III.
By this single phrase M. Galpin made himself master of the situation,and reduced the doctor to an inferior position, in which, it is true, hehad the mayor and the commonwealth attorney to bear him company. Therewas nothing now to be thought of, but the crime that had been committed,and the judge who was to punish the author. But he tried in vain toassume all the rigidity of his official air and that contempt for humanfeelings which has made justice so hateful to thousands. His whole beingwas impregnated with intense satisfaction, up to his beard, cut andtrimmed like the box-hedges of an old-fashioned garden.
"Well, doctor," he asked, "first of all, have you any objection to myquestioning your patient?"
"It would certainly be better for him to be left alone," growled Dr.Seignebos. "I have made him suffer enough this last hour; and I shalldirectly begin again cutting out the small pieces of lead which havehoneycombed his flesh. But if it must be"--
"It must be."
"Well, then, make haste; for the fever will set in presently."
M. Daubigeon could not conceal his annoyance. He called out,--
"Galpin, Galpin!"
The other man paid no attention. Having taken a note-book and a pencilfrom his pocket, he drew up close to the sick man's bed, and asked himin an undertone,--
"Are you strong enough, count, to answer my questions?"
"Oh, perfectly!"
"Then, pray tell me all you know of the sad events of to-night."
With the aid of his wife and Dr. Seignebos, the count raised himself onhis pillows, and began thus,--
"Unfortunately, the little I know will be of no use in aiding justice todiscover the guilty man. It may have been eleven o'clock, for I am noteven quite sure of the hour, when I had gone to bed, and just blown outmy candle: suddenly a bright light fell upon the window. I was amazed,and utterly confused; for I was in that state of sleepiness which is notyet sleep, but very much like it. I said to myself, 'What can this be?'but I did not get up: I only was roused by a great noise, like the crashof a falling wall; and then I jumped out of bed, and said to myself,'The house is on fire!' What increased my anxiety was the fact, whichI at once recollected, that there were in the courtyard, and all aroundthe house, some sixteen thousand bundles of dry wood, which had beencut last year. Half dressed, I rushed downstairs. I was very muchbewildered, I confess, and could hardly succeed in opening the outerdoor: still I did open it at last. But I had barely put my foot onthe threshold, when I felt in my right side, a little above the hip, afierce pain, and heard at the same time, quite close to me, a shot."
The magistrate interrupted him by a gesture.
"Your statement, count, is certainly remarkably clear. But there is onepoint we must try to establish. Were you really fired at the moment youshowed yourself at the door?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then the murderer must have been quite near on the watch. He must haveknown that the fire would bring you out; and he was lying in wait foryou."
"That was and still is my impression," declared the count.
M. Galpin turned to M. Daubigeon.
"Then," he said to him, "the murder is the principal fact with which wehave to do; and the fire is only an aggravating circumstance,--themeans which the criminal employed in order to succeed the better inperpetrating his crime."
Then, returning to the count, he said,--
"Pray go on."
"When I felt I was wounded," continued Count Claudieuse, "my firstimpulse was instinctively to rush forward to the place from which thegun seemed to have been fired at me. I had not proceeded three yards,when I felt the same pain once more in the shoulder and in the neck.This second wound was more serous than the first; for I lost myconsciousness, my head began to swim and I fell."
"You had not seen the murderer?"
"I beg your pardon. At the moment when I fell, I thought I saw a manrush forth from behind a pile of fagots, cross the courtyard, anddisappear in the fields."
"Would you recognize him?"
"No."
"But you saw how he was dressed: you can give me a description?"
"No, I cannot. I felt as if there was a veil before my eyes; and hepassed me like a shadow."
The magistrate could hardly conceal his disappointment.
"Never mind," he said, "we'll find him out. But go on, sir."
The count shook his head.
"I have nothing more to say," he replied. "I had fainted; and when Irecovered my consciousness, some hours later, I found myself here lyingon this bed."
