VI.
There was nothing more to be done for the magistrate, the commonwealthattorney, or the mayor. The doctor might assuredly have used more politelanguage; but people were accustomed to his brutal ways; for it issurprising with what readiness men are tolerated in France, under thepretext that they are as they are, and that they must be taken as theyare. The three gentlemen, therefore, left the room, after having bidfarewell to the countess, and after having promised to send the countnews of all that might be discovered.
The fire was going out for want of fuel. A few hours had sufficed todestroy all that the hard work and incessant cares of many years hadaccomplished. This charming and much envied estate presented now nothingbut a few half calcined walls, heaps of black and gray ashes, and stillglowing timbers, from which columns of smoke were slowly rising upward.Thanks to Capt. Parenteau, all that they had been able to save had beencarried to a distance, and safely stored away under the shelter of theruins of the old castle. There, furniture and other articles were piledup pell-mell. There, carts and agricultural machines were standingabout, empty casks, and sacks of oats and rye. There, also, the cattlewere gathered, that had been drawn from their stalls with infinitelabor, and at great risk of life,--horses, oxen, some sheep, and adozen cows, who lowed piteously. Few of the people had left as yet. Withgreater zeal than ever the firemen, aided by the peasants, deluged theremains of the dwelling-house with water. They had nothing to fearfrom the fire; but they desired to keep the bodies of their unfortunatecompanions from being entirely consumed.
"What a terrible scourge fire is!" said M. Seneschal.
Neither M. Galpin nor the mayor made any answer. They also felt theirhearts oppressed by the sad sight before them, in spite of all theintense excitement before; for a fire is nothing as long as the feverishexcitement, and the hope of saving something, continue to keep us up,and as long as the red flames illumine the horizon; but the next day,when all is over, then we realize the extent of the misfortune.
The firemen recognized the mayor, and greeted him with cheers. He wentrapidly towards them; and, for the first time since the alarm had beenraised, the magistrate and the attorney were alone. They were standingclose by each other, and for a moment kept silent, while each one triedto read in the other's eyes the secret of his thoughts. At last M.Daubigeon asked,--
"Well?"
M. Galpin trembled.
"This is a fearful calamity," he said.
"What is your opinion?"
"Ah! do I know it myself? I have lost my head: the whole thing looks tome like a nightmare."
"You cannot really believe that M. de Boiscoran is guilty?"
"I believe nothing. My reason tells me he is innocent. I feel he must beinnocent; and yet I see terrible evidence rising against him."
The attorney was overwhelmed.
"Alas!" he said, "why did you, contrary to everybody's opinion, insistupon examining Cocoleu, a poor idiotic wretch?"
But the magistrate remonstrated--
"You do not mean to reproach me, sir, for having followed the impulsesof my conscience?"
"I reproach you for nothing."
"A horrible crime has been committed; and my duty compelled me to do allthat lies in the power of man to discover the culprit."
"Yes; and the man who is accused of the crime is your friend, and onlyyesterday you spoke of his friendship as your best chance of success inlife."
"Sir?"
"Are you surprised to find me so well informed? Ah, you do not knowthat nothing escapes the idle curiosity of a village. I know that yourdearest hope was to become a member of M. de Boiscoran's family, andthat you counted upon him to back you in your efforts to obtain the handof one of his cousins."
"I do not deny that."
"Unfortunately, you have been tempted by the prestige you might gainin a great and famous trial. You have laid aside all prudence; and yourprojects are forgotten. Whether M. de Boiscoran is innocent or guilty,his family will never forgive you your interference. If he is guilty,they will blame you for having handed him over to justice: if he isinnocent, they will blame you even more for having suspected him."
M. Galpin hung his head as if to conceal his trouble. Then he asked,--
"And what would you do in my place?"
"I would withdraw from the case, although it is rather late."
"If I did so, I should risk my career."
"Even that would be better for you than to engage in an affair in whichyou cannot feel the calmness nor the impartiality which are the firstand indispensable virtues of an upright magistrate."
The latter was becoming impatient. He exclaimed,--
"Sir, do you think I am a man to be turned aside from my duty byconsiderations of friendship or personal interest?"
"I said nothing of the kind."
