lira 
 
 
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GABORIAITS SENSATIONAL NOVELS. 
 
 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 E M I L E G A B O R I A U, 
 
 \\ 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "FlLB NO. 113," "MONSIKUR LECOQ," " IN PERIL OF HlS LlFE," 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 CHICAGO AND NEW YORK : 
 
 BELFORD, CLARKE & COMPANY, 
 
 PUBLISHERS. 
 
TROWS 
 
 PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY, 
 NEW YORK. 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 I. 
 
 ON Thursday, the 6th of March, 1862, two days after 
 Shrove Tuesday, five women belonging to the village of 
 La Jonchere presented themselves at the police station, at 
 Bougival. They stated that for two days past no one had 
 seen the Widow Lerouge, one of their neighbors, who lived 
 by herself in an isolated cottage. They had several times 
 knocked at the door, but all in vain. The window-shutters 
 as well as the door were closed ; and it was impossible to 
 obtain even a glimpse of the interior. This silence, this 
 sudden disappearance alarmed them. Apprehensive of a 
 crime, or at least of an accident, they requested the inter- 
 ference of the police to satisfy their doubts by forcing the 
 door and entering the house. 
 
 Bougival is a pleasant riverside village, peopled on 
 Sundays by crowds of boating parties. Trifling offences 
 are frequently heard of in its neighborhood, but crimes are 
 rare. The commissary of police at first refused to listen to 
 tlie women, but their importunities so fatigued him that he 
 at length acceded to their request. He sent for the corporal 
 of gendarmes, with two of his men, called into requisition 
 the services of a locksmith, and, thus accompanied, followed 
 the neighbors of the Widow Lerouge. 
 
 La Jonchere owes some celebrity to the inventor of the 
 sliding railway, who for some years past has, with more 
 enterprise than profit, made public trials of his system in 
 the immediate neighborhood. It is a hamlet of no import- 
 ance, resting upon the slope of the hill which overlooks the 
 Seine between La Malmaison and Bougival. It is about 
 twenty minutes' walk from the main road, which, passi,. 
 
2 Till-. L&ROUGE ( - 
 
 by Rueil and Port-Marly, goes from Paris to St. (Hermain ; 
 and is reached by a steep and rugged lane, quite unknown 
 to the government engineers. 
 
 The party, led by the gendarmes, followed the main road 
 which here bordered the river until it reached this lane, into 
 which it turned, and stumbled over the rugged inequalities 
 of the ground for about a hundred yards, when it arrived in 
 front of a cottage of extremely modest yet respectable 
 appearance. This cottage had probably been built by some 
 little Parisian shopkeeper in love with the beauties of 
 nature ; for all the trees had been carefully cut down. It 
 consisted merely of two apartments on the ground floor with 
 a loft above. Around it extended a much-neglected garden, 
 badly protected against midnight prowlers, by a very 
 dilapidated stone wall about three feet high, and broken 
 and crumbling in many places. A light wooden gate, clum- 
 sily held in its place by pieces of wire, gave access to the 
 garden. 
 
 " It is here," said the women. 
 
 The commissary stopped. During his short walk, the 
 number of his followers had been rapidly increasing, and 
 now included all the inquisitive and idle persons of the 
 neighborhood. He found himself surrounded by about 
 forty individuals burning with curiosity. 
 
 " No one must enter the garden," said he ; and, to ensure 
 obedience, he placed the two gendarmes on sentry before 
 the entrance, and advanced towards the house, accom- 
 panied by the corporal and the locksmith. 
 
 He knocked several times loudly with his leaded cane, 
 first at the door, and then successively at all the window 
 shutters. After each blow, he placed his ear against the 
 wood and listened. Hearing nothing, he turned to the 
 locksmith. 
 
 " Open ! " said he. 
 
 The workman unstrapped his satchel, and produced his 
 implements. He had already introduced a skeleton key 
 into the lock, when a loud exclamation was heard from the 
 crowd outside the gate. 
 
 " The key ! " they cried. " Here is the key ! " 
 
 A boy about twelve years old playing with one of his 
 companions, had seen an enormous key in a ditch by the 
 roadside ; he had picked it up and carried it to the cottage 
 in triumph. 
 
TUK LEKOUGK CASK. 3 
 
 " Give it to me youngster," said the corporal. " We 
 shall see." 
 
 The key was tried, and it proved to be the key of the 
 house. The commissary and the locksmith exchanged 
 glances full of sinister misgivings. " This looks bad," 
 muttered the corporal. They entered the house, while the 
 crowd, restrained with difficulty by the gendarmes, stamped 
 with impatience, or leant over the garden wall, stretching 
 their necks eagerly, to see or hear something of what was 
 passing within the cottage. 
 
 Those who anticipated the discovery of a crime, were 
 unhappily not deceived. The commissary was convinced 
 of this as soon as he crossed the threshold. Everything in 
 the first room pointed with a sad eloquence to the recent 
 presence of a malefactor. The furniture was knocked about, 
 and a chest of drawers and two large trunks had been 
 forced and broken open. In the inner room, which served 
 as a sleeping apartment, the disorder was even greater. 
 It seemed as though some furious hand had taken a fiendish 
 pleasure in upsetting everything. Near the fireplace, her 
 face buried in the ashes, lay the dead body of Widow 
 Lerouge. All one side of the face and the hair were 
 burnt ; it seemed a miracle that the fire had not caught 
 her clothing. 
 
 " W retches ! " exclaimed the corporal. " Could they 
 not have robbed, without assassinating the poor woman ? " 
 
 " But where has she been wounded ? " inquired the com- 
 missary, "'I do not see any blood." 
 
 " Look ! here between the shoulders," replied the cor- 
 poral ; two fierce blows, by my faith. I'll wager my stripes 
 she had no time to cry out." 
 
 He stooped over the corpse and touched it. " She is 
 quite cold," he continued, " and it seems to me that she is 
 no longer very stiff. It is at least thirty-six hours since she 
 received her death-blow." 
 
 The commissary began writing, on the corner of a table, 
 a short official report. "We are not here to talk, but to 
 discover the guilty," said he to the corporal. " Let infor- 
 mation be at once conveyed to the justice of the peace, and 
 the mayor, and send this letter without delay to the Palais 
 de Justice. In a couple of hours, an investigating magis- 
 trate can be here. In the meanwhile, I will proceed to 
 make a preliminary inquiry." 
 
4 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 "Shall 1 carry the letter?" asked the corporal of gen- 
 darmes. 
 
 " No, send one of your men ; you will be useful to me 
 heie in keeping these people in order, and in finding any 
 witnesses I may want. We must leave everything here 
 as it is. I will install myself in the other room." 
 
 A gendarme departed at a run towards the station at 
 Rueil , and the commissaiy commenced his investigations 
 in regular form, as prescribed by law. 
 
 " Who was Widow Lerouge ? Where did she come from ? 
 What did she do ? Upon what means, and how did she 
 live? What were her habits, her morals, and what sort of 
 company did she keep ? Was she known to have enemies ? 
 Was she a miser? Did she pass for being rich?" The 
 commissary knew the importance of ascertaining all this : 
 but although the witnesses were numerous enough, they 
 possessed but little information. The depositions of the 
 neighbours, successively interrogated, were empty, incoher- 
 ent, and incomplete. No one knew anything of the victim, 
 who was a stranger in the country. Many presented them- 
 selves as witnesses moreover, who came forward less to 
 afford information than to gratify their curiosity. A gar- 
 dener's wife, who had been friendly with the deceased, and 
 a milkwoman with whom she dealt, were alone able to give 
 a few insignificant though precise details. In a word, 
 after three hours of laborious investigation, after having 
 undergone the infliction of all the gossip of the country, 
 after receiving evidence the most contradictory, and list- 
 ened to commentaries the most ridiculous, the following is 
 what appeared the the most reliable to the commis- 
 sary. 
 
 Twelve years before, at the beginning of 1850, the 
 woman Lerouge had made her appearance at Bougival with 
 a large wagon piled with furniture, linen, and her personal 
 effects. She had alighted at an inn, declaring her inten- 
 tion of settling in the neighbourhood, and had immediately 
 gone in quest of a house. Finding this one unoccupied', 
 and thinking it Would suit her, she had taken it without 
 trying to beat down the terms, at a rental of three hundred 
 and twenty francs payable half yearly and in advance, but 
 had refused to sign a iease. The house taken, she occupied 
 it the same day, and expended about a hundred francs 
 on repairs. 
 
THE LEKOUGE CASK. 5 
 
 She was a woman about fifty-four or fifty-five years of 
 age, well preserved, active, and in the enjoyment of excel- 
 lent health. No one knew her reasons for taking up her 
 abode in a country where she was an absolute stranger. 
 She was supposed to have come from Normandy, having 
 been frequently seen in the early morning to wear a white cot 
 ton cap. This night-cap did not prevent her dressing very 
 smartly during the day ; indeed, she ordinarily wore very 
 handsome dresses, very showy ribbons in her caps, and 
 covered herself with jewels like a saint in a chapel. With- 
 out doubt she lived on the coast, for ships and the sea re* 
 curred incessantly in her conversation. 
 
 She did not like speaking of her husband who had, she 
 said, perished in a shipwreck. But she had never given 
 the slightest detail. On one particular occasion she had 
 remarked, in presence of the milk-woman and three other 
 persons, " No woman was ever more miserable than I dur- 
 ing my married life." And at another she had said, " All 
 new, all fine ! My defunct husband only loved me for a 
 year ! " 
 
 Widow Lerouge passed for rich, or at the least for being 
 very well off and she was not a miser. She had lent a 
 woman at La Malmaison sixty francs with which to pay her 
 rent, and would not let her return them. At another 
 time she had advanced two hundred francs to a fisherman of 
 Port-Marly. She was fond of good living, spent a good 
 deal on her food, and bought wine by the half cask. She 
 took pleasure in treating her acquaintances, and her din- 
 ners were excellent. If complimented on her easy circum- 
 stances, she made no very strong denial. She had fre- 
 quently been heard to say, " I have nothing in the funds, 
 but I have everything I want. If I wished for more, I 
 could have it." 
 
 Beyond this, the slightest allusion to her past life, her 
 country, or her family had never escaped her. She was 
 very talkative, but all she would say would be to the detri- 
 ment of her neighbours. She was supposed, however, to 
 have seen the world, and to know a great deal. She was 
 very distrustful and barricaded herself in her cottage as in 
 a fortress. She never went out in the evening, and it was 
 well known that she got tipsy regularly at her dinner and 
 went to bed very soon afterwards. Rarely had strangers 
 been seen to visit her , four or five times a lady accompa- 
 
6 THE LEROL'CE CASE. 
 
 nied by a young man had called, and upon one occasion two 
 gentlemen, one young, the other old and decorated, had 
 come in a magnificent carriage. 
 
 In conclusion, the deceased was held in but little esteem 
 by her neighbours. Her remarks were often most offensive 
 and odious in the mouth of a woman of her age. She had 
 been heard to give a young girl the most detestable coun- 
 sels. A pork butcher, belonging to Bougival, embarrassed 
 in his business, and tempted by her supposed wealth, had 
 at one time paid her his addresses. She, however, repelled 
 his advances, declaring that to be married once was 
 enough for her. On several occasions men had been seen 
 in her house : first of all, a young one, who had the appear- 
 ance of a clerk of the railway company : then another, a 
 tall, elderly man, very sunburnt, who was dressed in a 
 blouse, and looked very villanous. These men were re- 
 ported to be her lovers. 
 
 Whilst questioning the witnesses, the commissary wrote 
 down their depositions in a more condensed form, and he 
 had got so far, when the investigating magistrate arrived, 
 attended by the chief of the detective police, and one of 
 his subordinates. M. Daburon was a man thirty-eight years 
 of age, and of prepossessing appearance ; sympathetic not- 
 withstanding his coldness ; wearing upon his countenance a 
 sweet, and rather sad expression. This settled melancholy 
 had remained with him ever since his recovery, two years 
 before, from a dreadful malady, which had well-nigh proved 
 fatal. Investigating magistrate since 1859, he had rap- 
 idly acquired the most brilliant reputation. Laborious, 
 patient, and acute, he knew with singular skill how to 
 disentangle the skein of the most complicated affair, 
 and from the midst of a thousand threads lay hold of 
 the right one. None better than he, armed with an im- 
 placable logic, could solve those terrible problems in which 
 X represents the criminal. Clever in deducing the un- 
 known from the known, he excelled in collecting facts, 
 and in uniting in a bundle of overwhelming proofs circum- 
 stances the most trifling, and in appearance the most 
 insignificant. 
 
 Although possessed of qualifications for his office so 
 numerous and valuable, he was tremblingly distrustful of 
 his own abilities and exercised his terrible functions with 
 diffidence and hesitation. He wanted audacity to risk those 
 
THE I.EKOL'UE CASE. 7 
 
 sudden surprises so often resorted toby his colleagues in the 
 pursuit of truth. Thus it was repugnant to his feelings to 
 deceive even an accused person, or to lay snares for him : 
 in fact the mere idea of the possibility of a judicial error 
 terrified him. They said of him in the courts, " He is a 
 trembler." What he sought was not conviction, nor the 
 most probable presumptions, but the most absolute certainty. 
 No rest for him until the day when the accused was forced 
 to bow before the evidence ; so much so that he had been 
 jestingly reproached with seeking not to discover criminals 
 but innocents. 
 
 The chief of detective police was none other than the 
 celebrated Gevrol. He is really an able man, but wanting 
 in perseverance, and liable to be blinded by an incredible 
 obstinacy. If he loses a clue, he cannot bring himself to 
 acknowledge it, still less to retrace his steps. His audacity 
 and coolness, however, render it impossible to disconcert 
 him ; and being possessed of immense personal strength, 
 hidden under a most meagre appearance, he has never 
 hesitated to confront the most daring of -male actors. 
 But his specialty, his triumph, his glory, is a memory of 
 faces, so prodigious as to exceed belief. Let him see a 
 face for five minutes, and it is enough. Its possessor is 
 catalogued, and will be recognised at any time. The 
 impossibilities of place, the unlikelihood of circumstances, 
 the most incredible disguises will not lead him astray. 
 The reason for this, so he pretends, is because he only 
 looks at a man's eyes, without noticing any other features. 
 This faculty was severely tested some months back at 
 Poissy, by the following experiment. Three prisoners 
 were draped in coverings so as to completely disguise their 
 height. Over their faces were thick veils, allowing nothing 
 of the features to be seen except the eyes, for which holes 
 had been made ; and in this state they were shown to 
 Gevrol. Without the slightest hesitation he recognised 
 the prisoners and named them. Had chance alone assisted 
 him ? 
 