M. Galpin noted down the count's answers with scrupulous exactness: whenhe had done, he asked again,--
"We must return to the details of the attack, and examine them minutely.Now, however, it is important to know what happened after you fell. Whocould tell us that?"
"My wife, sir."
"I thought so. The countess, no doubt, got up when you rose."
"My wife had not gone to bed."
The magistrate turned suddenly to the countess; and at a glance heperceived that her costume was not that of a lady who had been suddenlyroused from slumber by the burning of her house.
"I see," he said to himself.
"Bertha," the count went on to state, "our youngest daughter, who islying there on that bed, under the blanket, has the measles, and issuffering terribly. My wife was sitting up with her. Unfortunately thewindows of her room look upon the garden, on the side opposite to thatwhere the fire broke out."
"How, then, did the countess become aware of the accident?" asked themagistrate.
Without waiting for a more direct question, the countess came forwardand said,--
"As my husband has just told you, I was sitting up with my littleBertha. I was rather tired; for I had sat up the night before also, andI had begun to nod, when a sudden noise aroused me. I was not quite surewhether I had really heard such a noise; but just then a second shotwas heard. I left the room more astonished than frightened. Ah, sir! Thefire had already made such headway, that the staircase was as light asin broad day. I went down in great haste. The outer door was open. Iwent out; and there, some five or six yards from me, I saw, by thelight of the flames, the body of my husband lying on the ground. I threwmyself upon him; but he did not even hear me; his heart had ceased tobeat. I thought he was dead; I called for help; I was in despair."
M. Seneschal and M. Daubigeon trembled with excitement.
"Well, very well!" said M. Galpin, with an air of satisfaction,--"verywell done!"
"You know," continued the countess, "how hard it is to rousecountry-people. It seems to me I remained ever so long alone there,kneeling by the side of my husband. At last the brightness of the fireawakened some of the farm-hands, the workmen, and our servants. Theyrushed out, crying, 'Fire!' When they saw me, they ran up and helpedme carry my husband to a place of safety; for the danger was increasingevery minute. The fire was spreading with terrific violence, thanks toa furious wind. The barns were one vast mass of fire; the outbuildingswere burning; the distillery was in a blaze; and the roof of thedwelling-house was flaming up in various places. And there was not onecool head among them all. I was so utterly bewildered, that I forgot allabout my children; and their room was already in flames, when a brave,bold fellow rushed in, and snatched them from the very jaws of death. Idid not come to myself till Dr. Seignebos arrived, and spoke to me wordsof hope. This fire will probably ruin us; but what matters that, so longas my husband and my children are safe?"
Dr. Seignebos had more than once given utterance to his contemptuousimpatience: he did not appreciate these preliminary steps. The others,however, the mayor, the attorney, and even the servants, had hardlybeen able to suppress their excitement. He shrugged his shoulders, andgrowled between his teeth,--
"Mere formalities! How petty! How childish!"
After having taken off his spectacles, wiped them and replaced themtwenty times, he had sat down at the rickety table in the corner of theroom, and amused himself with arranging the fifteen or twenty s
hot hehad extracted from the count's wounds, in long lines or small circles.But, when the countess uttered her last words, he rose, and, turning toM. Galpin, said in a curt tone,--
"Now, sir, I hope you will let me have my patient again."
The magistrate was not a little incensed: there was reason enough,surely; and, frowning fiercely, he said,--
"I appreciate, sir, the importance of your duties; but mine are, Ithink, by no means less solemn nor less urgent."
"Oh!"
"Consequently you will be pleased, sir, to grant me five minutes more."
"Ten, if it must be, sir. Only I warn you that every minute henceforthmay endanger the life of my patient."
