider themselves subject to the law,and bow to its decrees! Every one respects justice now-a-days, and fearsit a little, even when only represented by a simple and conscientiousinvestigating magistrate.
"You are, perhaps, too unwell, count," said the magistrate, "to give methe explanations I had hoped for."
"I am better, thank you," replied M. de Commarin, "I am as well as couldbe expected after the shock I have received. When I heard of the crimeof which my son is accused, and of his arrest, I was thunderstruck.I believed myself a strong man; but I rolled in the dust. My servantsthought me dead. Why was it not so? The strength of my constitution,my physician tells me, was all that saved me; but I believe that heavenwishes me to live, that I may drink to the bitter dregs my cup ofhumiliation."
He stopped suddenly, nearly choked by a flow of blood that rose to hismouth.
The investigating magistrate remained standing near the table, almostafraid to move.
After a few moments' rest, the count found relief, andcontinued,--"Unhappy man that I am! ought I not to have expected it?Everything comes to light sooner or later. I am punished for my greatsin,--pride. I thought myself out of reach of the thunderbolt; and Ihave been the means of drawing down the storm upon my house. Albert anassassin! A Viscount de Commarin arraigned before a court of assize! Ah,sir, punish me, also; for I alone and long ago, laid the foundation ofthis crime. Fifteen centuries of spotless fame end with me in infamy."
M. Daburon considered Count de Commarin's conduct unpardonable, and haddetermined not to spare him.
He had expected to meet a proud, haughty noble, almost unmanageable; andhe had resolved to humble his arrogance.
Perhaps the harsh treatment he had received of old from the Marchionessd'Arlange had given him, unconsciously, a slight grudge against thearistocracy.
He had vaguely thought of certain rather severe remarks, which were toovercome the old nobleman, and bring him to a sense of his position.
But when he found himself in the presence of such a sincere repentance,his indignation changed to profound pity; and he began to wonder how hecould assuage the count's grief.
"Write, sir," continued M. de Commarin with an exaltation of which hedid not seem capable ten minutes before,--"write my avowal and suppressnothing. I have no longer need of mercy nor of tenderness. What haveI to fear now? Is not my disgrace public? Must not I, Count Rheteaude Commarin appear before the tribunal, to proclaim the infamy of ourhouse? Ah! all is lost now, even honour itself. Write, sir; for I wishthat all the world shall know that I am the most deserving of blame. Butthey shall also know that the punishment has been already terrible, andthat there was no need for this last and awful trial."
The count stopped for a moment, to concentrate and arrange his memory.
He soon continued, in a firmer voice, and adapting his tone to what hehad to say, "When I was of Albert's age, sir, my parents made me marry,in spite of my protestations, the noblest and purest of young girls. Imade her the most unhappy of women. I could not love her. I cherished amost passionate love for a mistress, who had trusted herself to me, andwhom I had loved for a long time. I found her rich in beauty, purity andmind. Her name was Valerie. My heart is, so to say, dead and cold in me,sir, but, ah! when I pronounce that name, it still has a great effectupon me. In spite of my marriage, I could not induce myself to part fromher, though she wished me to. The idea of sharing my love with anotherwas revolting to her. No doubt she loved me then. Our relationscontinued. My wife and my mistress became mothers at nearly the sametime. This coincidence suggested to me the fatal idea of sacrificingmy legitimate son to his less fortunate brother. I communicated thisproject to Valerie. To my great surprise, she refused it with horror.Already the maternal instinct was aroused within her; she would not beseparated from her child. I have preserved, as a monument of my folly,the letters which she wrote to me at that time. I re-read them only lastnight. Ah! why did I not listen to both her arguments and her prayers?It was because I was mad. She had a sort of presentiment of the evilwhich overwhelms me to-day. But I came to Paris;--I had absolutecontrol over her. I threatened to leave her, never to see her again. Sheyielded; and my valet and Claudine Lerouge were charged with this wickedsubstitution. It is, therefore, the son of my mistress who bears thetitle of Viscount de Commarin, and who was arrested but a short timeago."
M. Daburon had not hoped for a declaration so clear, and above allso prompt. He secretly rejoiced for the young advocate whose noblesentiments had quite captivated him.
"So, count," said he, "you acknowledge that M. Noel Gerdy is the issueof your legitimate marriage, and that he alone is entitled to bear yourname?"