 The subordinate Gevrol had brought with him, was an 
 old offender, reconciled to the law. A smart fellow in his 
 profession, crafty as a fox, and jealous of his chief, whose 
 abilities he held in light estimation. His name was Lecoq. 
 
 The commissary, by this time heartily lired of his responsi- 
 bilities, welcomed the investigating magistrate and l-,i> 
 
8 yyy/s L^&ROUGE SASE. 
 
 agents as liberators. He rapidly related the facts collected 
 and read his official report. 
 
 "You have proceeded very well," observed the investiga- 
 ting magistrate. "All is stated clearly ; yet there is one 
 fact you have omitted to ascertain." 
 
 " What is that, sir ? " inquired the commissary. 
 
 " On what day was Widow Lerouge last seen, and at what 
 hour ? " 
 
 " I was coming to that presently. She was last seen 
 and spoken to on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, at twenty 
 minutes past five. She was then returning from Botigival 
 with a basketful of purchases." 
 
 " You are sure of the hour, sir ? " inquired Gevrol. 
 
 " Perfectly, and for this reason ; the two witnesses who 
 furnished me with this fact, a woman named Tellier and a 
 cooper who lives hard by, alighted from the omnibus which 
 leaves Marly every hour, when they perceived the widow 
 in the cross-road, and hastend to overtake her. They 
 conversed with her and only left her when they reached 
 the door of her own house." 
 
 " And what had she in her basket ? " asked the investiga- 
 ting magistrate. 
 
 " The witnesses cannot say. They only know that she 
 carried two sealed bottles of wine, and another of brandy. 
 She complained to them of headache, and said, " Though 
 it is customary to enjoy oneself on Shrove Tuesday, I am 
 going to bed.' " 
 
 " So, so ! " exclaimed the chief of detective police. 
 " I know where to search ! " 
 
 " You think so ? " inquire M. Daburon. 
 
 " Why, it is clear enough, We must find the tall sun- 
 burnt man, the gallant in the blouse. The brandy and 
 the wine were intended for his entertainment. The widow 
 expected him to supper. He came, sure enough, the 
 amiable gallant ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the corporal of gendarmes, evidently 
 scandalised, " she was very old, and terribly ugly ! " 
 
 Gevrol surveyed the honest fellow with an expression of 
 contemptuous pity. " Know, corporal," said he, " that a 
 woman who has money is always young and pretty, if she 
 desires to be thought so ! " 
 
 " Perhaps there is something in that," remarked the 
 magistrate ; " but it is not what strikes me most. I am 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 9 
 
 more impressed by the remark of this unfortunate woman. 
 If I wished for more, I could have it. ' ' 
 
 " That also attracted my attention," acquiesced the 
 commissary. 
 
 But Gevrol no longer took the trouble to listen. He 
 stuck to his own opinion, and began to inspect minutely 
 every corner of the room. Suddenly he turned towards 
 the commissary. "Now that 1 think of it," cried he, " was 
 it not on Tuesday that the weather changed ? It had been 
 freezing for a fortnight past, and on that evening it rained. 
 At what time did the rain commence here ? " 
 
 " At half-past nine," answered the corporal. "I went 
 out from supper to make my circuit of the dancing halls, 
 when I was overtaken opposite the Rue des Pecheurs by a 
 heavy shower. In less than ten minutes there was half 
 an inch of water in the road." 
 
 "Very well," said Gevrol. "Then if the man came 
 after half-past nine his shoes must have been very muddy. 
 If they were dry, he arrived sooner. This must have been 
 noticed, for the floor is a polished one. Were there any 
 imprints of footsteps, Mr. Commissary,? " 
 
 " I must confess we never thought of looking for 
 them." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed the chief detective, in a tone of irrita- 
 tion, " that is vexatious ! " 
 
 " Wait," added the commissary ; " there is yet time to see 
 if there are any, not in this room, but in the other. We 
 have disturbed absolutely nothing there. My footsteps 
 and the corporal's will be easily distinguished. Let us 
 see." 
 
 As the commissary opened the door of the second cham- 
 ber, Gevrol stopped him. " I ask permission, sir," said he 
 to the investigating magistrate, " to examine the apartment 
 before any one else is permitted to enter. It is very im- 
 portant for me." 
 
 " Certainly," approved M. Daburon. 
 
 Gevrol passed in first, the others remaining on the 
 threshold. They all took in at a glance the scene of the 
 crime. Everything, as the commissary had stated, seemed 
 to have been overturned by some furious madman. In 
 the middle of the room was a table covered with a fine 
 linen cloth, while as snow. Upon this was placed a mag- 
 nificent wineglass of tho rarest manufacture, a very hand- 
 
I.I'.KOL'UK CASE. 
 
 some knife, and a plate of the finest porcelain. There 
 was an opened bottle of wine, hardly touched, and anotiier 
 of brandy, from which about five or six small glassfuls had 
 been taken. On the right, against the wall, stood two 
 handsome walnut-wood wardrobes, with ornamental locks ; 
 they were placed one on each side of the window; both 
 were empty, and the contents scattered about on all sides. 
 There were clothing, linen, and other effects unfolded, 
 tossed about, and crumpled. At the end of the room, 
 near the fireplace, a large cupboard used for keeping the 
 crockery was wide open. On the other side of the fire- 
 place, an old secretary with a marble top had been forced, 
 broken, smashed into bits, and rummaged, no doubt, to its 
 inmost recesses. The desk, wrenched away, hung by a 
 single hinge. The drawers had been pulled out and 
 thrown upon the floor. To the left of the room stood the 
 bed, which had been completely disarranged and upset. 
 Even the straw of the mattress had been pulled out and 
 examined. 
 
 " Not the slightest imprint," murmured Gevrol disap- 
 pointed. " He must have arrived before half-past nine. 
 You can all come in now." 
 
 He walked right up to the corpse of the widow, near 
 which he knelt. " It can not be said," grumbled he, 
 " that the work is not properly done ! the assassin is no 
 apprentice ! " Then looking right and left, he continued : 
 " Oh ! oh ! the poor devil was busy with her cooking when 
 he struck her; see her pan of ham and eggs upon the 
 hearth. The brute hadn't patience enough to wait for 
 the dinner. The gentleman was in a hurry, he struck the 
 blow fasting ; therefore he can't invoke the gayety of des- 
 sert in his defense ! " 
 
 " It is evident," said the commissary to the investigat- 
 ing magistrate, " that robbery was the motive of the 
 crime." 
 
 " It is probable," answered Gevrol in a sly way ; " and 
 that accounts for the absence of the silver spoons from the 
 table." 
 
 " Look here ! Some pieces of gold in this drawer ! " 
 exclaimed Lecoq, who had been searching on his own ac- 
 count, " just three hundred and twenty francs ! " 
 
 " Well, I never ! " cried Gevrol, a little disconcerted. 
 But he soon recovered from his embarrassment, and 
 
yy/A LEROUGE CASK. ii 
 
 added : " He must have forgotten them ; that often hap- 
 pens. I have known an assassin, who, after accomplishing 
 the murder, became so utterly bewildered as to depart 
 without remembering to take the plunder, for which he 
 had committed the crime. Our man became excited per- 
 haps, or was interrupted. Some one may have knocked 
 at the door. What makes me more willing to think so is, 
 that the scamp did not leave the candle burning. You see 
 he took the trouble to put it out." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Lecoq. " That proves nothing. He is 
 probably an economical and careful man." 
 
 The investigations of the two agents were continued all 
 over the house ; but their most minute researches resulted 
 in discovering absolutely nothing ; not one piece of evi- 
 dence to convict ; not the faintest indication which might 
 serve as a point of departure. Even the dead woman's 
 papers, if she possessed any, had disappeared. Not a let- 
 ter, not a scrap of paper even, to be met with. From time 
 to time Gevrol stopped to swear or grumble. " Oh ! it is 
 cleverly done ! It is a tiptop piece of -work ! The scoun- 
 drel is a cool hand ! " 
 
 " Well, what do you make of it ? " at length demanded 
 the investigating magistrate. 
 
 " It is a drawn game monsieur," replied Gevrol. " We 
 are baffled for the present. The miscreant has taken his 
 measures with great precaution ; but I will catch him. 
 Before night, I shall have a dozen men in pursuit. Be- 
 sides, he is sure to fall into our hands. He has carried 
 off the plate and the jewels. He is lost ! " 
 
 "Despite all that," said M. Daburon, "we are no fur- 
 ther advanced than we were this morning ! " 
 
 " Well ! " growled Gevrol. " A. man can only do what 
 he can ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " murmured Lecoq in a low tone, perfectly audi- 
 ble, however, " why is not old Tirauclair here ? " 
 
 " What could he do more than we have done ? " 
 retorted Gevrol, directing a furious glance at his subordi- 
 nate. Lecoq bowed his head and was silent, inwardly 
 delighted at having wounded his chief. 
 
 " Who is old Tirauclair ? " asked M. Daburon. " It 
 seems to me that I have heard the name, but I can't re- 
 member where. 
 
 " He is an extraordinary man ! " exclaimed Lecoq. 
 
12 TllK I.KROUGK CASE. 
 
 " He was formerly a clerk at the Mont de Piete," added 
 Gevrol ; " but he is now a rich old fellow, whose real 
 name is Tabaret. He goes in for playing the detective by 
 way of amusement." 
 
 " And to augment his revenues," insinuated the commis- 
 sary. 
 
 " He ? " cried Lecoq. " No danger of that. He works 
 so much for the glory of success that he often spends 
 money from his own pocket. It's his amusement, you see ! 
 At the Prefecture we have nicknamed him ' Tirauclair,' 
 from a phrase he is constantly in the habit of repeating. 
 Ah ! he is sharp, the old weasel ! It was he who in the 
 case of that banker's wife, you remember, guessed that 
 the lady had robbed herself, and who proved it." 
 
 " True ! " retorted GevroJ ; " and it was also he who al- 
 most had poor Dereme guillotined for killing his wife, a 
 thorough bad woman ; and all the while the poor man was 
 innocent." 
 
 " We are wasting our time, gentlemen," interrupted M. 
 Paburon. Then, addressing himself to Lecoq, he added : 
 " Go and find M. Tabaret. I have heard a great deal 
 of him, and shall be glad to see him at work here." 
 
 Lecoq started off at a run. Gevrol was seriously 
 humiliated. " You have of course, sir, the right to 
 demand the services of whom you please," commenced he, 
 ' but yet" 
 
 " Do not," interrupted M. Daburon, " let us lose our 
 tempers, M. Gevrol. I have known you for a long lime, 
 and I know your worth ; but to-day we happen to differ in 
 opinion. You hold absolutely lo your sun-burnt man in 
 the blouse, and I, on my side, am convinced that you are 
 not on the right track ! " 
 
 " I think I am right," replied the detective, " and 1 hope 
 to prove it. I shall find the scoundrel, be he whom he 
 may ! " 
 
 " I ask nothing better," said M. Daburon. 
 
 " Only, permit me, sir, to give what shall I say with- 
 out failing in respect : a piece of advice ? " 
 
 " Speak ! " 
 
 " I would advise you, sir, to distrust old Tabaret." 
 
 " Really ? And for what reason ? " 
 
 " The old fellow allows himself to be carried away too 
 much by appearances. He has become an amateur detec- 
 
THE LEROUGE CASK. 13 
 
 tive for the sake of popularity, just like an author; and, 
 as he is vainer than a peacock, he is apt to lose his tempei 
 and be very obstinate. As soon as he finds himself in 
 the presence of a crime, like this one, for example, he pre- 
 tends he can explain everything on the instant. And he 
 manages to invent a story that will correspond exactly with 
 the situation. He professes, with the help of one single 
 fact, to be able to reconstruct all the details of an assassina- 
 tion, as a savant pictures an antediluvian animal from a 
 single bone. Sometimes he divines correctly ; very often, 
 though, he makes a mistake. Take, for instance, the 
 case of the tailor, the unfortunate Dereme, without 
 me 
 
 " I thank you for your advice," interrupted M. Dabu- 
 ron, " and will profit by it. Now commissary," he con- 
 tinued, " it is most important to ascertain from what part 
 of the country Widow Lerouge came." 
 
 The procession of witnesses under the charge of the 
 corporal of gendarmes were again interrogated by the in- 
 vestigating magistrate. But nothing new was elicited. It 
 was evident that Widow Lerouge had been a singularly 
 discreet woman ; for, although very talkative, nothing in 
 any way connected with her antecedents remained in the 
 memory of the gossips of La Jonchere. All the people 
 interrogated, however, obstinately tried to impart to the 
 magistrate their own convictions and personal conjectures. 
 Public opinion sided with Gevrol. Every voice denounced 
 the tall sunburnt man with the gray blouse. He must 
 surely be the culprit. Everyone remembered his ferocious 
 aspect, which had frightened the whole neighborhood. He 
 had one evening menaced a woman, and another day 
 b'^iten a child. They could point out neither the child nor 
 the woman ; but no matter : these brutal acts were notori- 
 ously public. M. Daburon began to despair of gaining 
 the least enlightenment, when some one brought the wife 
 of a grocer of Bougival, at whose shop the victim used to 
 deal, and a child thirteen years old, who knew, it was said, 
 something positive. 
 
 The grocer's wife first made her appearance. She had 
 heard Widow Lerouge speak of having a son still living. 
 
 " Are you quite sure of that ?" asked the investigating 
 magistrate. 
 
 \s of my existence," answered the woman, " for, on that 
 
I 4 THE LEROCGE CASE. 
 
 evening, yes, it was evening, she was, saving your presence, 
 a little tipsy. She remained in my shop more than an 
 hour." 
 
 "And what did she say ? " 
 
 " I think I see her now," continued the shopkeeper : 
 " she was leaning against the counter near the scales, jest- 
 ing with a fisherman of Marly, old Husson, who can tell 
 you the same ; and she called him a fresh water sailor, 
 ' My husband,' said she, ' was a real sailor, and the proof 
 is, he would sometimes remain years on a voyage, and 
 always used to bring me back cocoa-nuts. I have a son 
 who is also a sailor, like his dead father, in the imperial 
 navy.' " 
 
 " Did she mention her son's name ?" 
 
 " Not that time, but another evening, when she was, if I 
 may say so, very drunk. She told us that her son's name 
 was Jacques, and that she had not seen him for a very 
 long time." 
 
 " Did she speak ill of her husband ? " 
 
 'Never! She only said he was jealous and brutal, 
 though a good man at bottom, and that he led her a miserable 
 life. He was weak-headed, and forged ideas out of noth- 
 ing at all. In fact he was too honest to be wise." 
 
 " Did her son ever come to see her while she lived 
 here ? " 
 
 " She never told me of it." 
 
 " Did she spend much money with you ? " 
 
 " That depends. About sixty francs a month ; some- 
 times more, for she always buys the best brandy. She 
 paid cash for all she bought." 
 
