IV.
M. Seneschal's horse was perhaps one of the very best in the wholeprovince; but M. de Chandore's was still better. In less than fiftyminutes they had driven the whole distance to Boiscoran; and during thistime M. de Chandore and M. Folgat had not exchanged fifty words.
When they reached Boiscoran, the courtyard was silent and deserted.Doors and windows were hermetically closed. On the steps of the porchsat a stout young peasant, who, at the sight of the newcomers, rose, andcarried his hand to his cap.
"Where is Anthony?" asked M. de Chandore.
"Up stairs, sir."
The old gentleman tried to open the door: it resisted.
"O sir! Anthony has barricaded the door from the inside."
"A curious idea," said M. de Chandore, knocking with the butt-end of hiswhip.
He was knocking fiercer and fiercer, when at last Anthony's voice washeard from within,--
"Who is there?"
"It is I, Baron Chandore."
The bars were removed instantly, and the old valet showed himself in thedoor. He looked pale and undone. The disordered condition of his beard,his hair, and his dress, showed that he had not been to bed. And thisdisorder was full of meaning in a man who ordinarily prided himself uponappearing always in the dress of an English gentleman.
M. de Chandore was so struck by this, that he asked, first of all,--
"What is the matter with you, my good Anthony?"
Instead of replying, Anthony drew the baron and his companion inside;and, when he had fastened the door again, he crossed his arms, andsaid,--
"The matter is--well, I am afraid."
The old gentleman and the lawyer looked at each other. They evidentlyboth thought the poor man had lost his mind. Anthony saw it, and saidquickly,--
"No, I am not mad, although, certainly, there are things passing herewhich could make one doubtful of one's own senses. If I am afraid, it isfor good reasons."
"You do not doubt your master?" asked M. Folgat.
The servant cast such fierce, threatening glances at the lawyer, that M.de Chandore hastened to interfere.
"My dear Anthony," he said, "this gentleman is a friend of mine, alawyer, who has come down from Paris with the marchioness to defendJacques. You need not mistrust him, nay, more than that, you must tellhim all you know, even if"--
The trusty old servant's face brightened up, and he exclaimed,--
"Ah! If the gentleman is a lawyer. Welcome, sir. Now I can say all thatweighs on my heart. No, most assuredly I do not think Master Jacquesguilty. It is impossible he should be so: it is absurd to think of it.But what I believe, what I am sure of, is this,--there is a plot tocharge him with all the horrors of Valpinson."
"A plot?" broke in M. Folgat, "whose? how? and what for?"
"Ah! that is more than I know. But I am not mistaken; and you wouldthink so too, if you had been present at the examination, as I was. Itwas fearful, gentlemen, it was unbearable, so that even I was stupefiedfor a moment, and thought my master was guilty, and advised him to flee.The like has never been heard of before, I am sure. Every thing wentagainst him. Every answer he made sounded like a confession. A crimehad been committed at Valpinson; he had been seen going there and comingback by side paths. A fire had been kindled; his hands bore traces ofcharcoal. Shots had been fired; they found one of his cartridge-casesclose to the spot where Count Claudieuse had been wounded. There itwas I saw the plot. How could all these circumstances have agreed soprecisely if they had not been pre-arranged, and calculated beforehand?Our poor M. Daubigeon had tears in his eyes; and even that meddlesomefellow, Mechinet, the clerk, was quite overcome. M. Galpin was the onlyone who looked pleased; but then he was the magistrate, and he put thequestions. He, my master's friend!--a man who was constantly cominghere, who ate our bread, slept in our beds, and shot our game. Then itwas, 'My dear Jacques,' and 'My dear Boiscoran' always, and no end ofcompliments and caresses; so that I often thought one of these days Ishould find him blackening my master's boots. Ah! he took his revengeyesterday; and you ought to have seen with what an air he said tomaster, 'We are friends no longer.' The rascal! No, we are friends nolonger; and, if God was just, you ought to have all the shot in yourbody that has wounded Count Claudieuse."