They had drawn near to each other, and were measuring each other withdefiant looks, which betrayed the bitterest animosity. They would surelynot quarrel at the bedside of a dying man? The countess seemed to fearsuch a thing; for she said reproachfully,--
"Gentlemen, I pray, gentlemen"--
Perhaps her intervention would have been of no avail, if M. Seneschaland M. Daubigeon had not stepped in, each addressing one of the twoadversaries. M. Galpin was apparently the most obstinate of the two;for, in spite of all, he began once more to question the count, andsaid,--
"I have only one more question to ask you, sir: Where and how were youstanding, where and how do you think the murderer was standing, at themoment when the crime was committed?"
"Sir," replied the count, evidently with a great effort, "I wasstanding, as I told you, on the threshold of my door, facing thecourtyard. The murderer must have been standing some twenty yards off,on my right, behind a pile of wood."
When he had written down the answer of the wounded man, the magistrateturned once more to the physician, and said,--
"You heard what was said, sir. It is for you now to aid justice bytelling us at what distance the murderer must have been when he fired."
"I don't guess riddles," replied the physician coarsely.
"Ah, have a care, sir!" said M. Galpin. "Justice, whom I here represent,has the right and the means to enforce respect. You are a physician,sir; and your science is able to answer my question with almostmathematical accuracy."
The physician laughed, and said,--
"Ah, indeed! Science has reached that point, has it? Which science?Medical jurisprudence, no doubt,--that part of our profession which isat the service of the courts, and obeys the judges' behests."
"Sir!"
But the doctor was not the man to allow himself to be defeated a secondtime. He went on coolly,--
"I know what you are going to say; there is no handbook of medicaljurisprudence which does not peremptorily settle the question you askme. I have studied these handbooks, these formidable weapons which yougentlemen of the bar know so well how to handle. I know the opinionsof a Devergie and an Orfila, I know even what Casper and Tardieu, anda host of others teach on that subject. I am fully aware that thesegentlemen claim to be able to tell you by the inch at what distancea shot has been fired. But I am not so skilful. I am only a poorcountry-practitioner, a simple healer of diseases. And before I give anopinion which may cost a poor devil his life, innocent though he be, Imust have time to reflect, to consult data, and to compare other casesin my practice."
He was so evidently right in reality, if not in form, that even M.Galpin gave way.
"It is merely as a matter of information that I request your opinion,sir," he replied. "Your real and carefully-considered professionalopinion will, of course, be given in a special statement."
"Ah, if that is the case!"
"Pray, inform me, then unofficially, what you think of the nature of thewounds of Count Claudieuse."
Dr. Seignebos settled his spectacles ceremoniously on his nose, and thenreplied,--
"My impression, so far as I am now able to judge, is that the count hasstated the facts precisely as they were. I am quite ready to believethat the murderer was lying in ambush behind one of the piles of wood,and at the distance which he has mentioned. I am also able to affirmthat the two shots were fired at different distances,--one much nearerthan the other. The proof of it lies in the nature of the wounds, one ofwhich, near the hip may be scientifically called"--
"But we know at what distance a ball is spent," broke in M. Seneschal,whom the doctor's dogmatic tone began to annoy.
"Ah, do we know that, indeed? You know it, M. Seneschal? Well, I declareI do not know it. To be sure, I bear in mind, what you seem to forget,that we have no longer, as in former days, only three or four kindsof guns. Did you think of the immense variety of fire-arms, French andEnglish, American and German, which are nowadays found in everybody'shands? Do you not see, you who have been a lawyer and a magistrate, thatthe whole legal question will be based upon this grave and all-importantpoint?"
Thereupon the physician resumed his instruments, resolved to give noother answer, and was about to go to work once more when fearfulcries were heard without; and the lawyers, the mayor, and the countessherself, rushed at once to the door.
These cries were, unfortunately, not uttered without cause. The roof ofthe main building had just fallen in, burying under its ruins thepoor drummer who had a few hours ago beaten the alarm, and one of thefiremen, the most respected carpenter in Sauveterre, and a father offive children.