 The woman knowing no more was dismissed. The 
 child, who was now brought forward, belonged to parents 
 in easy circumstances. Tall and strong for his age, he 
 had bright intelligent eyes, and features expressive of 
 watchfulness and cunning. The presence of the magis- 
 trate did not seem to intimidate him in the least. 
 
 " Let us hear, my boy," said M. Daburon, "what you 
 know." 
 
 " Well, sir, a few days ago, on Sunday last, I saw a man 
 at Madame Lerouge's garden-gate." 
 
 " At what time of the day ? " 
 
 "Early in the morning. I was going to church, to 
 serve in the second mass." 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. i$ 
 
 " Well," continued the magistrate, " and this man was 
 tall and sunburnt, and dressed in a blouse ? " 
 
 "No, sir,. on the contrary, he was short, very fat, and 
 old." 
 
 " You are sure you are not mistaken ? " 
 
 " Quite sure," replied the urchin," " I saw him close 
 face to face, for I spoke to him." 
 
 " Tell me, then, what occured ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, I was passing when I saw this fat man at the 
 gate. He appeared very much vexed, oh ! but awfully 
 vexed ! His face was red, or rather purple, as far as the 
 middle of his head, which I could see very well, for it was 
 bare, and had very little hair on it." 
 
 " And did he speak to you first ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, he saw me, and called out, ' Halloa ! young- 
 ster ! ' as I came up to him, and he asked me if I had got a 
 good pair of legs ? I answered yes. Then he took me by 
 the ear, but without hurting me, and said, ' Since that is so, if 
 you v. ill run an errand for me, I will give you ten sous. 
 Run as far as the Seine ; and when you reach the quay, you 
 will notice a large boat moored. Go on board, and ask to 
 see Captain Gervais : he is sure to be there. Tell him that 
 he can prepare to leave, that I am ready.' Then he put 
 ten sous in my hand ; and off I went." 
 
 " If all the witnesses were like this bright little fellow," 
 murmured the commissary, " what a pleasure it would be ! " 
 
 " Now,'' said the magistrate, " tell us how you executed 
 your commission ? " 
 
 " I went to the boat, sir, found the man, and I told him ; 
 and that's all." 
 
 Gevrol, who had listened with the most lively attention, 
 leaned over towards the ear of M. Daburon, and said in a 
 low voice : " Will you permit me, sir, to ask the brat a few 
 questions ? " 
 
 "Certainly, M. Gevrol." 
 
 " Come now, my little friend," said Gevrol, " if you saw 
 this man again, would you know him ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " 
 
 " Then there was something remarkable about him ? " 
 
 " Yes, I should think so ! his face was the colour of a 
 brick?" 
 
 " And is that all ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, sir." 
 
16 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 " But you must remember how he was dressed ; had he a 
 blouse on ? " 
 
 " No ; he wore a jacket. Under the arms were very 
 large pockets, and from out of one of them peeped a blue 
 spotted handkerchief." 
 
 " What kind of trousers had he on ? " 
 
 " I do not remember." 
 
 " And his waistcoat ? " 
 
 " Let me see," answered the. child. " I don't think he 
 wore a waistcoat. And yet, but no, I remember he did 
 not wear one ; he had a long cravat, fastened near his neck 
 by a large ring." 
 
 "Ah! "said Gevro', with an air of satisfaction, "you 
 are a bright boy ; and I wager that if you try hard to re- 
 member you will find a few more details to give us." 
 
 The boy hung down his head, and remained silent. 
 From the knitting of his young brows, it was plain he was 
 making a violent effort of memory. " Yes," cried he sud- 
 denly, " I remember another thing." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " The man wore very large rings in his ears." 
 
 " Bravo ! " cried Gevrol, " here is a complete description. 
 I shall find the fellow now. M. Daburon can prepare a 
 warrant for his appearance whenever he likes." 
 
 " I believe, indeed, the testimony of this child is of the 
 highest importance," said M. Daburon ; and turning to 
 the boy added, " Can you tell us, my little friend, with 
 what this boat was loaded ? " 
 
 " No, sir, I couldn't see because it was decked." 
 
 " Which way was she going, up the Seine or down ? " 
 
 " Neither, sir, she was moored." 
 
 "We know that," said Gevrol. "The magistrate asks 
 you which way the prow of the boat was turned, towards 
 Paris or towards Marly ?" 
 
 " The two ends of the boat seemed alike to me." 
 
 The chief of the detective of police made a gesture of 
 of disappointment. 
 
 " At least," said he, addressing the child again, " you 
 noticed the name of the boat ? you can read I suppose. 
 One should always know the names of the boats one goes 
 aboard of." 
 
 " No, I didn't see any name," said the little boy. 
 
 " If this boat was moored at the quay," remarked M. 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 17 
 
 Daburon, " it was probably noticed by the inhabitants of 
 Bougival." 
 
 " That is true, sir," approved the commissary. 
 
 " Yes," said Gevrol, " and the sailors must have come 
 ashore. I shall find out all about it at the wine shop. 
 But what sort of a man was Gervais, the master, my little 
 friend ? " 
 
 " Like all the sailors hereabouts, sir." 
 
 The child was preparing to depart when M. Daburon 
 recalled him. 
 
 " Before you go, my boy, tell me, have you spoken to 
 any one of this meeting before to-day ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I told all to mamma when I got back from 
 church, and gave her the ten sous." 
 
 " And you have told us the whole truth ? " continued 
 the magistrate. " You know that it is a very grave matter 
 to attempt to impose on justice. She always finds it out, 
 and it is my duty to warn you that she inflicts the most 
 terrible punishment upon liars." 
 
 The little fellow blushed as red as a cherry, and held 
 down his head. 
 
 " I see," pursued M. Daburon, " that you have concealed 
 something from us. Don't you know that the police know 
 everything ? " 
 
 " Pardon ! sir," cried the boy, bursting into tears, 
 " pardon. Don't punish me, and I will never do so again." 
 
 " Tell us, then, how you have deceived us ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, it was not ten sous that the man gave me, 
 it was twenty sous. I only gave half to mamma ; and I 
 kept the rest to buy marbles with." 
 
 " My little friend," said the investigating magistrate, 
 " for this time I forgive you. But let it be a lesson fr 
 the remainder of your life. You may go now, and re- 
 member it is useless to try and hide the truth ; it always 
 comes to light ! " 
 
 II. 
 
 THE two last depositions awakened-in M. Daburon's mind 
 some slight gleams of hope. In the midst of darkness, 
 the humblest rushlight acquires brilliancy. 
 
 " I will go at once to Bougival, sir, if you approve of 
 this step," suggested Gevrol. 
 
i8 Till: tEROUGE CASE. 
 
 "Pci haps you would do well to wait a little," ansuered 
 M. Daburon. "This man was seen on Sunday morning; 
 we will inquire into Widow Lerouge's movements on that 
 day." 
 
 Three neighbours were called. They all declared that 
 the widow had kept her bed all Sunday. To one woman 
 who, hearing she was unwell, had visited her, she said, 
 "Ah! I had last night a terrible accident." Nobody at 
 the time attached any significance to these words. 
 
 " The man with the rings in his ears becomes more and 
 important," said the magistrate, when the woman had re- 
 tired. " To find him again is indispensable : you must 
 see to this, M. Gevrol." 
 
 "Before eight days, I shall have him," replied the chief 
 of detective police, " if I have to search every boat on the 
 Seine, from its source to the ocean. I know the name of 
 the captain, Gervais. The navigation office will tell me 
 something." 
 
 He was interrupted by Lecoq, who rushed into the 
 house breathless. " Here is old Tabaret," he said. " I 
 met him just as he was going out. What a man ! He 
 wouldn't wait for the train, but gave I don't know how 
 much to a cabman ; and we drove here in fifty minutes ! " 
 
 Almost immediately, a man appeared at the door, whose 
 aspect it must be admitted was not at all what one would 
 have expected of a person who had joined the police for 
 honour alone. He was certainly sixty years old and did 
 not look a bit younger. Short, thin, and rather bent, he 
 leant on the carved ivory handle of a stout cane. His 
 round face wore that expression of perpetual astonish- 
 ment, mingled with uneasiness, which has made the for- 
 tunes of two comic actors of the Palais-Royal theatre. 
 Scrupulously shaved, he presented a very short chin, large 
 and good natured lips, and a nose disagreeably elevated, like 
 the broad end of one of Sax's horns. His eyes of a dull gray, 
 were small and red at the lids, and absolutely void of ex- 
 pression ; yet they fatigued the observer by their insup- 
 portable restlessness. A few straight hairs shaded his 
 forehead, which receded like that of a grey-hound, and 
 through their scantiness barely concealed his long ugly 
 ears. He was very comfortably dressed, clean as a new 
 franc piece, displaying linen of dazzling whiteness, and 
 wearing silk gloves and leather gaiters. A long and mas- 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 19 
 
 sive gold chain, very vulgar-looking, was twisted thrice 
 round his neck, and fell in cascades into the pocket of his 
 waistcoat. 
 
 M. Tabaret, surnamed Tirauclair, stood at the thres- 
 hold, and bowed almost to the ground, bending his old 
 back into an arch, and in the humblest of voices asked, 
 "The investigating magistrate has deigned to send for 
 me ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " replied M. Daburon, adding under his breath ; 
 " and if you are a man of any ability, there is at least 
 nothing to indicate it in your appearance." 
 
 " I am here," continued the old fellow, " completely at the 
 service of justice." 
 
 " I wish to know," said M. Daburon, " whether you can 
 discover some clue that will put us upon the track of the 
 assassin. I will explain the " 
 
 " Oh, I know enough of it ! " interrupted old Tabaret. 
 " Lecoq has told me the principal facts, just as much as I 
 desire to know." 
 
 " Nevertheless " commenced the commissary of police. 
 
 " If you will permit me, I prefer to proceed without 
 receiving any details, in order to be more fully master of 
 my own impressions. When one knows another's opinion 
 it can't help influencing one's judgment. I will, if you 
 please, at once commence my researches, with Lecoq's 
 assistance." 
 
 As the old fellow spoke, his little gray eyes dilated, and 
 became brilliant as carbuncles. His face reflected an 
 internal satisfaction ; even his wrinkles seemed to laugh. 
 His figure became erect, and his step was almost elastic, 
 as he darted into the inner chamber. He remained there 
 about half an hour ; then came out running, then re-entered 
 and then again came out ; once more he disappeared and 
 reappeared again almost immediately. The magistrate 
 could not help comparing him to a pointer on the scent, his 
 turned-up nose even moved about as if to discover some 
 subtle odour left by the assassin. All the while he talked 
 loudly and with much gesticulation, apostrophising himself, 
 scolding himself, uttering little cries of triumph or self- 
 encouragement. He did not allow Lecoq to have a 
 moment's rest. He wanted this or that or the other thing. 
 He demanded paper and a pencil. Then he wanted a 
 spade; and finally he cried out for plaster of Paris, sonic 
 
20 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 water and a bottle of oil. When more than an hour had 
 elapsed, the investigating magistrate began to grow impa- 
 tient, and asked what had become of the amateur detective. 
 
 " He is on the road," replied the corporal, " lying Hat 
 in the mud, and mixing some plaster in a plate. He says 
 he has nearly finished, and that he is coming back pres- 
 ently." 
 
 He did in fact return almost instantly, joyous, triumphant, 
 looking at least twenty years younger. Lecoq followed 
 him, carrying with the utmost precaution a large basket. 
 " I have solved the riddle ! " said Tabaret to the magis- 
 trate. " It is all clear now, and as plain as noon-day. 
 Lecoq, my lad, put the basket on the table." 
 
 Gevrol at this moment returned from his expedition 
 equally delighted. " I am on the track of the man with 
 the earrings," said he ; " the boat went down the river. I 
 have obtained an exact description of the master Gervais." 
 
 " What have you discovered, M. Tabaret ! " asked the 
 magistrate. 
 
 The old fellow carefully emptied upon the table the con- 
 tents of the basket, a big lump of clay, several large 
 sheets of paper, and three or four small lumps of plaster 
 yet damp. Standing behind this table, he presented a 
 grotesque resemblance to those mountebank conjurers who 
 in the public squares juggle the money of the lookers-on. 
 His clothes had greatly suffered : he was covered with 
 mud up to the chin. " In the first place," said he, at last, 
 in a tone of affected modesty, " robbery has had nothing 
 to do with the crime that occupies our attention." 
 
 " Oh ! of course not ! " muttered Gevrol. 
 
 "I shall prove it," continued old Tabaret, "by the 
 evidence. By-and-by I shall offer my humble opinion as to 
 the real motive. In the second place, the assassin arrived 
 here before half-past nine ; that is to say, before the rain 
 fell. No more than M. Gevrol have I been able to dis- 
 cover traces of muddy footsteps ; but under the table, on 
 the spot where his feet rested, I find dust. We are thus 
 assured of the hour. The widow did not in the least ex- 
 pect her visitor. She had commenced undressing, and was 
 winding up her cuckoo clock when he knocked." 
 
 "These are absolute details ! " cried the commissary. 
 
 " But easily established," replied the amateur. " You 
 see this cuckoo clock above the secretary : it is one of 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 21 
 
 those which run fourteen or fifteen hours at most, for I 
 have examined it. Now it is more than probable, it is cer- 
 tain, that the widow wound it up every evening before going 
 to bed. How, then, is it that the clock has stopped at five ? 
 Because she must have touched it. As she was drawing the 
 chain, the assassin knocked. In proof, I show this chair 
 standing under the clock, and on the seat a very plain 
 foot-mark. Now look at the dress of the victim ; the body 
 of it is off. In order to open the door more quickly, she 
 did not wait to put it on again, but hastily threw this old 
 shawl over her shoulders." 
 
 " By Jove ! " exclaimed the corporal, evidently struck. 
 
 " The widow," continued the old fellow, "knew the per- 
 son who knocked. Her haste to" open the door gives rise to 
 this conjecture ; what follows proves it. The assassin 
 then gained admission without difficulty. He is a young 
 man, a little above the middle height, elegantly dressed. 
 He wore on that evening a high hat. He carried an um- 
 brella, and smoked a trabucos cigar in a holder." 
 
 " Ridiculous ! " cried Gevrol. " This is too much." 
 