M. de Chandore was growing more and more impatient. As soon, therefore,as Anthony's breath gave out a moment, he said,--
"Why did you not come and tell me all that immediately?"
The old servant ventured to shrug his shoulders slightly, and replied,--
"How could I? When the examination was over, that man, Galpin, put theseals everywhere,--strips of linen, fastened on with sealing-wax, asthey do with dead people. He put one on every opening, and on someof them two. He put three on the outer door. Then he told me that heappointed me keeper of the house, that I would be paid for it, but thatI would be sent to the galleys if any one touched the seals with thetip of the finger. When he had handed master over to the gendarmes, thatman, Galpin, went away, leaving me here alone, dumfounded, like a manwho has been knocked in the head. Nevertheless, I should have come toyou, sir, but I had an idea, and that gave me the shivers."
Grandpapa Chandore stamped his foot, and said,--
"Come to the point, to the point!"
"It was this: you must know, gentlemen, that, in the examination, thatbreech-loading gun played a prominent part. That man, Galpin looked atit carefully, and asked master when he had last fired it off. Mastersaid, 'About five days ago. You hear, I say, five days.' Thereupon, thatman, Galpin, puts the gun down, without looking at the barrels."
"Well?" asked M. Folgat.
"Well, sir, I--Anthony--I had the evening before--I say the eveningbefore--cleaned the gun, washed it, and"--
"Upon my word," cried M. de Chandore, "why did you not say so at once?If the barrels are clean, that is an absolute proof that Jacques isinnocent."
The old servant shook his head, and said,--
"To be sure, sir. But are they clean?"
"Oh!"
"Master may have been mistaken as to the time when he last fired thegun, and then the barrels would be soiled; and, instead of helping him,my evidence might ruin him definitely. Before I say any thing, I oughtto be sure."
"Yes," said Folgat, approvingly, "and you have done well to keepsilence, my good man, and I cannot urge you too earnestly not to say aword of it to any one. That fact may become a decisive argument for the_defence_."
"Oh! I can keep my tongue, sir. Only you may imagine how impatient ithas made me to see these accursed seals which prevent me from going tolook at the gun. Oh, if I had dared to break one of them!"
"Poor fellow!"
"I thought of doing it; but I checked myself. Then it occurred to methat other people might think of the same thing. The rascals who haveformed this abominable plot against Master Jacques are capable of anything, don't you think so? Why might not they come some night, andbreak the seals? I put the steward on guard in the garden, beneath thewindows. I put his son as a sentinel into the courtyard; and I havemyself stood watch before the seals with arms in my hands all the time.Let the rascals come on; they will find somebody to receive them."
In spite of all that is said, lawyers are better than their reputation.Lawyers, accused of being sceptics above all men, are, on the contrary,credulous and simple-minded. Their enthusiasm is sincere; and, when wethink they play a part, they are in earnest. In the majority of cases,they fancy their own side the just one, even though they should bebeaten. Hour by hour, ever since his arrival at Sauveterre, M. Folgat'sfaith in Jacques's innocence had steadily increased. Old Anthony'stale was not made to shake his growing conviction. He did not admit theexistence of a plot, however; but he was not disinclined to believein the cunning calculations of some rascal, who, availing himself ofcircumstances known to him alone, tried to let all suspicion fall uponM. de Boiscoran, instead of himself.
But there were many more questions to be asked; and Anthony was in sucha state of feverish excitement, that it w
as difficult to induce him toanswer. For it is not so easy to examine a man, however inclined he maybe to answer. It requires no small self-possession, much care, and animperturbable method, without which the most important facts are apt tobe overlooked. M. Folgat began, therefore, after a moment's pause, oncemore, saying,--
"My good Anthony, I cannot praise your conduct in this matter toohighly. However, we have not done with it yet. But as I have eatennothing since I left Paris last night, and as I hear the bell striketwelve o'clock"--
M. de Chandore seemed to be heartily ashamed, and broke in,--
"Ah, forgetful old man that I am! Why did I not think of it? But youwill pardon me, I am sure. I am so completely upset. Anthony, what canyou let us have?"