"Yes, sir. Alas! I was then more delighted at the success of my projectthan I should have been over the most brilliant victory. I was sointoxicated with the joy of having my Valerie's child there, near me,that I forgot everything else. I had transferred to him a part of mylove for his mother; or, rather, I loved him still more, if that bepossible. The thought that he would bear my name, that he would inheritall my wealth, to the detriment of the other, transported me withdelight. The other, I hated; I could not even look upon him. I do notrecollect having kissed him twice. On this point Valerie, who wasvery good, reproached me severely. One thing alone interfered with myhappiness. The Countess de Commarin adored him whom she believed to beher son, and always wished to have him on her knees. I cannot expresswhat I suffered at seeing my wife cover with kisses and caresses thechild of my mistress. But I kept him from her as much as I could; andshe, poor woman! not understanding what was passing within me, imaginedthat I was doing everything to prevent her son loving her. She died,sir, with this idea, which poisoned her last days. She died of sorrow;but saint-like, without a complaint, without a murmur, pardon upon herlips and in her heart."
Though greatly pressed for time, M. Daburon did not venture to interruptthe count, to ask him briefly for the immediate facts of the case. Heknew that fever alone gave him this unnatural energy, to which at anymoment might succeed the most complete prostration. He feared, if hestopped him for an instant, that he would not have strength enough toresume.
"I did not shed a single tear," continued the count. "What had she beenin my life? A cause of sorrow and remorse. But God's justice, in advanceof man's was about to take a terrible revenge. One day, I was warnedthat Valerie was deceiving me, and had done so for a long time. I couldnot believe it at first; it seemed to me impossible, absurd. I wouldhave sooner doubted myself than her. I had taken her from a garret,where she was working sixteen hours a day to earn a few pence; she owedall to me. I had made her so much a part of myself that I could notcredit her being false. I could not induce myself to feel jealous.However, I inquired in
to the matter; I had her watched; I even acted thespy upon her myself. I had been told the truth. This unhappy woman hadanother lover, and had had him for more than ten years. He was a cavalryofficer. In coming to her house he took every precaution. He usuallyleft about midnight; but sometimes he came to pass the night, and inthat case went away in the early morning. Being stationed near Paris, hefrequently obtained leave of absence and came to visit her; and he wouldremain shut up in her apartments until his time expired. One evening,my spies brought me word that he was there. I hastened to the house. Mypresence did not embarrass her. She received me as usual, throwing herarms about my neck. I thought that my spies had deceived me; and I wasgoing to tell her all, when I saw upon the piano a buckskin glove, suchas are worn by soldiers. Not wishing a scene, and not knowing to whatexcess my anger might carry me, I rushed out of the place without sayinga word. I have never seen her since. She wrote to me. I did not open herletters. She attempted to force her way into my presence, but in vain;my servants had orders that they dared not ignore."
Could this be the Count de Commarin, celebrated for his haughtycoldness, for his reserve so full of disdain, who spoke thus, who openedhis whole life without restrictions, without reserve? And to whom? To astranger.
But he was in one of those desperate states, allied to madness, when allreflection leaves us, when we must find some outlet for a too powerfulemotion. What mattered to him this secret, so courageously borne forso many years? He disburdened himself of it, like the poor man, who,weighed down by a too heavy burden, casts it to the earth withoutcaring where it falls, nor how much it may tempt the cupidity of thepassers-by.
"Nothing," continued he, "no, nothing, can approach to what I thenendured. My very heartstrings were bound up in that woman. She was likea part of myself. In separating from her, it seemed to me that I wastearing away a part of my own flesh. I cannot describe the furiouspassions her memory stirred within me. I scorned her and longed for herwith equal vehemence. I hated her, and I loved her. And, to this day,her detestable image has been ever present to my imagination. Nothingcan make me forget her. I have never consoled myself for her loss. Andthat is not all, terrible doubts about Albert occurred to me. Was Ireally his father? Can you understand what my punishment was, when Ithought to myself, 'I have perhaps sacrificed my own son to the childof an utter stranger.' This thought made me hate the bastard whocalled himself Commarin. To my great affection for him succeeded anunconquerable aversion. How often, in those days I struggled againstan insane desire to kill him! Since then, I have learned to subdue myaversion; but I have never completely mastered it. Albert, sir, has beenthe best of sons. Nevertheless, there has always been an icy barrierbetween us, which he was unable to explain. I have often been on thepoint of appealing to the tribunals, of avowing all, of reclaiming mylegitimate heir; but regard for my rank has prevented me. I recoiledbefore the scandal. I feared the ridicule or disgrace that would attachto my name; and yet I have not been able to save it from infamy."