 " Too much, perhaps," retorted old Tabaret. " At all 
 events, it is the truth. If you are not minute in your 
 investigations, I cannot help it ; anyhow, I am. 1 search, 
 and I find. Too much, say you ? Well deign to glance at 
 these lumps of damp plaster. They represent the heels of 
 the boots worn by the assassin, of which I found a most 
 perfect impression near the ditch, where the key was 
 picked up. On these sheets of paper, I have marked in 
 outline the imprint of the foot which I cannot take up, 
 because it is on some sand. Look ! heel high, instep 
 pronounced, sole small and narrow, an elegant boot, 
 belonging to a foot well cared for evidently. Look for 
 this impression all along the path ; and you will find it 
 again twice. Then you will find it five times repeated in 
 the garden where no one else had been ; and these foot- 
 prints prove, by the way, that the stranger knocked not at 
 the door, but at the window-shutter, beneath which shone 
 a gleam of light. At the entrance to the garden, the man 
 leapt to avoid a flower-bed ! the point of the foot, more 
 deeply imprinted than usual, shows it. He leapt more 
 than two yards with ease, proving that he is active, and 
 therefore young." 
 
 Old Tabaret spoke in a low voice, clear and penetrating; 
 
21 TIIR LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 and his eye glanced from one to the other of his auditors, 
 watching the impression he was making. " Does the hut 
 astonish you, M. Gevrol ? " he pursued. " Just look at 
 the circle traced in the dust on the marble top of the 
 secretary. Is it because I have mentioned his height 
 that you are surprised ? Take the trouble to examine the 
 tops of the wardrobes and you will see that the assassin 
 passed his hands across them. Therefore he is taller than 
 I am. Do not say that, he got on a chair, for in that case, 
 he would have seen and would not have been obliged to 
 feel. Are you astonished about the umbrella ? This lump 
 of earth shows an admirable impression not only of the 
 end of the stick, but even of the little round piece of 
 wood which is always placed at the end of the silk. Per- 
 haps you cannot get over the statement that he smoked 
 a cigar? Here is the end of a trabucos that I found 
 amongst the ashes. Has the end been bitten ? No. Has 
 it been moistened with saliva ? No. Then he who smoked 
 it used a cigar-holder." 
 
 Lecoq was unable to conceal his enthusiastic admiration, 
 and noiselessly rubbed his hands together. The commis- 
 sary appeared stupefied, while M. Daburon was delighted. 
 Gevrol's face, on the contrary, was sensibly elongated. 
 As for the corporal, he was overwhelmed. 
 
 " Now," continued the old fellow, " follow me closely. 
 We have traced the young man into the house. How he 
 explained his presence at this hour, I do not know this 
 much is certain, he told the widow he had not dined. The 
 worthy woman was delighted to hear it, and at once set to 
 work to prepare a meal. This meal was not for herself ; 
 for in the cupboard I have found the remains of her own 
 dinner. She had dined off fish ; the autopsy will confirm 
 the truth of this statement. Besides you can see your- 
 selves, there is but one glass on the table, and one knife. 
 But who is this young man ? Evidently the widow looked 
 upon him as a man of superior rank to her own ; for in 
 the cupboard is a table-cloth still very clean. Did she use 
 it ? No. For her guest she brought out a clean linen one, 
 her very best. It is for him this magnificent glass, a 
 present, no doubt, and it is evident she did not often use 
 this knife with the ivory handle." 
 
 " That is all true," murmured M. Daburon, " very 
 true." 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 23 
 
 "Now, then we have got the young man sealed. He 
 began by drinking a glass of wine, while the widow was 
 putting her pan on the fire. Then, his heart failing him, 
 he asked for brandy, and swallowed about five small glass- 
 fuls. After an internal struggle of ten minutes (the time 
 it must have taken to cook the ham and eggs as much as 
 they are), the young man arose and approached the widow, 
 who was squatting down and leaning forward over her 
 cooking. He stabbed her twice on the back ; but she was 
 not killed instantly. She half arose seizing the assassin by 
 the hands ; while he drew back, lifting her suddenly, and 
 then hurling her down in the position in which you see her. 
 This short struggle is indicated by the posture of the 
 body ; for, squatting down and being struck in the 
 back, it is naturally on her back that she ought to have 
 fallen. The murderer used a sharp narrow weapon, which 
 was, unless I am deceived, the end of a foil, sharpened, 
 and with the button broken off. By wiping the weapon 
 upon his victim's skirt, the assassin leaves us this indica- 
 tion. He was not, however, hurt in the struggle. The 
 victim must have clung with a death-grip to his 
 hands ; but, as he had not taken off his lavender kid 
 gloves," 
 
 " Why this is romance," exclaimed Gevrol. 
 
 " Have you examined the dead woman's finger-nails, M. 
 Gevol ? No. Well, do so, and then tell me whether I am 
 mistaken. The woman, now dead, we come to the object 
 of her assassination. What did this well-dressed young 
 gentleman want ? Money ? Valuables ? No ! no ! a hun- 
 dred times no! What he wanted, what he sought, and 
 what he found, were papers, documents, letters, which he 
 knew to be in the possession of the victim. To find them, 
 he overturned everything, upset the cupboards, unfolded 
 the linen, broke open the secretary, of which he could not 
 find the key, and even emptied the mattress of the bed. 
 At last he found these documents. And then do you 
 know what he did with them ? Why, burned them, of 
 course ; not in the fire-place, but in the little stove in 
 the front room. His end accomplished, what does he do 
 next ? He flies, carrying with him all that he finds valua- 
 ble, to baffle detection, by suggesting a robbery. He 
 wrapped everything he found worth taking in the napkin 
 which was to have served him at dinner, and blowing out 
 
24 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 the candle, he fled, locking the door on the outside, and 
 throwing the key into a ditch. And that is all." 
 
 " M. Tabaret," said the magistrate, "your investigation 
 is admirable ; and I am persuaded your inferences are 
 correct." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Lecoq, " is he not collossal, my old Tirau 
 clair ? " 
 
 " Pyramidal ! " cried Gevrol ironically. " I fear, how- 
 ever, your well-dressed young man must have been just a 
 little embarrassed in carrying a bundle covered with a snow 
 white napkin, which could be so easily seen from a dis- 
 tance. 
 
 " He did not carry it a hundred leagues," responded old 
 Tabaret. " You may well believe, that, to reach the railway 
 station, he was not fool enough to take the omnibus. No, 
 he returned on foot by the shortest way, which borders the 
 river. Now on reaching the Seine, unless he is more know- 
 ing than I take him to be, his first care was to throw this 
 tell-tale bundle into the water." 
 
 " Do you believe so, M. Tirauclair ? " asked Gevrol. 
 
 " I don't mind making abet on it ; and the best evidence 
 of my belief is, that I have sent three men, under the sur- 
 veillance of a gendarme, to drag the Seine at the nearest 
 spot from here. If they succeed in finding the bundle, I 
 have promised them a recompense." 
 
 " Out of your own pocket, old enthusiast ? " 
 
 " Yes, M. Gevrol, out of my own pocket." 
 
 ' If they should however find this bundle ! " murmured 
 M. Daburon. 
 
 He was interrupted by the entrance of a gendarme, who 
 said : " Here is a soiled table-napkin, filled with plate, 
 money, and jewels, which these men have found ; they 
 claim the hundred francs' reward, promised them." 
 
 Old Tabaret took from his pocket-book a bank note, 
 which he handed to the gendarme. " Now," demanded 
 he, crushing Gevrol with one disdainful glance, " what 
 thinks the investigating magistrate after this ? " 
 
 " That, thanks to your remarkable penetration, we shall 
 discover, and " 
 
 He did not finish. The doctor summoned to make the 
 post-mortem examination entered the room. That un- 
 pleasant task accomplished, it only confirmed the asser- 
 tions and conjectures of old Tabaret. The doctor ex- 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 25 
 
 plained, as the old man had done, the position of the body. 
 In his opinion also, there had been a struggle. He 
 pointed out a bluish circle, hardly perceptible, round the 
 neck of the victim, produced apparently by the powerful 
 grasp of the murderer ; finally he declared that Widow 
 Lerouge had eaten about three hours before being 
 struck. 
 
 Nothing now remained except to collect the different ob- 
 jects which would be useful for the prosecution, and might 
 at a later period confound the culprit. Old Tabaret exam- 
 ined with extreme care the dead woman's finger-nails ; and, 
 using infinite precaution, he even extracted from behind 
 them several small particles of kid. The largest of these 
 pieces was not above the twenty-fifth part of an inch in 
 length ; but all the same their colour was easily distin- 
 guishable. He put aside also the part of the dress upon 
 which the assassin had wiped his weapon. These with 
 the bundle recovered from the Seine, and the different 
 casts taken by the old fellow, were all the traces the mur- 
 derer had left behind him. It was not much ; but this 
 little was enormous in the eyes of M. Daburon ; and he 
 had strong hopes of discovering the culprit. The greatest 
 obstacle to success in the unravelling of mysterious crimes 
 is in mistaking the motive. If the researches take at the 
 first step a false direction, they are diverted further and 
 further from the truth, in proportion to the length they are 
 followed. Thanks to old Tabaret, the magistrate felt con- 
 fident that he was in the right path. 
 
 Night had come on. M. Daburon had now nothing 
 more to do at La Jonchere ; but Gevrol, who still clung to 
 his own opinion of the guilt of the man with the rings in 
 his ears, declared he would remain at Bougival. He de- 
 termined to employ the evening in visiting the different 
 wine shops, and finding if possible new witnesses. At the 
 moment of departure, after the commissary and the entire 
 party had wished M. Daburon good-night, the latter asked 
 M. Tabaret to accompany him. 
 
 " I was about to solicit that honour," replied the old 
 fellow. They set out together ; and naturally the crime 
 which had been discovered, and with which they were mu- 
 tually preoccupied, formed the subject of their conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 we, or shall we not, ascertain the antecedents 
 
26 THE LEROUGE CASK. 
 
 of this woman!" repeated old Tabaret. "All depends 
 upon that now ! " 
 
 " \\'e shall ascertain them, if the grocer's wife has told 
 the truth," replied M. Daburon. " If the husband of 
 Widow Lerouge was a sailor, and if her son Jacques is in 
 the navy, the minister of marine can furnish information 
 that will soon lead to their discovery. I will write to the 
 minister this very night." 
 
 They reached the station at Rueil, and took their places 
 in the train. They were fortunate enough to secure a 
 first class carriage to themselves. But old Tabaret was 
 was no longer disposed for conversation. He reflected, 
 he sought, he combined ; and in his face might easily be 
 read the working of his thoughts. M.. Daburon watched 
 him curiously and felt singularly attracted by this eccentric 
 old man, whose very original taste had led him to devote 
 his services to the secret police of the Rue de Jerusalem. 
 " M Tabaret," he suddenly asked, " have you been long 
 associated with the police ? " 
 
 " Nine years, M. Daburon, more than nine years ; and 
 permit me to confess I am a little surprised that you have 
 never before heard of me." 
 
 " I certainly knew you by reputation," answered M. Da- 
 buron ; " but your name did not occur to me, and it \N as 
 only in consequence of hearing you praised that I had the 
 excellent idea of asking your assistance. But what, I 
 should like to know, is your reason for adopting this em- 
 ployment ? " 
 
 " Sorrow, sir, loneliness, weariness. Ah ! I have not al- 
 ways been happy ! " 
 
 " I have been told, though, that you are rich." 
 
 The old fellow heaved a deep sigh, which revealed the 
 most cruel deceptions. " I am well off, sir," he replied ; 
 " but I have not always been so. Until I w r as forty-five 
 years old, my life was a series of absurd and useless priva- 
 tions. I had a father who wasted my youth, ruined my life, 
 and made me the most pitiable of human creatures. " 
 
 There are men who can never divest themselves of their 
 professional habits. M. Daburon was at all times and 
 seasons more or less an investigating magistrate. " How, 
 M. Tabaret ; " he inquired, "your father the author of all 
 your misfortunes ? " 
 
 " Alas, yes, sir ! I have forgiven him at last ; but I 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 27 
 
 used to curse him heartily. In the first transports of my 
 resentment, I heaped upon his memory all the insults that 
 can be inspired by the most violent hatred, when I learnt 
 .... But I will confide my history to you, M. Daburon. 
 When I was five and twenty years of age, I was earning 
 two thousand francs a year, as a clerk at the Monte de 
 Piete. One morning my father entered my lodging, and 
 abruptly announced to me that he was ruined, and without 
 food or shelter. He appeared in despair, and talked of 
 killing himself. I loved my father. Naturally, I strove 
 to reassure him ; I boasted of my situation, and explained 
 to him at some length, that, while I earned the means for 
 living, he should want for nothing ; and, to commence, I 
 insisted that henceforth we should live together. No 
 sooner said than done, and during twenty years I was en- 
 cumbered with the old " 
 
 " What ! you repent of your admirable conduct, M. Tab- 
 aret ? " 
 
 " Do I repent of it ! That is to say he deserved to be 
 poisoned by the bread I gave him." 
 
 M. Daburon was unable to repress a gesture of surprise, 
 which did not escape the old fellow's notice. 
 
 " Hear, before you condemn me," he continued. 
 " There was I at twenty-five, imposing upon myself the 
 severest privations for the sake of my father, no more 
 friends, no more flirtations, nothing. In the evenings, to 
 augment our scanty revenues, I worked at copying law 
 papers for a notary. I denied myself even the luxury of 
 tobacco. Notwithstanding this, the old fellow complained 
 without ceasing ; he regretted his lost fortune ; he must 
 have pocket-money, with which to buy this, or that ; my 
 utmost exertions failed to satisfy him. Ah, heaven alone 
 knows what I suffered ! I was not born to live alone and 
 grow old, like a dog. I longed for the pleasures of a home 
 and a family. My dream was to marry, to adore a good 
 wife, by whom I might be loved a little, and to see inno- 
 cent healthy little ones gambolling about my knees. But 
 pshaw ! when such thoughts entered my heart and forced 
 a tear or two from my eyes, I rebelled against myself. I 
 said : ' My lad, when you earn but three thousand francs 
 a year, and have an old and cherished father to support, it 
 is your duty to stifle such desires, and remain a bachelor.' 
 And yet I met a young girl. It is thirty years now since 
 
28 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 that time ; well ! just look at me, I am sure I am blushing 
 as red as a tomato. Her name was Hortense. Who can 
 tell what has become of her ! She was beautiful and 
 poor. Well, I was quite an old man when my father died, 
 the wretch, the .... 
 
 " M. Tabaret ! " interrupted the magistrate, " for shame, 
 M. Tabaret ! " 
 
 " But I have already told you, I have forgiven him, sir. 
 However you will soon understand my anger. On the day 
 of his death, looking in his secretary, I found a memoran- 
 dum of an income of twenty thousand francs ! " 
 
 " How so ! was he rich ? " 
 
 " Yes, very rich ; for that was not all : he owned near 
 Orleans a property leased for six thousand francs a year. 
 He owned, besides, the house I now live in, where we 
 lived together ; and I, fool, sot, imbecile, stupid animal 
 that I was, used to pay the rent every three months to the 
 concierge ! " 
 
 " That was too much ! " M. Daburon could not help say- 
 ing. 
 