Capt. Parenteau seemed to be maddened by this disaster; and all viedwith each other in efforts to rescue the poor fellows, who were utteringshrieks of horror that rose high above the crash of falling timbers. Butall their endeavors were unavailing. One of the gendarmes and a farmer,who had nearly succeeded in reaching the sufferers, barely escaped beingburnt themselves, and were only rescued after having been dangerouslyinjured. Then only it seemed as if all became fully aware of theabominable crime committed by the incendiary. Then only the cloudsof smoke and the columns of fire, which rose high into the air, wereaccompanied by fierce cries of vengeance rising heavenwards.
"Death to the incendiary! Death!"
At the moment M. Seneschal felt himself inspired with a sudden thought.He knew how cautious peasants are, and how difficult it is to make themtell what they know. He climbed, therefore, upon a heap of fallen beams,and said in a clear, loud voice,--
"Yes, my friends, you are right: death to the incendiary! Yes, theunfortunate victims of the basest of all crimes must be avenged. We mustfind out the incendiary; we must! You want it to be done, don't you?Well, it depends only on you. There must be some one among you who knowssomething about this matter. Let him come forward and tell us what hehas seen or heard. Remember that the smallest trifle may be a clewto the crime. You would be as bad as the incendiary himself, if youconcealed him. Just think it over, consider."
Loud voices were heard in the crowd; then suddenly a voice said,--
"There is one here who can tell."
"Who?"
"Cocoleu. He was there from the beginning. It was he who went andbrought the children of the countess out of their room. What has becomeof him?--Cocoleu, Cocoleu!"
One must have lived in the country, among these simple-minded peasants,to understand the excitement and the fury of all these men and women asthey crowded around the ruins of Valpinson. People in town do not mindbrigands, in general: they have their gas, their strong doors, andthe police. They are generally little afraid of fire. They have theirfire-alarms; and at the first spark the neighbor cries, "Fire!" Theengines come racing up; and water comes forth as if by magic. But itis very different in the country: here every man is constantly undera sense of his isolation. A simple latch protects his door; and no onewatches over his safety at night. If a murderer should attack him, hiscries could bring no help. If fire should break out, his house would beburnt down before the neighbors could reach it; and he is happy who cansave his own life and that of his family. Hence all these good people,whom the mayor's words had deeply excited, were eager to find out theonly man who knew anything about this calamity, Cocoleu.
He was well known among them, and for many years.
T
here was not one among them who had not given him a piece of bread, ora bowl of soup, when he was hungry; not one of them had ever refusedhim a night's rest on the straw in his barn, when it was raining orfreezing, and the poor fellow wanted a shelter.
For Cocoleu was one of those unfortunate beings who labor under agrievous physical or moral deformity.
Some twenty years ago, a wealthy land-owner in Brechy had sent to thenearest town for half a dozen painters, whom he kept at his house nearlya whole summer, painting and decorating his newly-built house. One ofthese men had seduced a girl in the neighborhood, whom he had bewitchedby his long white blouse, his handsome brown mustache, his good spirits,gay songs, and flattering speeches. But, when the work was done, thetempter had flown away with the others, without thinking any more of thepoor girl than of the last cigar which he had smoked.
And yet she was expecting a child. When she could no longer concealher condition, she was turned out of the house in which she had beenemployed; and her family, unable to support themselves, drove her awaywithout mercy. Overcome with grief, shame, and remorse, poor Colettewandered from farm to farm, begging, insulted, laughed at, beaten evenat times. Thus it came about, that in a dark wood, one dismal winterevening, she gave life to a male child. No one ever understood howmother and child managed to survive. But both lived; and for many a yearthey were seen in and around Sauveterre, covered with rags, and livingupon the dear-bought generosity of the peasants.
Then the mother died, utterly forsaken by human help, as she had lived.They found her body, one morning, in a ditch by the wayside.