The old nobleman remained silent, after pronouncing these words. In afit of despair, he buried his face in his hands, and two great tearsrolled silently down his wrinkled cheeks.
In the meantime, the door of the room opened slightly, and the tallclerk's head appeared.
M. Daburon signed to him to enter, and then addressing M. de Commarin,he said in a voice rendered more gentle by compassion: "Sir, in the eyesof heaven, as in the eyes of society, you have committed a great sin;and the results, as you see, are most disastrous. It is your duty torepair the evil consequences of your sin as much as lies in your power."
"Such is my intention, sir, and, may I say so? my dearest wish."
"You doubtless understand me," continued M. Daburon.
"Yes, sir," replied the old man, "yes, I understand you."
"It will be a consolation to you," added the magistrate, "to learn thatM. Noel Gerdy is worthy in all respects of the high position that youare about to restore to him. He is a man of great talent, betterand worthier than any one I know. You will have a son worthy of hisancestors. And finally, no one of your family has disgraced it, sir, forViscount Albert is not a Commarin."
"No," rejoined the count quickly, "a Commarin would be dead at thishour; and blood washes all away."
The old nobleman's remark set the investigating magistrate thinkingprofoundly.
"Are you then sure," said he, "of the viscount's guilt?"
M. de Commarin gave the magistrate a look of intense surprise.
"I only arrived in Paris yesterday evening," he replied; "and I amentirely ignorant of all that has occurred. I only know that justicewould not proceed without good cause against a man of Albert's rank. Ifyou have arrested him, it is quite evident that you have something morethan suspicion against him,--that you possess positive proofs."
M. Daburon bit his lips, and, for a moment, could not conceal a feelingof displeasure. He had neglected his usual prudence, had moved tooquickly. He had believed the count's mind entirely upset; and now he hadaroused his distrust. All the skill in the world could not repair suchan unfortunate mistake. A witness on his guard is no longer a witness tobe depended upon; he trembles for fear of compromising himself, measuresthe weight of the questions, and hesitates as to his answers.
On the other hand, justice, in the form of a magistrate, is disposed todoubt everything, to imagine everything, and to suspect everybody.How far was the count a stranger to the crime at La Jonchere? Althoughdoubting Albert's paternity, he would certainly have made great effortsto save him. His story showed that he thought his honour in peril justas much as his son. Was he not the man to suppress, by every means, aninconvenient witness? Thus reasoned M. Daburon. And yet he could notclearly see how the Count de Commarin's interests were concerned in thematter. This uncertainty made him very uneasy.
"Sir," he asked, more sternly, "when were you informed of the discoveryof your secret?"
"Last evening, by Albert himself. He spoke to me of this sad story, in away which I now seek in vain to explain, unless--"
The count stopped short, as if his reason had been struck by theimprobability of the supposition which he had formed.
"Unless!--" inquired the magistrate eagerly.
"Sir," said the count, without replying directly, "Albert is a hero, ifhe is not guilty."
"Ah!" said the magistrate quickly, "have you, then, reason to think himinnocent?"
M. Daburon's spite was so plainly visible in the tone of his words thatM. de Commarin could and ought to have seen the semblance of an insult.He started, evidently offended, and rising, said: "I am now no more awitness for, than I was a moment ago a witness against. I desire only torender what assistance I can to justice, in accordance with my duty."
"Confound it," said M. Daburon to himself, "here I have offended himnow! Is this the way to do things, making mistake after mistake?"
"The facts are these," resumed the count. "Yesterday, after havingspoken to me of these cursed letters, Albert began to set a trap todiscover the truth,--for he still had doubts, Noel Gerdy not havingobtained the complete correspondence. An animated discussion arosebetween us. He declared his resolution to give way to Noel. I, on theother hand, was resolved to compromise the matter, cost what it might.Albert dared to oppose me. All my efforts to convert him to my viewswere useless. Vainly I tried to touch those chords in his breast which Isupposed the most sensitive. He firmly repeated his intention to retirein spite of me, declaring himself satisfied, if I would consent to allowhim a modest competence. I again attempted to shake him, by showing himthat his marriage, so ardently looked forward to for two years, would bebroken off by this blow. He replied that he felt sure of the constancyof his betrothed, Mademoiselle d'Arlange."