 " Was it not, sir ? I was robbing myself of my own 
 money ! To crown his hypocrisy, he left a will wherein 
 he declared, in the name of Holy Trinity, that he had no 
 other aim in view, in thus acting, than my own advantage. 
 He wished, so he wrote, to habituate me to habits of good 
 order and economy, and keep me from the commission of 
 follies. And I was forty-five years old, and for twenty 
 years I had been reproaching myself if ever I spent a 
 single sou uselessly. In short, he had speculated on my 
 good heart, he had .... Bah ! on my word, it is 
 enough to disgust the human race with filial piety ! " 
 
 M. Tabaret's anger, albeit very real" and justified, was so 
 highly ludicrous, that M. Daburon had much difficulty to 
 restrain his laughter, in spite of the real sadness of the 
 recital. 
 
 " At least," said he, " this fortune must have given you 
 pleasure." 
 
 " Not at all, sir, it came too late. Of what avail to have 
 the bread when one has no longer. the teeth ? The mar- 
 riageable age had passed. I resigned my situation, how- 
 ever, to make way for some one poorer than myself. At 
 the end of a month I was sick and tired of life ; and, to 
 replace the affections that had been denied me, I resolved 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 29 
 
 to give myself a passion, a hobby, a mania. I became a 
 collector of books. You think, sir, perhaps that to take 
 an interest in books a man must have studied, must be 
 learned ? " 
 
 " I know, dear M. Tabaret, that he must have money. 
 I am acquainted with an illustrious bibliomaniac who may 
 be able to read, but who is most certainly unable to sign 
 his own name." 
 
 " This is very likely. I, too, can read ; and I read all 
 the books I bought. I collected all I could find which 
 related, no matter how little, to the police. Memoirs, 
 reports, pamphlets, speeches, letters, novels, all suited 
 me ; and I devoured them. So much so, that little by 
 little I became attracted towards the mysterious powef 
 which, from the obscurity of the Rue de Jerusalem, 
 watches over and protects society, which penetrates every- 
 where, lifts the most impervious veils, sees through every 
 plot, divines what is kept hidden, knows exactly the value 
 of a man, the price of a conscience, and which accumulates 
 in its portfolios the most terrible, as well as the most 
 shameful secrets ! In reading the memoirs of celebrated 
 detectives, more attractive to me than the fables of our 
 best authors I became inspired by an enthusiastic admi- 
 ration for those men, so keen scented, so subtle, flexible 
 as steel, artful and penetrating, fertile in expedients, who 
 follow crime on the trail, armed with the law, through the 
 brushwood of legality, as relentlessly as the savages of 
 Cooper pursue their enemies in the depths of the Amer- 
 ican forests. The desire seized me to become a wheel of 
 this admirable machine, a small assistance in the punish- 
 ment of crime and the triumph of innocence. I made the 
 essay ; and I fouud I did not succeed too badly." 
 
 " And does this employment please you ? " 
 
 " I owe to it, sir, my liveliest enjoyments. Adieu weari- 
 ness I since I have abandoned the search for books to 
 the search for men. I shrug my shoulders when I see a 
 foolish fellow pay twenty-five francs for the right of hunt- 
 ing a hare. What a prize ! Give me the hunting of a 
 man ! That, at least, calls the faculties into play, and the 
 victory is not inglorious ! The game in my sport is equal 
 to the hunter ; they both possess intelligence, strength, 
 and cunning. The arms are nearly equal. Ah ! if people 
 but knew the excitement of these games of hide and seek 
 
30 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 which are played between the criminal and the detective, 
 everybody would be wanting employment at the office of 
 of the Rue de Jerusalem. The misfortune is, that the art 
 is becoming lost. Great crimes are now so rare. The 
 race of strong -fearless criminals has given place to the 
 mob of vulgar pick-pockets. The few rascals who are 
 heard of occasionally are as cowardly as foolish. They 
 sign their names to their misdeeds, and even leave their 
 cards lying about. There is no merit in catching them. 
 Their crime found out, you have only to go and arrest them. 
 
 " It seems to me, though," interrupted M. Daburon, 
 smiling, " that our assassin is not such a bungler." 
 
 " He, sir, is an exception ; and I shall have greater de- 
 light in tracking him. I will do everything for that, I will 
 even compromise myself if necessary. For I ought to 
 ccnfess, M. Daburon," added he, slightly embarrassed, 
 " .ha", I do not boast to my friends of my exploits ; I even 
 conceal them as carefully as possible. They would per- 
 haps shake hands with me less warmly did they know that 
 Tirauclair and Tabaret were one and the same." 
 
 Insensibly the crime became again the subject of con- 
 versation. It was agreed, that, the first thing in the 
 morning, M. Tabaret should install himself at Bougival. 
 He boasted that in eight days he should examine all the 
 people round about. On his side M. Daburon promised 
 to keep him advised of the least evidence that transpired, 
 and recall him, if by any chance *he should procure the 
 papers of Widow Lerouge. 
 
 " To you, M. Tabaret," said the magistrate in conclu 
 sion, " I shall be always at home. If you have any occasion 
 to speak to me, do not hesitate to come at night as well as 
 during the day. I rarely go out ; and you will always find 
 me either at my home, Rue Jacob, or in my office at the 
 Palais de Justice. I will give orders for your admittance 
 whenever you present yourself." 
 
 The train entered the station at this moment. M. Da- 
 buron, having called a cab, offered a seat to M. Tabaret. 
 The old fellow declined. " It is not worth while," he 
 replied, " for I live, as I have had the honour of telling 
 you, in the Rue St. Lazare, only a few steps from here." 
 
 " Till to-morrow, then ! " said M. Daburon. 
 
 " Till to-morrow," replied old Tabaret ; and he added 
 w We shall succeed." 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 31 
 
 III. 
 
 M. TABARET'S house was in fact not more than four min- 
 utes' walk from the railway terminus of St. Lazare. It 
 was a fine building carefully kept, and which probably 
 yielded a fine income,though the rents were not too high. 
 The old fellow found plenty of room in it. He occupied 
 on the first floor, overlooking the street, some handsome 
 apartments, well arranged and comfortably furnished, the 
 principal of which was his collection of books. He lived 
 very simply from taste, as well as habit, waited on by an 
 old servant, to whom on great occasions the concierge lent 
 a helping hand. 
 
 No one in the house had the slightest suspicion of the 
 avocations of the proprietor. Besides, even the humblest 
 agent of police would be expected to possess a degree of 
 acuteness for which no one gave M. Tabaret credit. In- 
 deed, they mistook for incipient idiotcy his continual 
 abstraction of mind. It is true that all who knew him 
 remarked the singularity of his habits. His frequent ab- 
 senses from home had given to his proceedings an 
 appearance at once eccentric and mysterious. Never was 
 young libertine more irregular in his habits than this old 
 man. He came or failed to come home to his meals, ate 
 it mattered not what or when. He went out at every 
 hour of the day and night, often slept abroad, and even 
 disappeared for entire weeks at a time. Then too he re- 
 ceived the strangest visitors", odd looking men of suspicious 
 appearance, and fellows of ill-favoured and sinister aspect. 
 This irregular way of living had robbed the old fellow of 
 much consideration. Many believed they saw in him 
 a shameless libertine, who squandered his income in dis- 
 reputable places. They would remark to one another, 
 " Is it not disgraceful, a man of his age ? " He was aware 
 of all this tittle-tattle, and laughed at it. This did not, 
 however, prevent many of his tenants from seeking his 
 society and paying court to him. They would invite him 
 to dinner, but he almost invariably refused. 
 
 He seldom visited but one person of the house, but with 
 that one he was very intimate, so much so indeed, that he 
 was more often in her apartment, than in his own. She 
 was a widow lady, who for fifteen years had occupied an 
 
y THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 apartment on the third floor. Her name was Madame 
 Gerdy, and she lived with her son Noel, whom she adored. 
 
 Noel Gerdy was a man thirty-three years of age, but 
 looking older ; tall and well made, he has a noble and 
 intelligent face, large black eyes, and black hair which 
 curled naturally. A barrister, he passed for having great 
 talent, and greater industry, and had already gained a cer- 
 tain amount of notoriety. He was an obstinate worker, 
 cold and meditative, though devoted to his profession, and 
 affected, with some ostentation, perhaps, a great rigidity of 
 principle, and austerity of manners. 
 
 In Madame Gerdy's apartment, old Tabaret felt himself 
 quite at home. He considered her as a relation, and look- 
 ed upon Noel as a son. In spite of her fifty years, he had 
 often thought of asking the hand of his charming widow, 
 and was restrained less by the fear of a refusal than its 
 consequence. To propose and to be rejected would sever 
 the existing relations, so pleasurable to him. However, 
 he had by his will, which was deposited with his notary 
 constituted this young barrister his sole legatee ; with the 
 single condition of founding an annual prize of two thou- 
 sand francs to be bestowed on the police agent who during 
 the year had unravelled the most obscure and mysterious 
 crime. 
 
 Short as was the distance to his house, old Tabaret was 
 a good quarter of an hour in reaching it. On leaving M. 
 Daburon his thoughts reverted to the scene of the murder ; 
 and, so blinded was the old fellow to external objects, that 
 he moved along the street, first jostled on the right, then 
 on the left, by the busy passers by, advancing one step 
 and receding two. He repeated to himself for the fiftieth 
 time the words uttered by Widow Lerouge, as reported by 
 the milk-woman. " If I wished for any more, I could have 
 it." 
 
 u All is in that," murmured he. " Widow Lerouge 
 possessed some important secret, which persons rich and 
 powerful had the strongest motives for concealing. She 
 had them in her power, and that was her fortune. She 
 made them sing to her tune ; she probably went too far, and 
 so they suppressed her. But of what nature was this se- 
 cret, and how did she become possessed of it ? Most 
 likely she was in her youth a servant in some great family; 
 and whilst there, she saw, heard, or discovered, something. 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 33 
 
 What ? Evidently there is a woman at the bottom of it. 
 Did she assist her mistress in some love intrigue ? What 
 more probable ? And in that case the affair becomes even 
 more complicated. Not only must the woman be found 
 but her lover also ; for it is the lover who has moved in 
 this affair. He is, or I am greatly deceived, a man of no- 
 ble birth. A person inferior rank would have simply 
 hired an assassin. This man has not hung back; he him- 
 self has struck the blow and by that means avoiding the 
 indiscretion or the stupidity of an accomplice. He is a 
 courageous rascal, full of audacity and coolness, for the 
 crime has been admirably executed. The fellow left noth- 
 ing behind of a nature to compromise him seriously. But 
 for me, Gevrol, believing in the robbery, would have seen 
 nothing. Fortunately, however, I was there. . . . But yet it 
 can hardly be that," continued the old man. " It must be 
 something worse than a mere love affair." Old Tabaret 
 entered the porch of the house. The concierge seated by 
 the window of his lodge saw him as he passed beneath the 
 gas lamp. " Ah," said he, " the proprietor has returned 
 at last." 
 
 " So he has," replied his wife, " but it looks as though 
 his princess would have nothing to do with him to-night. 
 He seems more loose than ever." 
 
 " Is it not positively indecent," said the concierge, " and 
 isn't he in a state ! His fair ones do treat him well ! 
 One of these fine mornings I shall have to take him to a 
 lunatic asylum in a straight waistcoat." 
 
 " Look at him now ! " interrupted his wife, "just look at 
 him now, in the middle of the court-yard ! " 
 
 The old fellow had stopped at the extremity of the porch. 
 He had taken off his hat, and, while talking to himself, 
 gesticulated violently. "No," said he, "I have not yet 
 got hold of the clue, I am getting near it ; but have not yet 
 found it out." 
 
 He mounted the staircase, and rang his bell, forgetting 
 that he had his latch-key in his pocket. His housekeeper 
 opened the door. " What, is it you, sir," said she, " and 
 at this hour ! " 
 
 " What's that yon say ? " asked the old fellow. 
 
 " I say," replied the housekeeper, " that it is more than 
 half-past eight o'clock. I thought you were not coming 
 back this evening. Have you at least dined ?" 
 
j.| TIH-: LE ROUGE CASK. 
 
 " No, not yet." 
 
 "Well, fortunately I have kept your dinner warm. 
 You can sit down to it at once." 
 
 Old Tabaret took his place at the table, and helped 
 himself to soup , but mounting his hobby-horse again, he 
 forgot to eat, and remained, his spoon in the air, as 
 though suddenly struck by an idea. 
 
 " He is certainly touched in the head," thought Manette, 
 the housekeeper. " Look at that stupid expression. Who 
 in senses would lead the life he does ? " She touched 
 him on the shoulder, and bawled in his ear, as if he were 
 deaf, " You do not eat. Are you not hungry ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," muttered he, trying mechanically to escape 
 the voice that sounded in his ears, " I am very hungry, 
 for since the morning I have been obliged " He inter 
 rupted himself, remaining with his mouth open, his eyes 
 fixed on vacancy. 
 
 " You were obliged ? " repeated Manette. 
 
 " Thunder ! " cried he, raising his clenched fists towards 
 the ceiling, " heaven's thunder ! I have it ! " 
 
 His movement was so violent and sudden that the 
 housekeeper was a little alarmed, and retired to the further 
 end of the dining-room, near the door. " Yes," continued 
 he, " it is certain there is a child ! " 
 
 Manette approached him quickly. " A child ? " she 
 asked in astonishment. 
 
 " What next ! " cried he in a furious tone. " What are 
 you doing there ? Has your hardihood come to this that 
 you pick up the words which escape me ? Do me the pleas 
 ure to retire to your kitchen, and stay there until I call 
 you." 
 
 " He is going crazy ! " thought Manette, as she dis- 
 appeared very quickly. 
 
 Old Tabaret resumed his seat. He hastily swallowed 
 his soup which was completely cold. " Why," said he to 
 himself, " did I not think of it before ? Poor humanity ! 
 I am growing old, and my brain is- worn out. For it is 
 clear as day ; the circumstances all point to that conclusion." 
 He rang the bell placed on the table beside him ; the ser- 
 vant reappeared. " Bring the roast," he said, " and leave 
 me to myself." 
 
 " Yes," continued he furiously carving a leg of presah 
 mutton, " Yes," there is a child, and here is his history ! 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 35 
 
 Widow Lerouge is in the service of a great lady, im- 
 mensely rich. Her husband, a sailor probably, departs 
 on a long voyage. The lady, who has a lover, finds her- 
 self enceinte. She confides in Widow Lerouge, and with 
 her assistance is clandestinely confined." 
 
 He rang again. " Manette, bring the dessert, and then 
 leave the room ! " 
 
 Certainly such a master was unworthy of so excellent a 
 cook. He would have been puzzled to say what he had 
 eaten for his dinner, or even what he was eating at that mo- 
 ment ; it was some preserved pears. 
 