"The housekeeper has eggs, potted fowl, ham"--
"Whatever can be made ready first will be the best," said the younglawyer.
"In a quarter of an hour the table shall be set," replied the servant.
He hurried away, while M. de Chandore invited M. Folgat into thesitting-room. The poor grandfather summoned all his energy to keep upappearances.
"This fact about the gun will save him, won't it?" he asked.
"Perhaps so," replied the famous advocate.
And they were silent,--the grandfather thinking of the grief of hisgrandchild, and cursing the day on which he had opened his houseto Jacques, and with him to such heart-rending anguish; the lawyerarranging in his mind the facts he had learned, and preparing thequestions he was going to ask. They were both so fully absorbed by theirthoughts, that they started when Anthony reappeared, and said,--
"Gentlemen, breakfast is ready!"
The table had been set in the dining-room; and, when the two gentlemenhad taken their seats, old Anthony placed himself, his napkin over hisarm, behind them; but M. de Chandore called him, saying,--
"Put another plate, Anthony, and breakfast with us."
"Oh, sir," protested the old servant,--"sir"--
"Sit down," repeated the baron: "if you eat after us, you will make uslose time, and an old servant like you is a member of the family."
Anthony obeyed, quite overcome, but blushing with delight at the honorthat was done him; for the Baron de Chandore did not usually distinguishhimself to familiarity. When the ham and eggs of the housekeeper hadbeen disposed of, M. Folgat said,--
"Now let us go back to business. Keep cool, my dear Anthony, andremember, that, unless we get the court to say that there is no case,your answers may become the basis of our defence. What were M. deBoiscoran's habits when he was here?"
"When he was here, sir, he had, so to say, no habits. We came here veryrarely, and only for a short time."
"Never mind: what was he doing here?"
"He used to rise late; he walked about a good deal; he sometimes wentout hunting; he sketched; he read, for master is a great reader, and isas fond of his books as the marquis, his father, is of his porcelains."
"Who came here to see him?"
"M. Galpin most frequently, Dr. Seignebos, the priest from Brechy, M.Seneschal, M. Daubigeon."
"How did he spend his evenings?"
"At M. de Chandore's, who can tell you all about it."
"He had no other relatives in this country?"
"No."
"You do not know that he had any lady friend?"
Anthony looked as if he would have blushed.
"Oh, sir!" he said, "you do not know, I presume, that master is engagedto Miss Dionysia?"
The Baron de Chandore was not a baby, as he liked to call it. Deeplyinterested as he was, he got up, and said,--
"I want to take a little fresh air."
And he went out, understanding very well that his being Dionysia'sgrandfather might keep Anthony from telling the truth.
"That is a sensible man," thought M. Folgat.
Then he added aloud,--
"Now we are alone, my dear Anthony, you can speak frankly. Did M. deBoiscoran keep a mistress?"
"No, sir."
"Did he ever have one?"
"Never. They will tell you, perhaps, that once upon a time he was ratherpleased with a great, big red-haired woman, the daughter of a miller inthe neighborhood, and that the gypsy of a woman came more frequently tothe chateau than was needful,--now on one pretext, and now on another.But that was mere childishness. Besides, that was five years ago,and the woman has been married these three years to a basket-maker atMarennes."
"You are quite sure of what you say?"
"As sure as I am of myself. And you would be as sure of it yourself, ifyou knew the country as I know it, and the abominable tongues the peoplehave. There is no concealing any thing from them. I defy a man to talkthree times to a woman without their finding it out, and making a storyof it. I say nothing of Paris"--
M. Folgat listened attentively. He asked,--
"Ah! was there any thing of the kind in Paris?"