This name fell like a thunderbolt upon the ears of the investigatingmagistrate. He jumped in his chair. Feeling that his face was turningcrimson, he took up a large bundle of papers from his table, and,to hide his emotion, he raised them to his face, as though trying todecipher an illegible word. He beg
an to understand the difficult dutywith which he was charged. He knew that he was troubled like a child,having neither his usual calmness nor foresight. He felt that hemight commit the most serious blunders. Why had he undertaken thisinvestigation? Could he preserve himself quite free from bias? Did hethink his will would be perfectly impartial? Gladly would he put offto another time the further examination of the count; but could he?His conscience told him that this would be another blunder. He renewed,then, the painful examination.
"Sir," said he, "the sentiments expressed by the viscount are very fine,without doubt; but did he not mention Widow Lerouge?"
"Yes," replied the count, who appeared suddenly to brighten, as by theremembrance of some unnoticed circumstances,--"yes, certainly."
"He must have shown you that this woman's testimony rendered a strugglewith M. Gerdy impossible."
"Precisely; sir; and, aside from the question of duty, it was upon thatthat he based his refusal to follow my wishes."
"It will be necessary, count, for you to repeat to me very exactly allthat passed between the viscount and yourself. Appeal, then, I beseechyou, to your memory, and try to repeat his own words as nearly aspossible."
M. de Commarin could do so without much difficulty. For some littletime, a salutary reaction had taken place within him. His blood, excitedby the persistence of the examination, moved in its accustomed course.His brain cleared itself.
The scene of the previous evening was admirably presented to his memory,even to the most insignificant details. The sound of Albert's voice wasstill in his ears; he saw again his expressive gestures. As his storyadvanced, alive with clearness and precision, M. Daburon's convictionbecame more confirmed.
The magistrate turned against Albert precisely that which the day beforehad won the count's admiration.
"What wonderful acting!" thought he. "Tabaret is decidedly possessedof second sight. To his inconceivable boldness, this young man joins aninfernal cleverness. The genius of crime itself inspires him. It is amiracle that we are able to unmask him. How well everything was foreseenand arranged? How marvellously this scene with his father was broughtabout, in order to procure doubt in case of discovery? There is nota sentence which lacks a purpose, which does not tend to ward offsuspicion. What refinement of execution! What excessive care fordetails! Nothing is wanting, not even the great devotion of hisbetrothed. Has he really informed Claire? Probably I might find out;but I should have to see her again, to speak to her. Poor child! to lovesuch a man! But his plan is now fully exposed. His discussion with thecount was his plank of safety. It committed him to nothing, and gainedtime. He would of course raise objections, since they would only end bybinding him the more firmly in his father's heart. He could thus make amerit of his compliance, and would ask a reward for his weakness. And,when Noel returned to the charge, he would find himself in presence ofthe count, who would boldly deny everything, politely refuse to haveanything to do with him and would possibly have him driven out of thehouse, as an impostor and forger."
It was a strange coincidence, but yet easily explained, that M. deCommarin, while telling his story, arrived at the same ideas as themagistrate, and at conclusions almost identical. In fact, why thatpersistence with respect to Claudine? He remembered plainly, that, inhis anger, he had said to his son, "Mankind is not in the habit ofdoing such fine actions for its own satisfaction." That greatdisinterestedness was now explained.
When the count had ceased speaking, M. Daburon said: "I thank you, sir.I can say nothing positive; but justice has weighty reasons to believethat, in the scene which you have just related to me, Viscount Albertplayed a part previously arranged."
"And well arranged," murmured the count; "for he deceived me!"
He was interrupted by the entrance of Noel, who carried under his arm ablack shagreen portfolio, ornamented with his monogram.
The advocate bowed to the old gentleman, who in his turn rose andretired politely to the end of the room.
"Sir," said Noel, in an undertone to the magistrate, "you will find allthe letters in this portfolio. I must ask permission to leave you atonce, as Madame Gerdy's condition grows hourly more alarming."
Noel had raised his voice a little, in pronouncing these last words; andthe count heard them. He started, and made a great effort to restrainthe question which leaped from his heart to his lips.
"You must however give me a moment, my dear sir," replied themagistrate.
M. Daburon then quitted his chair, and, taking the advocate by the hand,led him to the count.
"M. de Commarin," said he, "I have the honour of presenting to you M.Noel Gerdy."
M. de Commarin was probably expecting some scene of this kind: for not amuscle of his face moved: he remained perfectly calm. Noel, on his side,was like a man who had received a blow on the head; he staggered, andwas obliged to seek support from the back of a chair.
Then these two, father and son, stood face to face, apparently deep inthought, but in reality examining one another with mutual distrust, eachstriving to gather something of the other's thoughts.