The child survived alone. He was then eight years old, quite strongand tall for his age. A farmer took pity on him, and took him home.The little wretch was not fit for anything: he could not even keephis master's cows. During his mother's lifetime, his silence, his wildlooks, and his savage appearance, had been attributed to his wretchedmode of life. But when people began to be interested in him, they foundout that his intellect had never been aroused. He was an idiot, and,besides, subject to that terrible nervous affection which at timesshakes the whole body and disfigures the face by the violence ofuncontrollable convulsions. He was not a deaf-mute; but he couldonly stammer out with intense difficulty a few disjointed syllables.Sometimes the country people would say to him,--
"Tell us your name, and you shall have a cent."
Then it took him five minutes' hard work to utter, amid a thousandpainful contortions, the name of his mother.
"Co-co-co-lette."
Hence came his name Cocoleu. It had been ascertained that he was utterlyunable to do anything; and people ceased to interest themselves in hisbehalf. The consequence was, that he became a vagabond as of old.
It was about this time that Dr. Seignebos, on one of his visits, met himone day on the public road.
This excellent man had, among other extraordinary notions, theconviction that idiocy is nothing more than a defective state ofthe brains, which may be remedied by the use of certain well-knownsubstances, such as phosphorus, for instance. He lost no time in seizingupon this admirable opportunity to test his theory. Cocoleu was sentfor, and installed in his house. He subjected him to a treatment whichhe kept secret; and only a druggist at Sauveterre, who was alsowell known as entertaining very extraordinary notions, knew whathad happened. At the end of eighteen months, Cocoleu had fallen offterribly: he talked perhaps, a little more fluently; but his intellecthad not been perceptibly improved.
Dr. Seignebos was discouraged. He made up a parcel of things which hehad given to his patient, put it into his hands, pushed him out of hisdoor, and told him never to come back again.
The doctor had rendered Cocoleu a sad service. The poor idiot had lostthe habit of privation: he had forgotten how to go from door to door,asking for alms; and he would have perished, if his good fortune had notled him to knock at the door of the house at Valpinson.
Count Claudieuse and his wife were touched by his wretchedness, anddetermined to take charge of him. They gave him a room and a bed at oneof the farmhouses; but they could never induce him to stay there. Hewas by nature a vagabond; and the instinct was too strong for him. Inwinter, frost and snow kept him in for a little while; but as soon asthe first leaves came out, he went wandering again through forest andfield, remaining absent often for weeks altogether.
At last, however, something seemed to have been aroused in him, whichlooked like the instinct of a domesticated animal. His attachment tothe countess resembled that of a dog, even in the capers and cries withwhich he greeted her whenever he saw her. Often, when she went out, heaccompanied her, running and frolicking around her just like a dog. Hewas also very fond of little girls, and seemed to resent it when he waskept from them: for people were afraid his nervous attacks might affectthe children.
With time he had also become capable of performing some simple service.He could be intrusted with certain messages: he could water the flowers,summon a servant, or even carry a letter to the post-office at Brechy.His progress in this respect was so marked, that some of the morecunning peasants began to suspect that Cocoleu was not so "innocent,"after all, as he looked, and that he was cleverly playing the fool inorder to enjoy life easily.
"We have him at last," cried several voices at once. "Here he is; herehe is!"
The crowd made way promptly; and almost immediately a young manappeared, led and pushed forward by several persons. Cocoleu's clothes,all in disorder, showed clearly that he had offered a stout resistance.He was a youth of about eighteen years, very tall, quite beardless,excessively thin, and so loosely jointed, that he looked like ahunchback. A mass of reddish hair came down his low, retreatingforehead. His small eyes, his enormous mouth bristling with sharp teeth,his broad flat nose, and his immense ears, gave to his face a strangeidiotic expression, and to his whole appearance a most painful brutishair.
"What must we do with him?" asked the peasants of the mayor.
"We must take him before the magistrate, my friends," replied M.Seneschal,--"down there in that cottage, where you have carried thecount."
"And we'll make him talk," threatened his captors. "You hear! Go on,quick!"
Within an Inch of His Life Page 3