Anthony hesitated; at last he said,--
"You see, master's secrets are not my secrets, and, after the oath Ihave sworn,"--
"It may be, however, that his safety depends upon your frankness intelling me all," said the lawyer. "You may be sure he will not blame youfor having spoken."
For several seconds the old servant remained undecided; then he said,--
"Master, they say, has had a great love-affair."
"When?"
"I do not know when. That was before I entered his service. All I knowis, that, for the purpose of meeting the person, master had bought atPassy, at the end of Vine Street, a beautiful house, in the centre of alarge garden, which he had furnished magnificently."
"Ah!"
"That is a secret, which, of course, neither master's father nor hismother knows to this day; and I only know it, because one day masterfell down the steps, and dislocated his foot, so that he had to send forme to nurse him. He may have bought the house under his own name; but hewas not known by it there. He passed for an Englishmen, a Mr. Burnett;and he had an English maid-servant."
"And the person?"
"Ah, sir! I not only do not know who she is, but I cannot even guessit, she took such extraordinary precautions! Now that I mean to tell youevery thing, I will confess to you that I had the curiosity to questionthe English maid. She told me that she was no farther than I was, thatshe knew, to be sure, a lady was coming there from time to time; butthat she had never seen even the end of her nose. Master always arrangedit so well, that the girl was invariably out on some errand or otherwhen the lady came and when she went away. While she was in the house,master waited upon her himself. And when they wanted to walk in thegarden, they sent the servant away, on some fool's errand, to Versaillesor to Fontainebleau; and she was mad, I tell you."
M. Folgat began to twist his mustache, as he was in the habit of doingwhen he was specially interested. For a moment, he thought he saw thewoman--that inevitable woman who is always at the bottom of every greatevent in man's life; and just then she vanished from his sight; forhe tortured his mind in vain to discover a possible if not probableconnection between the mysterious visitor in Vine Street and theevents that had happened at Valpinson. He could not see a trace. Ratherdiscouraged, he asked once more,--
"After all, my dear Anthony, this great love-affair of your master's hascome to an end?"
"It seems so, sir, since Master Jacques was going to marry MissDionysia."
That reason was perhaps not quite as conclusive as the good old servantimagined; but the young advocate made no remark.
"And when do you think it came to an end?"
"During the war, master and the lady must have been parted; for masterdid not stay in Paris. He commanded a volunteer company; and he was evenwounded in the head, which procured him the cross."
"Does he still own the house in Vine Street?"
"I believe so."
"Why?"
"Because, some time ago, when master and I went to Paris for a week,he said to me one day, 'The War and the commune have cost me dear.My cottage has had more than twent
y shells, and it has been in turnoccupied by _Francs-tireurs_, Communists and Regulars. The walls arebroken; and there is not a piece of furniture uninjured. My architecttells me, that all in all, the repairs will cost me some ten thousanddollars.'"
"What? Repairs? Then he thought of going back there?"
"At that time, sir, master's marriage had not been settled. Yet"--
"Still that would go to prove that he had at that time met themysterious lady once more, and that the war had not broken off theirrelations."
"That may be."
"And has he never mentioned the lady again?"
"Never."
At this moment M. de Chandore's cough was heard in the hall,--that coughwhich men affect when they wish to announce their coming. Immediatelyafterwards he reappeared; and M. Folgat said to him, to show that hispresence was no longer inconvenient,--
"Upon my word, sir, I was just on the point of going in search of you,for fear that you felt really unwell."
"Thank you," replied the old gentleman, "the fresh air has done megood."
He sat down; and the young advocate turned again to Anthony, saying,--
"Well, let us go on. How was he the day before the fire?"
"Just as usual."
"What did he do before he went out?"
"He dined as usual with a good appetite; then he went up stairs andremained there for an hour. When he came down, he had a letter in hishand, which he gave to Michael, our tenant's son, and told him to carryit to Sauveterre, to Miss Chandore."