M. Daburon had augured better results from this meeting, which he hadbeen awaiting ever since the count's arrival. He had expected that thisabrupt presentation would bring about an intensely pathetic scene, whichwould not give his two witnesses time for reflection. The countwould open his arms: Noel would throw himself into them; and thisreconciliation would only await the sanction of the tribunals, to becomplete.
The coldness of the one, the embarrassment of the other, disconcertedhis plans. He therefore thought it necessary to intervene.
"Count," said he reproachfully, "remember that it was only a few minutesago that you admitted that M. Gerdy was your legitimate son."
M. de Commarin made no reply; to judge from his lack of emotion, hecould not have heard.
So Noel, summoning all his courage, ventured to speak first,--"Sir," hestammered, "I entertain no--"
"You may call me father," interrupted the haughty old man, in a tonewhich was by no means affectionate. Then addressing the magistrate hesaid: "Can I be of any further use to you, sir?"
"Only to hear your evidence read over," replied M. Daburon, "and to signit if you find everything correct. You can proceed, Constant," he added.
The tall clerk turned half round on his chair and commenced. He hada peculiar way of jabbering over what he had scrawled. He read veryquickly, all at a stretch, without paying the least attention to eitherfull stops or commas, questions or replies; but went on reading as longas his breath lasted. When he could go on no longer, he took a breath,and then continued as before. Unconsciously, he reminded one of a diver,who every now and then raises his head above water, obtains a supply ofair, and disappears again. Noel was the only one to listen attentivelyto the reading, which to unpractised ears was unintelligible. Itapprised him of many things which it was important for him to know. Atlast Constant pronounced the words, "In testimony whereof," etc., whichend all official reports in France.
He handed the pen to the count, who signed without hesitation. The oldnobleman then turned towards Noel.
"I am not very strong," he said; "you must therefore, my son,"emphasizing the word, "help your father to his carriage."
The young advocate advanced eagerly. His face brightened, as he passedthe count's arm through his own. When they were gone, M. Daburon couldnot resist a impulse of curiosity. He hastened to the door, which heopened slightly; and, keeping his body in the background that he mightnot himself be seen, he looked out into the passage. The count and Noelhad not yet reached the end. They were going slowly. The count seemed todrag heavily and painfully along; the advocate took short steps, bendingslightly towards his father; and all his movements were marked with thegreatest solicitude. The magistrate remained watching them until theypassed out of sight at the end of the gallery. Then he returned to hisseat, heaving a deep sigh.
"At least," thought he, "I have helped to make one person happy. The daywill not be entirely a bad one."
But he had no time to give way to his thoughts, the hours flew by soquickly. He wished to interrogate Albert as soon as possible; and he hadstill to receive the evidence of several of the count's servants, andthe report of the commissary of police charged with the arrest. Theservants who had been waiting their turn a long while were nowbrought in without delay, and examined separately. They had but littleinformation to give; but the testimony of each was so to say a freshaccusation. It was easy to see that all believed their master guilty.
Albert's conduct since the beginning of the fatal week, his least words,his most insignificant movements, were reported, commented upon, andexplained.
The man who lives in the midst of thirty servants is like an insect ina glass box under the magnifying glass of a naturalist. Not one of hisacts escapes their notice: he can scarcely have a secret of his own;and, if they cannot divine what it is, they at least know that he hasone. From morn till night he is the point of observation for thirtypairs of eyes, interested in studying the slightest changes in hiscountenance.
The magistrate obtained, therefore, an abundance of those frivolousdetails which seem nothing at first; but the slightest of which may, atthe trial, become a question of life or death.
By combining these depositions, reconciling them and putting them inorder, M. Daburon was able to follow his prisoner hour by hour from theSunday morning.
Directly Noel left, the viscount gave orders that all visitors should beinformed that he had gone into the country. From that moment, the wholehousehold perceived that something had gone wrong with him, that he wasvery much annoyed, or very unwell.
He did not leave his study on that day, but had his dinner brought up tohim. He ate very little,--only some soup, and a very thin fillet ofsole with white wine. While eating, he said to M. Contois, the butler:"Remind the cook to spice the sauce a little more, in future," and thenadded in a low tone, "Ah! to what purpose?" In the evening he dismissedhis servants from all duties, saying, "Go, and amuse yourselves." Heexpressly warned them not to disturb him unless he rang.