"Did you not see just now how I carried on the inquiry? Did you see mestart when Cocoleu first mentioned M. de Boiscoran's name? If he haddenounced any one else, I should probably have let the matter restthere. But precisely because M. de Boiscoran is a friend of mine,and because I have great expectations from him, I have insisted andpersisted, and I do so still."
The commonwealth attorney shrugged his shoulders.
"That is it exactly," he said. "Because M. de Boiscoran is a friend ofyours, you are afraid of being accused of weakness; and you are goingto be hard, pitiless, unjust even, against him. Because you had greatexpectations from him, you will insist upon finding him guilty. And youcall yourself impartial?"
M. Galpin assumed all his usual rigidity, and said solemnly,--
"I am sure of myself!"
"Have a care!"
"My mind is made up, sir."
It was time for M. Seneschal to join them again: he returned,accompanied by Capt. Parenteau.
"Well, gentlemen," he asked, "what have you resolved?"
"We are going to Boiscoran," replied the magistrate.
"What! Immediately?"
"Yes: I wish to find M. de Boiscoran in bed. I am so anxious about it,that I shall do without my clerk."
Capt. Parenteau bowed, and said,--
"Your clerk is here, sir: he was but just inquiring for you." Thereuponhe called out as loud as he could,--
"Mechinet, Mechinet!"
A small gray-haired man, jovial and cheerful, came running up, and atonce proceeded to tell at full length how a neighbor had told him whathad happened, and how the magistrate had left town, whereupon he, also,had started on foot, and come after him as fast as he could.
"Now will you go to Boiscoran?" asked the mayor.
"I do not know yet. Mechinet will have to look for some conveyance."
Quick like lightning, the clerk was starting off, when M. Seneschal heldhim back, saying,--
"Don't go. I place my horse and my carriage at your disposal. Any one ofthese peasants can drive you. Capt. Parenteau and I will get into somefarmer's wagon, and thus get back to Sauveterre; for we ought to be backas soon as possible. I have just heard alarming news. There may be somedisorder. The peasant-women who attend the market have brought in mostexciting reports, and exaggerated the calamities of last night. Theyhave started reports that ten or twelve men have been killed, and thatthe incendiary, M. de Boiscoran, has been arrested. The crowd has goneto poor Guillebault's widow; and there have been demonstrations beforethe houses of several of the principal inhabitants of Sauveterre."
In ordinary times, M. Seneschal would not have intrusted his famoushorse, Caraby, for any thing in the world, to the hands of a stranger.He considered it the best horse in the province. But he was evidentlyterribly upset, and betrayed it in his manner, and by the very effortshe made to regain his official dignity and self-possession.
He made a sign, and his carriage was brought up, all ready. But, when heasked for somebody to drive, no one came forward. All these good peoplewho had spent the night abroad were in great haste to return home, wheretheir cattle required their presence. When young Ribot saw the othershesitate, he said,--
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br /> "Well, I'll drive the justice."
And, taking hold of the whip and the reins, he took his seat on thefront-bench, while the magistrate, the commonwealth attorney, and theclerk filled the vehicle.
"Above all, take care of Caraby," begged M. Seneschal, who at the lastmoment felt almost overcome with anxiety for his favorite.
"Don't be afraid, sir," replied the young man, as he started the horse."If I strike too hard, M. Mechinet will stop me."
This Mechinet, the magistrate's clerk, was almost a power in Sauveterre;and the greatest personages there paid their court to him. His officialduties were of very humble nature, and ill paid; but he knew how to ekeout his income by other occupations, of which the court took no notice;and these added largely both to his importance in the community and tohis modest income.
As he was a skilful lithographer, he printed all the visiting-cardswhich the people of Sauveterre ordered at the principal printing-officeof Sauveterre, where "The Independent" was published. An ableaccountant, he kept books and made up accounts for some of theprincipal merchants in town. Some of the country people who were fond oflitigation came to him for legal advice; and he drew up all kinds of lawpapers. For many years now, he had been director of the firemen's band,and manager of the Orpheon. He was a correspondent of certain Parissocieties, and thus obtained free admission to the theatre not only, butalso to the sacred precincts behind the scenes. Finally he was alwaysready to give writing-lessons, French lessons to little girls, ormusic-lessons on the flute and the horn, to amateurs.