 " But the child ; what has become of the child ? " mur- 
 mured he. " Has it been destroyed ? No ; for Widow 
 Lerouge, an accomplice in an infanticide, would be no 
 longer formidable. The lover wished it to live, and it was 
 confided to the care of our widow, by whom it has been 
 reared. They have been able to take the child from her, 
 but not the proofs of its birth and its existence. That's what 
 bothered them. The father is the man with the fine car- 
 riage ; the mother is no other than the woman who came with 
 the handsome young man. Ha ! ha ! I can well believe the 
 dear old dame wanted for nothing ! Some secrets are 
 worth a farm in Brie. Two persons to fleece. It is true 
 though that indulging in a lover, her expenses were bound 
 to increase every year. Poor humanity ! the heart has its 
 wants. She turned the screw too much and it broke. 
 She has threatened. They have been frightened, and said, 
 ' Let's put a stop to it ! ' But who has been charged with 
 the commission ? The papa ? No ; he is too old. It is 
 the son ! of course. He wished to save his mother, the 
 pretty boy ! He has cooled the widow and burnt the 
 proofs ! " 
 
 Manette all this time had her ear to the keyhole, and 
 listened intently. From time to time she gleaned a word, 
 an oath, the noise of a blow upon the table ; but that was 
 all. " For certain," thought she, " he is worried about his 
 women. They want him to believe he is a father." Her 
 curiosity so overcame her prudence, that being no longer 
 able to withstand the temptation, she ventured to open the 
 door a little way. " Did you call for your coffee, sir? " 
 she stammered timidly. 
 
 " No, but you may bring it to me," replied old Tabaret. 
 He attempted to swallow it at a gulp, but scalded himself 
 
36 THE LEKOUGE CASE, 
 
 so severely that the pain brought him suddenly from 
 speculation to reality. 
 
 " Thunder ! " growled he : " but it is hot ! Devil take 
 the case ! it has set me beside myself. They are right 
 when they say I am too enthusiastic. But who amongst 
 the whole lot of them could have, by the sole exercise of 
 observation and reason, established the whole history of 
 the assassination ? Certainly not Gevrol, poor man ! 
 Won't he feel vexed and humiliated, being altogether out 
 of it. Shall I seek M. Daburon ? No, not yet. The night 
 is necessary to me to sift to the bottom all the particulars, 
 and arrange my ideas systematically. But. on the other 
 hand, if I sit here all alone, this confounded case will keep 
 me in a fever of speculation, and as I have just eaten a 
 great deal, I may get an attack of indigestion. My faith ! 
 I will call upon Madame Gerdy : she has been ailing for 
 some days past. I will have a chat with Noel, and that 
 will change the course of my ideas." He got up from the 
 table, put on his overcoat, and took his hat and cane. 
 
 " Are you going out, sir ? " asked Manette. 
 
 " Yes," 
 
 " Shall you be late ? " 
 
 " Possibly." 
 
 " But you will return to-night ? " 
 
 " I do not know." One minute later, M. Tabaret was 
 ringing his friend's bell, 
 
 Madame Gerdy lived in respectable style. She pos- 
 sessed sufficient for her wants; and her son's practice, al- 
 ready large, had made them almost rich.- She lived very 
 quietly, and with the exception of one or two friends, 
 whom Noel occasionally invited to dinner, received very 
 few visitors. During more than fifteen years that M. 
 Tabaret came familiarly to the apartments, he had only 
 met the cure of the parish, one of Noel's old professors, 
 and Madame Gerdy's brother, a retired colonel. When 
 these three visitors happened to call on the same evening, 
 an event somewhat rare, they played at a round game 
 called Boston ; on other evenings piquet or all-fours was 
 the rule. Noel, however, seldom remained in the drawing- 
 room, but shut himself up after dinner in his study, which 
 with his bedroom formed a separate apartment to his 
 mother's, and immersed himself in his law papers. He 
 was supposed to work far into the night. Often in winter 
 
THE LEKOUGE CASE. 37 
 
 his lamp was not extinguished before dawn. Mother and 
 son absolutely lived for one another, as all who knew 
 them took pleasure in repeating. They loved and hon- 
 oured Noel for the care he bestowed upon his mother, for 
 his more than filial devotion, for the sacrifices which all 
 supposed he made in living at his age like an old man. 
 The neighbours were in the habit of contrasting the con- 
 duct of this exemplary young man with that of M. Tabaret, 
 the incorrigible old rake, the hairless dangler. As for 
 Madame Gerdy, she saw nothing but her son in all the 
 world. Her love had actually taken the form of worship. 
 In Noel she believed she saw united all the physical and 
 moral perfections. To her he seemed of a superior order 
 to the rest of humanity. If he spoke, she was silent and 
 listened : his word was a command, his advice a decree of 
 Providence. To care for her son, study his tastes, antici- 
 pate his wishes, was the sole aim of her life. She was a 
 mother. 
 
 " Is Madame Gerdy visible ? " asked old Tabaret of 
 the girl who opened the door; and, without waiting for an 
 answer, he walked into the room like a man assured that his 
 presence cannot be inopportune, and ought to be agreea- 
 ble. 
 
 A single candle lighted the drawing-room, which was 
 not in its accustomed order. The small marble-top table, 
 usually in the middle of the room, had been rolled into a 
 corner. Madame Gerdy's large arm-chair was near the 
 window ; a newspaper, all crumpled, lay before it on the 
 carpet. The amateur detective took in the whole at a 
 glance. " Has any accident happened ? " he asked of the 
 girl. 
 
 " Do not speak of it, sir : we have just had a fright ! 
 oh, such a fright ! " 
 
 " What was it ? tell me quickly ! " 
 
 " You know that madame has been ailing for the lasi 
 month. She has eaten I may say almost nothing. This 
 morning, even, she said to me " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! but this evening ? " 
 
 " After her dinner, madame went into the drawing-room 
 as usual. She sat down and took up one of M. Npel's 
 newspapers. Scarcely had she begun to read, when she 
 uttered a great cry, oh, a terrible cry ! We hastened to 
 her; madame had fallen on to the floor, as one dead, M. 
 
33 THE LEROUGE CASK. 
 
 Noel raised her in his arms, and carried her into her room. 
 I wanted to fetch the doctor, sir, but he said there was no 
 need ; he knew what was the matter with her." 
 
 " And how is she now ? " 
 
 " She has come to her senses ; that is to say, I suppose 
 so ; for M. Noel made me leave the room. All that I do 
 know is, that a little while ago she was talking, and talk- 
 ing very loudly too, for I heard her. Ah, sir, it is all the 
 same, very strange ? " 
 
 " What is strange ! " 
 
 " What I heard Madame Gerdy say to M. Noel." 
 
 " Ah ha ! my girl ! " sneered old Tabaret ; " so you 
 listen at key-holes, do you ? " 
 
 " No, sir, I assure you ; but madame cried out like one 
 lost. She said," 
 
 " My girl ! " interrupted old Tabaret severely, " one al- 
 ways hears wrong through key-holes. Ask Manette if 
 that is not so." 
 
 The poor girl, thoroughly confused, sought to excuse 
 herself. 
 
 " Enough, enough ! " said the old man. Return to 
 your work : you need not disturb M. Noel ; I can wait for 
 him very well here." 
 
 And satisfied with the reproof he had administered, he 
 picked up the newspaper, and seated himself beside the 
 fire, placing the candle near him so as to read with ease. 
 A minute had scarcely elapsed when he in his turn 
 bounded in his chair, and stifled a cry of instinctive terror 
 and surprise. These were the first words that met his 
 eye. 
 
 " A horrible crime has plunged the village of La Jon- 
 chere in consternation. A poor widow, named Lerouge, 
 who enjoyed the general esteem and love of the commu- 
 nity, has been assassinated in her home. The officers of 
 the law have made the usual preliminary investigations, and 
 everything leads us to believe that the police are already on 
 the track of the author of this dastardly crime." 
 
 " Thunder ! " said old Tabaret to himself, " can it be that 
 Madame Gerdy? " The idea but flashed across his mind ; 
 he fell back into his chair, and, shrugging his shoulders, 
 murmured, " Really this affair of La Jonchere is driving 
 me out of in y senses! I can think of nothing but this 
 Widow Lerouge. I shall be seeing her in everything now." 
 
77/A LKKOl'CK CASE. 39 
 
 An uncontrollable curiosity caused him to peruse the e itire 
 paper. He found nothing, however, with the exception of 
 those lines, to justify or explain a faintingfit, a cry, or even 
 the slighest emotion. 
 
 " This coincidence is extremely singular," thought the 
 incorrigible police agent. Then, noticing that the news- 
 paper was slightly torn at the lower part, and crumpled, as 
 if by a convulsive grasp, he repeated, " It is very 
 strange ! " 
 
 At this moment the door of Madame Gerdy's bed-room 
 opened, and Noel appeared on the threshold. Without 
 doubt the accident to his mother had greatly excited him ; 
 for he was very pale, and his countenance, ordinarily so 
 calm, wore an expression of great worry. He appeared 
 surprised to see M. Tabaret. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Noel ! " cried the old fellow. " Ease my 
 anxiety. How is your mother ? " 
 
 " Madame Gerdy is as well as can be expected." 
 
 " Madame Gerdy ! " repeated the old fellow with an air 
 of astonishment ; then he continued, " It is plain you have 
 been seriously alarmed." 
 
 " In truth," replied the barrister, seating himself, " I 
 have experienced a rude shock." 
 
 Noel was visibly making the greatest efforts to appear 
 calm, to listen to the old fellow, and to answer him. M. 
 Tabaret, full of anxiety, perceived nothing. " At least, 
 my dear boy," said he, " tell me how this happened ! " 
 
 The young man hesitated a moment, as if debating with 
 himself. No doubt he was unprepared for this point blank 
 question, and knew not what answer to make ; at last 
 he replied, " Madame Gerdy has received a severe 
 blow in learning from a paragraph in this paper that a 
 woman in whom she took a strong interest has been mur- 
 dered." 
 
 " Well I never ! " cried old Tabaret. 
 
 The old fellow was so astonished, that he almost betray- 
 ed himself, and revealed his connection with the police. 
 Pie was on the point of saying : " What ! your mother 
 knew the Widow Lerouge? " By an effort he restrained 
 himself. He had more trouble to hide his satisfaction, for 
 he was delighted to find himself so unexpectedly on the 
 trace of the antecedents of the victim of La Jonchere. 
 
 " She was," continued Noel, " the slave of Madame 
 
40 THE LEROL'GZ CASE. 
 
 Gerdy, devoted to her in every way ! She would have sac- 
 rificed herself for hex at a sign from her hand." 
 
 "Then you, my dear friend, you knew this poor wo- 
 man ! " 
 
 " I had not seen her for a very long time," replied Noel, 
 whose voice seemed broken by emotion, " but I knew her 
 well. I ought even to say I loved her tenderly. She was 
 my nurse." 
 
 " She, this woman ? " stammered old Tabaret. 
 
 This time he was thunderstruck. Widow Lerouge Noel's 
 nurse ? He was most unfortunate. Providence had evi- 
 dently chosen him for its instrument, and was leading him 
 by the hand. He was about to obtain all the information, 
 which half an hour ago he had almost despaired of pro- 
 curing. He remained seated before Noel amazed and 
 speechless. Yet he understood, that, unless he would 
 compromise himself, he must speak. " It is a great misfor- 
 tune," he murmured at last. 
 
 " What it is for Madame Gerdy, I cannot say," replied 
 Noel with a gloomy air ; " but, for me, it is an overwhelm- 
 ing misfortune ! I am struck to the heart by the blow 
 which has slain this poor woman. Her death, M. Tabaret, 
 has annihilated all my dreams of the future, and probably 
 overthrown my most cherished hopes. I had to avenge 
 myself for cruel injuries ; her death breaks the weapon in 
 my hands, and reduces me to despair, to impotence. Alas ! 
 I am indeed unfortunate." 
 
 "You unfortunate?" cried old Tabaret, singularly af- 
 fected by his dear Noel's sadness. " In heaven's name, 
 what has happened to you ? " 
 
 " I suffer," murmured the barrister, " and very cruelly. 
 Not only do I fear that the injustice is irreparable ; but 
 here am I totally without defence delivered over to the 
 shafts of calumny. I may be accused of inventing false- 
 hood, of being an ambitious intriguer, having no regard for 
 truth, no scruples of conscience." 
 
 Old Tabaret was puzzled. What connection could pos- 
 sibly exist between Noel's honour and the assassination at 
 La Jonchere ? His brain was in a whirl. A thousand 
 troubled and confused ideas jostled one another in inex- 
 tricable confusion. " Come, come, Noel," said he, " com- 
 pose yourself. Who would believe any calumny uttered 
 about you ? Take courage, have you not friends ? am I 
 
7 '///: l.EROl'CE CASE. 41 
 
 not here ? Have confidence, tell me what troubles you, 
 and it will be strange, indeed if between us two " 
 
 The barrister started to his feet, impressed by a sudden 
 resolution. 
 
 " Well ! yes," interrupted he, " yes, you shall know all. 
 In fact, I am tired of carrying all alone a secret that is sti- 
 fling me. The part I have been playing irritates and wea- 
 ries me. I have need of a friend to console me. I require a 
 counsellor whose voice will encourage me, for one is a bad 
 judge of his own cause, and this crime has plunged me in- 
 to an abyss of hesitations." 
 
 " You know," replied M. Tabaret kindly, " that I regard 
 you as my own son. Do not scruple to let me serve you." 
 
 " Know then," commenced the barrister, " but no, not 
 here : what I have to say must not be overheard. Let us 
 go into my study." 
 
 IV. 
 
 WHEN Noel and old Tabaret were seated face to face in 
 Noel's study, and the door had been carefully shut, the 
 old fellow felt uneasy, and said : " What if your mother 
 should require anything." 
 
 " If Madame Gerdy rings," replied the young man drily, 
 " the servant will attend to her." 
 
