CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE TRIAL.
Political trials are all much alike, and this of Fanfar was noexception. On the day that it was to take place the pretended assassinand his pretended accomplice (that is to say Fanfar), were led to thecourt-room, where the magistrates, in their red robes and ermine, wereseated. The newspapers, while attacking Fanfar furiously, had notomitted to mention that the accused was excessively handsome. Thisnaturally brought a large number of women to the trial, and when theprisoner appeared, there was a low hum of admiration and surprise.Fanfar's companion, the man of whom Fanfar had made, it was said, atool, excited neither admiration nor sympathy. Fanfar looked at him onceand turned away in disgust.
It is now the proper time to say that this man, whom Cyprien had chosento play the part of regicide, was none other than Fanfar's former enemy,Robeccal himself, who had been found in the closet and liberated byCyprien.
This man had fallen so low that it mattered little to him what he did.The lacquey Cyprien profited by this mood, and in a short time obtainedthe result he desired.
To the declaration of the accused, who had been found secreted in theTuileries, Fanfar replied with contempt. He told who this man was, andthe crimes of which he had been guilty. All this, however, by no meansproved that he himself was innocent of participation in the crime.Fanfar had not mentioned the affair of the deserted house, for he didnot wish his sister's name to appear. This was a great relief toRobeccal, who, in spite of the manner in which he had been treated by LaRoulante, did not wish to get her into trouble.
The trial took its course. Robeccal wept and expressed great penitence,said that he loved the king, etc. All this produced an excellent effecton the jury, who considered the fellow a little simple.
Then came Fanfar's turn. He stood with arms folded on his breast, andonce turned and looked toward the end of the court-room. He probably sawwhat he wished, for he smiled, and a light came into his eyes. Then helooked again at the President, and waited. In reality there was no othercharge against him than the persistent declaration of Robeccal, but thiswas by the judges considered quite proof enough of his culpability.
"You belong to a secret association, do you not?" asked the judge.
"I am a Frenchman," answered Fanfar, "and like others of this heroicnation claim liberty of thought and action. Do you call France a secretsociety?"
The President reproved Fanfar for this speech, and called him in hisanger an assassin. The young man replied, in a voice of great feeling:
"Only those," he said, "should be called assassins who have cut thethroat of France and plucked a blood-stained crown from the men!"
There was a great tumult. "Bravo! Fanfar," said a voice among theaudience.
Naturally a dozen innocent men were accused of uttering this incendiaryexclamation, while Gudel, in a quiet livery, was not interfered with.Irene de Salves never moved her eyes from Fanfar. Finally, quiet wasrestored.
"Mr. President," said Fanfar, "my father fell in the French frontier,fighting against the Cossacks and the emigres. There are no assassins inour family!"
From this moment the trial went on rapidly. The sentence was a foregoneconclusion.
Robeccal was condemned to death. Fanfar, under the name of JacquesFougere, was sentenced to the galleys for life.
But just as the sentenced was pronounced, a singular event occurred.Fanfar rose and opened his lips as if to speak, extended his arm, andfell full length on the floor. Cries of astonishment arose from thecrowd.
"He has killed himself!" cried some.
"He has been poisoned!" said others.
Irene hastened to find Gudel. She had seen him near the door, but he hadvanished. The crowd departed, saying to each other, sadly:
"He is dead!"
Robeccal was carried off more dead than alive. His sentence hadfrightened him. Perhaps he had not unbounded confidence in the honestpeople who had employed him.