These varied talents had drawn upon him the hostility of all the otherteachers and public servants of the community, especially that of themayor's clerk, and the clerks of the bank and great institutions ofSauveterre. But all these enemies he had gradually conquered by theunmistakable superiority of his ability; so that they fell in with theuniversal habit, and, when any thing special happened, said to eachother,--
"Let us go and consult Mechinet."
He himself concealed, under an appearance of imperturbable good nature,the ambition by which he was devoured: he wanted to become rich, and torise in the world. In fact, Mechinet was a diplomat, working in secret,but as cunning as Talleyrand. He had succeeded already in making himselfthe one great personage of Sauveterre. The town was full of him; nothingwas done without him; and yet he had not an enemy in the place.
The fact is, people were afraid of him, and dreaded his terrible tongue.Not that he had ever injured anybody, he was too wise for that; butthey knew the harm he might do, if he chose, as he was master of everyimportant secret in Sauveterre, and the best informed man in town asregarded all their little intrigues, their private foibles, and theirdark antecedents.
This gave him quite an exceptional position. As he was unmarried,he lived with his sisters, the Misses Mechinet, who were the bestdressmakers in town, and, moreover, devout members of all kinds ofreligious societies. Through them he heard all that was going on insociety, and was able to compare the current gossip with what he heardin court, or at the newspaper office. Thus he could say pleasantly,--
"How could any thing escape me, when I have the church and the press,the court and the theatre, to keep me informed?"
Such a man would have considered himself disgraced if he had not knownevery detail of M. de Boiscoran's private affairs. He did not hesitate,therefore, while the carriage was rolling along on an excellent road, inthe fresh spring morning, to explain to his companions the "case," as hecalled it, of the accused nobleman.
M. de Boiscoran, called Jacques by his friends, was rarely on hisestate, and then only staid a month or so there. He was living in Paris,where his family owned a comfortable house in University Street. Hisparents were still alive.
His father, the Marquis de Boiscoran, the owner of a large landedestate, a deputy under Louis Philippe, a representative in 1848, hadwithdrawn from public life when the Second Empire was established,and spent, since that time, all his money, and all his energies, incollecting rare old books, and especially costly porcelain, on which hehad written a monograph.
His mother, a Chalusse by birth, had enjoyed the reputation of being oneof the most beautiful and most gifted ladies at the court of the CitizenKing. At a certain period in her life, unfortunately, slander hadattacked her; and about 1845 or 1846, it was reported that she had hada remarkable affair with a young lawyer of distinction, who had sincebecome one of the austerest and most renowned judges. As she grew old,the marchioness devoted herself more and more to politics, as otherwomen become pious. While her husband boasted that he had not reada newspaper for ten years, she had made her _salon_ a kind ofparliamentary centre, which had its influence on political affairs.
Although Jacques de Boiscoran's parents were still alive, he possesseda considerable fortune of his own--five or six thousand dollars a year.This fortune, which consisted of the Chateau of Boiscoran, the farms,meadows, and forests belonging to it, had been left to him by one of hisuncles, the oldest brother of his father, who had died a widower, andchildless, in 1868. M. de Boiscoran was at this moment about twenty-sixor twenty-seven years old, dark complexion, tall, strong, well made, notexactly a handsome man, but having, what was worth more, one of thosefrank, intelligent faces which prepossess one at first sight.
His character was less well known at Sauveterre than his person. Thosewho had had any business with him described him as an honorable, uprightman: his companions spoke of him as cheerful and gay, fond of pleasure,and always in good humor. At the time of the Prussian invasion, he hadbeen made a captain of one of the volunteer companies of the district.He had led his men bravely under fire, and conducted himself so well onthe battlefield, that Gen. Chanzy had rewarded him, when wounded, withthe cross of the legion of honor.
"And such a man should have committed such a crime at Valpinson," saidM. Daubigeon to the magistrate. "No, it is impossible! And no doubt hewill very easily scatter all our doubts to the four winds."
"And that will be done at once," said young Ribot; "for here we are."
In many of the provinces of France the name of _chateau_ is given toalmost any little country-house with a weathercock on its pointed roof.But Boiscoran was a real chateau. It had been built towards the endof the seventeenth century, in wretched taste, but massively, like afortress. Its position is superb. It is surrounded on all sides by woodsand forests; and at the foot of the sloping garden flows a little river,merrily splashing over its pebbly bed, and called the Magpie on accountof its perpetual babbling.