 This indifference, this cold disdain, amazed old Tabaret, 
 accustomed as he was to the affectionate relations always 
 existing between mother and son. " For heaven's sake, 
 Noel," said he, " calm yourself. Do not allow yourself to 
 be overcome by a feeling of irritation. You have, I see, 
 some little pique against your mother, which you will have 
 forgotten to-morrow.. Don't speak of her in this icy tone ; 
 but tell me what you mean by calling her Madame Gerdy ? " 
 " What I mean ? " rejoined the barrister in a hollow 
 tone, " what I mean ? " Then rising from his arm-chair, 
 he took several strides about the room, and, returning to 
 his place near the old fellow, said, " Because, M. Tabaret, 
 Madame Gerdy is not my mother ! " 
 
 This sentence fell like a heavy blow on the head of the 
 amateur detective. " Oh ! " he said, in the tone one as- 
 sumes when rejecting an absurd proposition, " do you 
 really know what you are saying, Noel ? Is it credible ? 
 Is it probable ? " 
 
42 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 " It is improbable," replied Noel with a peculiar empha- 
 sis which was habitual to him : " it is incredible, if you 
 will ; but yet it is true. That is to say, for thirty-three 
 years, ever since my birth, this woman has played a most 
 marvellous and unworthy comedy, to ennoble and enrich 
 her son, for she has a son, at my expense ! " 
 
 " My friend," commenced old Tabaret, who in the back- 
 ground of the picture presented by this singular revela- 
 tion saw again the phantom of the murdered Widow Le- 
 rouge. 
 
 But Noel heard not, and seemed hardly in a state to 
 hear. The young man, usually so cold, so self-contained, 
 could no longer control his anger. At the sound of his 
 own voice, he became more and more animated, as a good 
 horse might at the jingling of his harness. " Was ever 
 man," continued he, " more cruelly deceived, more misera- 
 bly duped, than I have been ! I, who loved this woman, 
 who knew not how to show my affection for her, who, for 
 her sake, sacrificed my youth ! How she must have 
 laughed at me ! Her infamy dates from the moment 
 when for the first time she took me on her knees ; and, 
 until these few days past, she has sustained without falter- 
 ing her execrable role. Her love for me was nothing but 
 hypocrisy ! her devotion, falsehood ! her caresses, lies ! 
 And I adored her ! Ah ! why can I not take back all the 
 embraces I bestowed on her in exchange for her Judas 
 kisses ? And for what was all this heroism of deception, 
 this caution, this duplicity ? To betray me more securely, 
 to despoil me, to rob me, to give to her bastard all that 
 lawfully appertained to me ; my name, a noble name, my 
 fortune, a princely inheritance ! " 
 
 " We are getting near it ! " thought old Tabaret, who 
 was fast relapsing into the colleague of M. Gevrol ; then 
 aloud he said, " This is very serious, all that you have 
 been saying, my dear Noel, terribly serious. We must be- 
 lieve Madame Gerdy possessed of an amount of audacity 
 and ability rarely to be met with in a woman. She must 
 have been assisted, advised, compelled perhaps. Who 
 have been her accomplices ? She could never have man- 
 aged this unaided ; perhaps her husband himself." 
 
 " Her husband ! " interrupted the barrister, with a laugh. 
 " Ah ! you too have believed her a widow. Pshaw ! She 
 never had a husband, the defunct Gerdy never existed. 
 
77/A' LKROUCE CASE. 43 
 
 I was a bastard, dear M. Tnbaret, very much a bastard ; 
 Noel, son of the girl Gerdy and an unknown father ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the old fellow : " that then was the reason 
 why your marriage with Mademoiselle Levernois was 
 broken off four years ago ? " 
 
 " Yes, my friend, that was the reason. And what mis- 
 fortunes might have been averted by this marriage with a 
 young girl whom I loved ! However I did not complain 
 to her whom I then called my mother. She wept, she ac- 
 cused herself, she seemed ready to die of grief : and I, poor 
 fool ! I consoled her as best I could, I dried her tears, and 
 excused her in her own eyes. No, there was no husband. 
 Do such women as she have husbands ? She was my 
 father's mistress ; and, on the day when he had had enough 
 of her, he took up his hat and threw her three hundred thou- 
 sand francs, the price of the pleasures she had given him." 
 
 Noel would probably have continued much longer to 
 pour forth his furious denunciations ; but M. Tabaret stop- 
 ped him. The old fellow felt he was on the point of learn- 
 ing a history in every way similar to that which he had im- 
 agined ; and his impatience to know whether he had 
 guessed aright, almost caused him to forget to express any 
 sympathy for his friend's misfortunes. 
 
 " My dear boy," said he, " do not let us digress. You 
 ask me for advice ; and I am perhaps the best adviser you 
 could have chosen. Come, then, to the point. How have 
 you learned this ? Have you any proofs ? where are 
 they?". 
 
 The decided tone in which the old fellow spoke, should 
 no doubt, have awakened Noel's attention ; but he did not 
 notice it. He had not leisure to reflect. He therefore 
 answered, " I have known the truth for three weeks past. 
 I made the discovery by chance. I have important moral 
 proofs ; but they are mere presumptive evidence. A word 
 from Widow Lerouge, one single word, would have rend' 
 ered them decisive. This word she cannot now pronunce, 
 since they have killed her ; but she had said it to me. 
 Now, Madame Gerdy will deny all. I know her ; with her 
 head on the block, she will deny it. My father doubtless 
 will turn against me. I am certain, and I possess proofs ; 
 now this crime makes my certitude but a vain boast, and 
 renders my proofs null and void ! " 
 
 " Explain it all to me," said old Tabaret after a pause, 
 
44 TIJE LEROUCE CASE. 
 
 " all, you understand. We old ones are sometimes able 
 to give good advice. We will decide what's to be done 
 afterwards." 
 
 "Three weeks ago," commenced Noel, "searching for 
 some old documents, I opened Madame Gerdy's secretary. 
 Accidentally I displaced one of the small shelves : some 
 papers tumbled out, and a packet of letters fell in front 
 of my eyes. A mechanical impulse, which I cannot ex- 
 plain, prompted me to untie the string, and, impelled by 
 an invincible curiosity, I read the first letter which" came 
 to my hand." 
 
 " You did wrong," remarked M. Tabaret. 
 
 " Be it so ; anyhow I read. At the end of ten lines, I 
 was convinced that these letters were from my father, 
 whose name, Madame Gerdy, in spite of my prayers, had 
 always hidden from me. You can understand my emo- 
 tion. I carried off the packet, shut myself up in this room, 
 and devoured the correspondence from beginning to 
 end." 
 
 " And you have been cruelly punished my poor boy ! " 
 
 " It is true ; but who in my position could have resist- 
 ed ? These letters have given me great pain ; but they 
 afford the proof of what I just now told you." 
 
 " You have at least preserved these letters ? " 
 
 " I have them here, M. Tabaret," replied Noel, '" and, 
 that you may understand the case in which I have request- 
 ed your advice, I am going to read them to you." 
 
 The barrister opened one of the drawers of his bureau, 
 pressed an invisible spring, and from a hidden receptacle 
 constructed in the thick upper shelf, he drew out a bundle 
 of letters. " You understand, my friend," he resumed, 
 " that I will spare you all insignificant details, which, 
 however, add their own weight to the rest. I am only go- 
 ing to deal with the more important facts, treating directly 
 of the affair." 
 
 Old Tabaret nestled in his arm-chair, burning with curi- 
 osity ; his face and his eyes expressing the most anxious 
 attention. After a selection, which he was some time in 
 making, the barrister opened a letter, and commenced 
 reading in a voice which trembled at times, in spite of his 
 efforts to render it calm. 
 
 " ' My clearly loved Valerie,' Valerie," said he, " is Mad- 
 ame Gerclv." 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 45 
 
 " I know, I know. Do not interrupt yourself." 
 
 Noel then resumed. 
 
 " ' My dearly loved Valerie, 
 
 " ' This is a happy day. This morning I received your 
 darling letter, I have covered it with kisses, I have re-read 
 it a hundred times ; and now it has gone to join the others 
 here upon my heart. This letter, oh, my love ! has nearly 
 killed me with joy. You were not deceived, then ; it was 
 true ! Heaven has blessed our love. We shall have a son. 
 
 " ' I shall have a son, the living image of my adored 
 Valerie ! Oh ! why are we separated by such an immense 
 distance ? Why have I not wings that I might fly to your 
 feet and fall into your arms, full of the sweetest voluptu- 
 ousness ! No ! never as at this moment have I cursed the 
 fatal union imposed upon me by an inexorable . family, 
 whom my tears could not move. I cannot help hating this 
 woman, who, in spite of me bears my name, innocent vic- 
 tim though she is of the barbarity of our parents. And, 
 to complete my misery, she too will soon render me a father. 
 W T ho can describe my sorrow when I compare the fortunes 
 of these two children ? 
 
 "'The one, the son of the object of my tenderest love, 
 will have neither father nor family, nor even a name, since 
 a law framed to make lovers unhappy prevents my acknowl- 
 edging him. While the other, the son of my detested wife, 
 by the sole fact of his birth, will be rich, noble, surrounded 
 by devotion and homage, with a great position in the world. 
 I cannot bear the thought of this terrible injustice ! How 
 it is to be prevented, I do not know : but rest assured I 
 shall find a way. It is to him who is the mosit desired, 
 the most cherished, the most beloved, that the greater for- 
 tune should come ; and come to him it shall, for I so will it.' " 
 
 " From where is that letter dated ? " asked old Tabaret. 
 The style in which it was written had already settled one 
 point in his mind. 
 
 " See," replied Noel. He handed the letter to the old 
 fellow, who read, " Venice, December, 1828." 
 
 "You perceive," resumed the barrister, "all the import- 
 ance of this first letter. It is like a brief statement of the 
 facts. My father, married in spite of himself, adores his 
 mistress, and detests his wife. Both find themselves en- 
 (vinte at the same time, and his feelings towards the two 
 infants about to be born, are not at all concealed. Towards 
 
4 6 TIH-: LEROL'Cl: CASE. 
 
 the end one almost sees peeping forth the germ ef the 
 idea which later on he will not be afraid to put into execu- 
 tion, in defiance of all law human or divine ! " 
 
 He was speaking as though pleading the cause, when 
 old Tabaret interrupted him. " It is not necessary to ex- 
 plain it," said he. " Thank goodness, what you have just 
 read is explicit enough. I am not an adept in such mat- 
 ters, I am as simple as a juryman ; however I understand 
 it admirably so far." 
 
 " I pass over several letters," continued Noel, " and I 
 come to this one dated Jan. 23, 1829. It is very long, 
 and filled with matters altogether foreign to the subject 
 which now occupies us. However, it contains two pas- 
 sages, which attest the slow but steady growth of my 
 father's project. ' h. destiny, more powerful than my will, 
 chains me to this country ; but my soul is with you, my 
 Valerie ! Without ceasing, my thoughts rest upon the 
 adored pledge of our love which moves within you. Take 
 care, my darling, take care of yourself, now doubly precious. 
 It is the lover, the father, who implores you. The last part 
 of your letter wounds my heart. Is it not an insult to me, 
 for you to express anxiety as to the future of our child ? 
 Oh heaven ! she loves me, she knows me, and yet she 
 doubts ! ' 
 
 " I skip," said Noel, " two pages of passionate rhapsody, 
 and stop at these few lines at the end. 'The countess's 
 condition causes her to suffer very much ! Unfortunate 
 wife ! I hate and at the same time pity her. She seems 
 to divine the reason of my sadness and my coldness. By 
 her timid submission and unalterable sweetness, one would 
 think she sought pardon for our unhappy union. Poor 
 sacrificed creature ! She also may have given her heart to 
 another, before being dragged to the altar. Our fates 
 would then be the same. Your good heart will pardon my 
 pitying her.' 
 
 "That one was my mother," cried the barrister in a 
 trembling voice. "A 'saint ! And he asks pardon for the 
 pity she inspires! Poor woman." He passed his hands 
 over his eyes, as if to force back his tears, and added, 
 " She is dead ! " 
 
 In spite of his impatience, old Tabaret dared not utter 
 a word. Besides he felt keenly the profound sorrow of 
 his young friend, and respected it. After a rather long 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 47 
 
 silence, Noel raised his head, and returned to the cor- 
 respondence. 
 
 " AH the letters which follow," said he, " carry traces 
 of the preoccupation of my father's mind on the subject 
 of his bastard son. I lay them, however, aside. But this 
 is what strikes me in the one written from Rome, on 
 March 5, 1829. ' My son, our son, that is my great, my 
 only anxiety. How to secure for him the future position 
 of which I dream ? The nobles of former times were not 
 worried in this way. In those days I would have gone to 
 the king, who, with a word, would have assured the child's 
 position in the world. To-day, the king who governs with 
 difficulty his disaffected subjects can do nothing. The 
 nobility has lost its rights, and the highest in the land are 
 treated the same as the meanest peasants ! ' Lower down 
 I find, ' My heart loves to picture to itself the likeness 
 of our son. He will have the spirit, the mind, the beauty, 
 the grace, all the fascinations of his mother. He will in- 
 herit from his father, pride, valour, and the sentiments of 
 a noble race. And the other, what will he be like ? I 
 tremble to think of it. Hatred can only engender a 
 monster. Heaven reserves strength and beauty for the 
 children of love ! ' The monster, that is I ! " said the 
 barrister, with intense rage. " Whilst the other But let 
 us ignore these preliminaries to an outrageous action. I 
 only desired up to the present to show you the aberration 
 of my father's reason under the influence of his passion. 
 We shall soon come to the point." 
 
 M. Tabaret was astonished at the strength of this pas- 
 sion, of which Noel was disturbing the ashes. Perhaps 
 he felt it all the more keenly on account of those expres- 
 sions which recalled his own youth. He understood how 
 irresistible must have been the strength of such a love ; 
 and he trembled to speculate as to the result. 
 
 " Here is," resumed Noel, holding up a sheet of paper, 
 " not one of those interminable epistles from which I 
 have read you short extracts, but a simple billet. It is 
 dated from Venice at the beginning of May ; it is short 
 but nevertheless decisive ; ' Dear Valerie, Tell me, as 
 near as possible, the probable date of your confinement. 
 I await your reply with an anxiety 'you would imagine, 
 could you but guess my projects with regard to our 
 child ! ' 
 
48 'J'lIE LEKOL'^E CASE. 
 
 "I do not kno\v," said Noel, "whether Madame Gercly 
 understood ; anyhow she must have answered at once, 
 for this is what my father wrote on the 141)1 : 'Your 
 reply, my darling, is what I did not dare expect it to be. 
 The project I had conceived is now practicable. I begin 
 to feel more calm and secure. Our son shall bear my 
 name ; I shall not be obliged to separate myself from him. 
 He shall be reared by my side, in my mansion, under my 
 eyes, on my knees, in my arms. Shall I have strength 
 enough to bear this excess of happiness ? I have a soul 
 for grief, shall I have one for joy ? Oh ! my adored one, 
 oh ! my precious child, fear nothing, my heart is vast, 
 enough to love you both ! I set out to-morrow for Naples, 
 from whence I shall write to you at length. Happen 
 what may, however, though I should have to sacrifice the 
 important interests confided to me, I shall be in Paris for 
 the critical hour. My presence will double your courage ; 
 the strength of my love will diminish your sufferings.' " 
 
 " I beg your pardon for interrupting you, Noel," said 
 old Tabaret, " do you know what important affairs de- 
 tained your father abroad ? " 
 
 " My father, my old friend," replied the barrister, " was, 
 in spite of his youth, one of the friends, one of the confi- 
 dants, of Charles X. ; and he had been entrusted by him 
 with a secret mission to Italy. My father is Count 
 Rheteau de Commarin." 
 