On the Monday, he did not get up until noon, although usually an earlyriser. He complained of a violent headache, and of feeling sick.He took, however a cup of tea. He ordered his brougham, but almostimmediately countermanded the order. Lubin, his valet, heard him say:"I am hesitating too much;" and a few moments later, "I must make up mymind." Shortly afterwards he began writing.
He then gave Lubin a letter to carry to Mademoiselle Claire d'Arlange,with orders to deliver it only to herself or to Mademoiselle Schmidt,the governess. A second letter, containing two thousand franc notes,was intrusted to Joseph, to be taken to the viscount's club. Josephno longer remembered the name of the person to whom the letter wasaddressed; but it was not a person of title. That evening, Albert onlytook a little soup, and remained shut up in his room.
He rose early on the Tuesday. He wandered about the house, as though hewere in great trouble, or impatiently awaiting something which did notarrive. On his going into the garden, the gardener asked his adviceconcerning a lawn. He replied, "You had better consult the count uponhis return."
He did not breakfast any more than the day before. About one o'clock, hewent down to stables, and caressed, with an air of sadness, his favoritemare, Norma. Stroking her neck, he said, "Poor creature! poor old girl!"
At three o'clock, a messenger arrived with a letter. The viscount tookit, and opened it hastily. He was then near the flower-garden. Twofootmen distinctly heard him say, "She cannot resist." He returned tothe house, and burnt the letter in the large stove in the hall.
As he was sitting down to dinner, at six o'clock, two of his friends,M. de Courtivois and the Marquis de Chouze, insisted upon seeing him,in spite of all orders. They would not be refused. These gentlemen wereanxious for him to join them in some pleasure party, but he declined,saying that he had a very important appointment.
At dinner he ate a little more than on the previous days. He even askedthe butler for a bottle of Chateau-Lafitte, the whole of which he drankhimself. While taking his coffee, he smoked a cigar in the dining room,contrary to the rules of the house. At half-past seven, according toJoseph and two footmen, or at eight according to the Swiss porter andLubin, the viscount went out on foot, taking an umbrella with him. Hereturned home at two o'clock in the morning, and at once dismissed hisvalet, who had waited up for him.
On entering the viscount's room on the Wednesday, the valet was struckwith the condition in which he found his master's clothes. They werewet, and stained with mud; the trousers were torn. He ventured to makea remark about them. Albert replied, in a furious manner, "Throw the oldthings in a corner, ready to be given away."
He appeared to be much better all that day. He breakfasted with a goodappetite; and the butler noticed that he was in excellent spirits. Hepassed the afternoon in the library, and burnt a pile of papers.
On the Thursday, he again seemed very unwell. He was scarcely able to goand meet the count. That evening, after his interview with his father,he went to his room looking extremely ill. Lubin wanted to run for thedoctor: he forbade him to do so, or to mention to any one that he wasnot well.
Such was the substance of twenty large pages, which the tall clerkhad covered with writing, without once turning his head to look at thewitnesses who passed by in their fine livery.
M. Daburon managed to obtain this evidence in less than two hours.Though well aware of the importance of their testimony, all theseservants were very voluble. The difficulty was, to stop them when theyhad once started. From all they said, it appeared that Albert was a verygood master,--easily served, kind and polite to his servants. Wonderfulto relate! there were found only three among them who did not appearperfectly delighted at the misfortune which had befallen the family.Two were greatly distressed. M. Lubin, although he had been an object ofespecial kindness, was not one of these.
The turn of the commissary of police had now come. In a few words, hegave an account of the arrest, already described by old Tabaret. He didnot forget to mention the one word "Lost," which had escaped Albert; tohis mind, it was a confession. He then delivered all the articles seizedin the Viscount de Commarin's apartments.
The magistrate carefully examined these things, and compared themclosely with the scraps of evidence gathered at La Jonchere. He soonappeared, more than ever, satisfied with the course he had taken.
He then placed all these material proofs upon his table, and coveredthem over with three or four large sheets of paper.
The day was far advanced; and M. Daburon had no more than sufficienttime to examine the prisoner before night. He now remembered that he hadtasted nothing since morning; and he sent hastily for a bottle of wineand some biscuits. It was not strength, however, that the magistrateneeded; it was courage. All the while that he was eating and drinking,his thoughts kept repeating this strange sentence, "I am about to appearbefore the Viscount de Commarin." At any other time, he would havelaughed at the absurdity of the idea, but, at this moment, it seemed tohim like the will of Providence.
"So be it," said he to himself; "this is my punishment."
And immediately he gave the necessary orders for Viscount Albert to bebrought before him.