"Yes. In that letter, M. de Boiscoran told Miss Dionysia that he wasretained here by a matter of great importance."
"Ah!"
"Have you any idea what that could have been?"
"Not at all, sir, I assure you."
"Still let us see. M. de Boiscoran must have had powerful reasonsto deprive himself of the pleasure of spending the evening with MissDionysia?"
"Yes, indeed."
"He must also have had his reasons for taking to the marshes, on his wayout, instead of going by the turnpike, and for coming back through thewoods."
Old Anthony was literally tearing his hair, as he exclaimed,--
"Ah, sir! These are the very words M. Galpin said."
"Unfortunately every man in his senses will say so."
"I know, sir: I know it but too well. And Master Jacques himself knewit so well that at first he tried to find some pretext; but he hasnever told a falsehood. And he who is such a clever man could not finda pretext that had any sense in it. He said he had gone to Brechy to seehis wood-merchant"--
"And why should he not?"
Anthony shook his head, and said,--
"Because the wood-merchant at Brechy is a thief, and everybody knowsthat master has kicked him out of the house some three years ago. Wesell all our wood at Sauveterre."
M. Folgat had taken out a note-book, and wrote down some of Anthony'sstatements, preparing thus the outline of his defence. This being done,he commenced again,--
"Now we come to Cocoleu."
"Ah the wretch!" cried Anthony.
"You know him?"
"How could I help knowing him, when I lived all my life here atBoiscoran in the service of master's uncle?"
"Then what kind of a man is he?"
"An idiot, sir or, as they here call it, an innocent, who has SaintVitus dance into the bargain, and epilepsy moreover."
"Then it is perfectly notorious that he is imbecile?"
"Yes, sir, although I have heard people insist that he is not quiteso stupid as he looks, and that, as they say here, he plays the ass inorder to get his oats"--
M. de Chandore interrupted him, and said,--
"On this subject Dr. Seignebos can give you all the information you maywant: he kept Cocoleu for nearly two years at his own house."
"I mean to see the doctor," replied M. Folgat. "But first of all we mustfind this unfortunate idiot."
"You heard what M. Seneschal said: he has put the gendarmes on histrack."
Anthony made a face, and said,--
"If the gendarmes should take Cocoleu, Cocoleu must have given himselfup voluntarily."
"Why so?"
"Because, gentlemen, there is no one who knows all the by-ways andout-of-the-way corners of the country so well as that idiot; for hehas been hiding all his life like a savage in all the holes andhiding-places that are about here; and, as he can live perfectly well onroots and berries, he may stay away three months without being seen byany one."
"Is it possible?" exclaimed M. Folgat angrily.
"I know only one man," continued Anthony, "who could find out Cocoleu,and that is our tenant's son Michael,--the young man you saw downstairs."
"Send for him," said M. de Chandore.
Michael appeared promptly, and, when he had heard what he was expectedto do, he replied,--
"The thing can be done, certainly; but it is not very easy. Cocoleuhas not the sense of a man; but he has all the instincts of a brute.However, I'll try."
There was nothing to keep either M. de Chandore or M. Folgat any longerat Boiscoran; hence, after having warned Anthony to watch the sealswell, and get a glimpse, if possible, of Jacques's gun, when theofficers should come for the different articles, they left the chateau.It was five o'clock when they drove into town again. Dionysia waswaiting for them in the sitting-room. She rose as they entered, lookingquite pale, with dry, brilliant eyes.
"What? You are alone here!" said M. de Chandore. "Why have they left youalone?"
"Don't be angry, grandpapa. I have just prevailed on the marchioness,who was exhausted with fatigue to lie down for an hour or so beforedinner."
"And your aunts?"
"They have gone out, grandpapa. They are probably, by this time at M.Galpin's."
M. Folgat started, and said,--
"Oh!"
"But that is foolish in them!" exclaimed the old gentleman.
The young girl closed his lips by a single word. She said,--
"I asked them to go."
Within an Inch of His Life Page 13