 " Whew ! " exclaimed the old fellow ; and the better to 
 engrave the name upon his memory, he repeated several 
 times, between his teeth, " Rheteau de Commarin." 
 
 For a few minutes Noel remained silent. After having 
 appeared to do everything to control his resentment, he 
 seemed utterly dejected, as though he had formed the de- 
 termination to attempt nothing to repair the injury he had 
 sustained. " In the middle of the month of May, then," 
 he continued, " my father is at Naples. It is whilst there, 
 that he, a man of prudence and sense, a dignified diplo- 
 matist, a nobleman, prompted by an insensate passion, 
 dares to confide to paper this most monstrous of projects. 
 Listen ! ' My adored one, It is Germain, my old valet, 
 who will hand you this letter. I am sending him to Nor- 
 mandy, charged with a commission of the most delicate 
 nature. He is one of those servitors who may be trusted 
 implicitly. The time has come for me to explain to you 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 49 
 
 my projects respecting my son. In three weeks, at the 
 latest, I shall be in Paris. If my previsions are not de- 
 ceived, the countess and you will be confined at the same 
 time. An interval of three or four days will not alter my 
 plan. This is what I have resolved. My two children 
 will be entrusted to two nurses of N , where my es- 
 tates are nearly all situated. One of these women, known 
 to Germain, and to whom I am sending him, will be in 
 our interests. It is to this person, Valerie, that our son 
 will be confided. These two women will leave Paris the 
 same day, Germain accompanying her who will have 
 charge of the son of the countess. An accident, devised 
 beforehand, will compel these two women to pass one 
 night on the road. Germain will arrange so they will 
 have to sleep in the same inn, and in the same chamber ! 
 During the night, our nurse will change the infants in 
 their cradles. I have foreseen everything, as I will ex- 
 plain to you, and every precaution has been taken to 
 prevent our secret from escaping. Germain has instruc- 
 tions to procure, while in Paris, two sets of baby linen 
 exactly similar. Assist him with your advice. 
 
 " ' Your maternal heart, my sweet Valerie, may perhaps 
 bleed at the thought of being deprived of the innocent 
 caresses of your child. You will console yourself by 
 thinking of the position secured to him by your sacrifice. 
 What excess of tenderness can serve him as powerfully as 
 this separation ? As to the other, I know your fond 
 heart, you will cherish him. Will it not be another proof 
 of your love for me ? Besides, he will have nothing to 
 complain of. Knowing nothing he will have nothing to 
 regret ; and all that money can secure in this world he 
 shall have. Do not tell me that this attempt is criminal. 
 No, my well beloved, no. The success of our plan de- 
 pends upon so many unlikely circumstances, so many 
 coincidences, independent of our will, that, without the 
 evident protection of Providence, we cannot succeed. If, 
 then, success crowns our efforts, it will be because heaven 
 decreed it. Meanwhile I hope.' " 
 
 " Just what I expected," murmured old Tabaret. 
 
 " And the wretched man," cried Noel, " dares to invoke 
 the aid of Providence ! He would make heaven his ac- 
 complice ! " 
 
 " But," asked the old fellow, " how did your mother,-^ 
 4 
 
50 THE LERCUGE CASE. 
 
 pardon me, I would say, how did Madame Gerdy receive 
 this proposition ? " 
 
 " She would appear to have rejected it, at first, for here 
 are twenty pages of eloquent persuasion from the count, 
 urging her to agree to it, trying to convince her. Oh, that 
 woman ! " 
 
 " Come my child," said M. Tabaret, softly, " try not to 
 be too unjust. You seem to direct all your resentment 
 against Madame Gerdy ? Really, in my opinion, the count 
 is far more deserving of your anger than she is." 
 
 " True," interrupted Noel, with a certain degree of vio- 
 lence, " true, the count is guilty, very guilty. He is the 
 author of the infamous conspiracy, and yet I feel no haired 
 against him. He has committed a crime, but he has an 
 excuse, his passion. Moreover, my father has not deceived 
 me, like this miserable woman, every hour of my life, dur- 
 ing thirty years. Besides, M. de Commarin has been so 
 cruelly punished, that, at this present moment, I can only 
 pardon and pity him." 
 
 " Ah ! so he has been punished ? " interrogated the old 
 fellow. 
 
 " Yes, fearfully, as you will admit. But allow me to con- 
 tinue. Towards the end of May, or, rather, during the 
 first days of June, the count must have arrived in Paris, 
 for the correspondence ceases. He saw Madame Gerdy, 
 and the final arrangements of the conspiracy were decided 
 on. Here is a note which removes all uncertainty on that 
 point. On the day it was written, the count was on ser- 
 vice at the Tuileries, and unable to leave his post. He 
 has written it even in the king's study, on the king's paper ; 
 see the royal arms ! The bargain has been concluded, 
 and the woman who has consented to become the instru- 
 ment of my father's projects is in Paris. He informs his 
 mistress of the fact. ' Dear Valerie, Germain informs 
 me of the arrival of your son's, our son's nurse. She will 
 call at your house during the day. She is to be depended 
 upon ; a magnificent recompense ensures her discretion. 
 Do not, however, mention our plans to her ; for she has 
 been given to understand that you know nothing. I wish 
 to charge myself with the sole responsibility of the deed ; 
 
 it is more prudent. This woman is a native of N . 
 
 She was born on our estate, almost in our house. Her 
 husband is a brave and honest sailor. Her name is Clau- 
 
THE LEROUCE CASE. 51 
 
 dine Lerouge. Be of good courage, my dear love ! I am 
 exacting from you the greatest sacrifice that a lover can 
 hope for from a mother. Heaven, you can no longer doubt 
 it, protects us. Everything depends now upon our skill 
 and our prudence, so that we are sure to succeed ! ' ' 
 
 On one point, at least, M. Tabaret was sufficiently en- 
 lightened. The researches into the past life of widow Le- 
 rouge were no longer difficult. He could not restrain an 
 exclamation of satisfaction, which passed unnoticed by 
 Noel. 
 
 " This note," resumed the barrister, " closes the count's 
 correspondence with Madame Gerdy." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed the old fellow, " you are in pos- 
 session of nothing more ? " 
 
 " I have also ten lines, written many years later, which 
 certainly have some weight, but after all are only a moral 
 proof." " 
 
 " What a misfortune ! " murmured M. Tabaret. Noel 
 laid on the bureau the letters he had held in his hand, and. 
 turning towards his old friend, he looked at him steadily, 
 
 " Suppose," said he slowly and emphasising every sylla- 
 ble, " suppose that all my information ends here. We 
 will admit, for a moment, that I know nothing more than 
 you do now. What is your opinion ? " 
 
 Old Tabaret remained some minutes without answering; 
 he was estimating the probabilities resulting from M. de 
 Commarin's letters. " For my own part," said he at length, 
 " I believe on my conscience that you are not Madame 
 Gerdy's son." 
 
 " And you are right ! " answered the barrister forcibly. 
 " You will easily believe, will you not, that I went and saw 
 Claudine. She loved me, this poor woman who had given 
 me her milk, she suffered from the knowledge of the injus- 
 tice that had been done me. Must I say it, her complicity 
 in the matter weighed upon her conscience ; it was a re- 
 morse too great for her old age. I saw her, I interrogated 
 her, and she told me all. The count's scheme, simply and 
 yet ingeniously conceived, succeeded without any effort. 
 Three clays after my birth, the crime was committed, and I, 
 poor, helpless infant, was betrayed, despoiled and disin- 
 herited by my natural protector, by my own father ! Poor 
 Claudine ! She promised me her testimony for the day on 
 which I should reclaim my rights ! " 
 
52 Tin-: L/'.A'ort;;-; CASE. 
 
 " And she is gone, carrying her secret with her ! '' mur- 
 mured the old fellow in a tone of regret. 
 
 " Perhaps ! " replied Noel, " for I have yet one hope. 
 Claudine had in her possession several letters which had 
 been written to her a long time ago, some by the count, 
 some by Madame Gerdy, letters both imprudent and ex- 
 plicit. They will be found, no doubt, and their evidence 
 will be decisive. I have held these letters in my hands, 
 I have read them ; Claudine particularly wished me to 
 keep them, why did I not do so ? " 
 
 No ! there was no hope on that side, and old Tabaret 
 knew so better than any one. It was these very letters, 
 no doubt, that the assassin of La Jonchere wanted. He 
 had found them and had burnt them with the other papers, 
 in the little stove. The old amateur detective was begin- 
 ning to understand. "All the same," said he, "from what 
 I know of your affairs, which I think I know as well as 
 my own, it appears to me that the count has not overwell 
 kept the dazzling promises of fortune he made Madame 
 Gerdy on your behalf." 
 
 " He never even kept them in. the least degree, my old 
 friend." 
 
 " That now," cried the old fellow indignantly, " is even 
 more infamous than all the rest." 
 
 " Do not accuse my father," answered Noel gravely ; 
 " his connection with Madame Gerdy lasted a long time. 
 I remember a haughty-looking man who used sometimes 
 to come and see me at school, and who could be no other 
 than the count. But the rupture came." 
 
 " Naturally," sneered M. Tabaret, " a great nobleman 
 
 "Wait before judging," interrupted the barrister. "M. 
 de Commarin had his reasons. His mistress was false to 
 him, he learnt it, and cast her off with just indignation. 
 Tlie ten lines which I mentioned to you were written 
 then. " 
 
 Noel searched a considerable time among the papers 
 scattered upon the table, and at length selected a letter 
 more faded and creased than the others. Judging from 
 the number of folds in the paper one could guess that it 
 had been read and re-read many times. The writing even 
 was here and there partly obliterated. " In this," said he 
 in a bitter tone, " Madame Gerdy is no longer the adored 
 Valerie : ' A friend, cruel as all true friends, has opened 
 
7 '///.: LEROUGE CASE, 53 
 
 my eyes. I doubted. You have been watched, and to- 
 day, unhappily, I can doubt no more. You, Valerie, you 
 to whom I have given more than my life, you deceive me 
 and have been deceiving me for a long time past. Un- 
 happy man that I am ! I am no longer certain that I am 
 the father of your child. ' ' 
 
 " But this note is a proof," cried old Tabaret, " an over- 
 whelming proof. Of what importance to the count would 
 be a doubt of his paternity, had he not sacrificed his legit- 
 imate son to his bastard ? Yes, you have said truly, his 
 punishment has been severe." 
 
 "Madame Gerdy," resumed Noel, "wished to justify 
 herself. She wrote to the count ; but he returned her let- 
 ters unopened. She called on him, but he would not re- 
 ceive her. At length she grew tired of her useless at- 
 tempts to see him. She knew that all was well over when 
 the count's steward brought her for me a legal settlement 
 of fifteen thousand francs a year. The son had taken my 
 place, and the mother had ruined me ! " 
 
 Three or four light knocks at the door of the study in- 
 terrupted Noel. " Who is there ? " he asked, without stir- 
 ring. 
 
 " Sir," answered the servant from the other side of the 
 door, " maclame wishes to speak to you." 
 
 The barrister appeared to hesitate. " Go, my son, " ad- 
 vised M. Tabaret ; " do not be merciless, only bigots have 
 that right." Noel arose with visible reluctance, and passed 
 into Madame Gerdy's sleeping apartment. 
 
 " Poor boy ! " thought M. Tabaret when left alone. 
 " What a fatal discovery ! and how he must feel it. Such 
 a noble young man ! such a brave heart ! In his candid 
 honesty he does not even suspect from whence the blow 
 has fallen. Fortunately I am shrewd enough for two, and 
 it is just when he despairs of justice, I am confident of 
 obtaining it for him. Thanks to his information, I am 
 now on the track. A child might now divine whose hand 
 struck the blow. But how has'it happened ? He will tell 
 me without knowing it. Ah ! if I had one of those letters 
 for four and twenty hours. He has probably counted 
 them. If I ask for one, I must acknowledge my connec- 
 tion with the police. I had better take one, no matter 
 which, just to verify the handwriting." 
 
 Old Tabaret had just thrust one of the letters into the 
 
5t THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 depths of his capacious pocket, when the barrister returned. 
 He was one of those men of strongly formed character, 
 who never lose their self-control. He was very cunning 
 and had long accustomed himself to dissimulation, that 
 indispensable armour of the ambitious. As he entered 
 the room nothing in his manner betrayed what had taken 
 place between Madame Gerdy and himself. He was ab- 
 solutely as calm as, when seated in his arm-chair, he list- 
 ened to the interminable stories of his clients. 
 
 " Well," asked old Tabaret, " how is she now ? " 
 
 " Worse," answered Noel. " She is now delirious, and 
 no longer knows what she says. She has just assailed me 
 with the most atrocious abuse, upbraiding me as the vilest 
 of mankind ! I really believe she is going out of her 
 mind." 
 
 " One might do so with less cause," murmured M. Tab- 
 aret ; " and I think you ought to send for the doctor." 
 
 "I have just done so." 
 
 The barrister had resumed his seat before his bureau, 
 and was rearranging the scattered letters according to 
 their dates. He seemed to have forgotten that he had 
 asked his old friend's advice ; nor did he appear in any 
 way desirous of renewing the interrupted conversation. 
 This was not at all what old Tabaret wanted. " The more 
 I ponder over your history, my dear Noel," he observed, 
 " the more I am bewildered. I really do not know what 
 resolution I should adopt, were I in your situation." 
 
 " Yes, my old friend," replied the barrister sadly, " it is 
 a situation' that might well perplex even more profound 
 experiences than yours." 
 
 The old amateur detective repressed with difficulty the 
 sly smile, which for an instant hovered about his lips. " I 
 confess it humbly," he said, taking pleasure in assuming 
 an air of intense simplicity, " but you, what have you done ? 
 Your first impulse must have been to ask Madame Gerdy 
 for an explanation." 
 
 Noel made a startled movement, which passed unnoticed 
 by old Tabaret, preoccupied as he was in trying to give 
 the turn he desired to the conversation, " It was by that," 
 answered Noel, " that I began." 
 
 " And what did she say ? " 
 
 " What could she say ! Was she not overwhelmed by 
 the discovery ? " 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 55 
 
 "What ! did she not attempt to exculpate herself? " in- 
 quired the detective greatly surprised. 
 
 " Yes ! she attempted the impossible. She pretended 
 she could explain the correspondence. She told me. . . 
 But can I remember what she said ? Lies, absurd, infamous 
 lies." The barrister had finished gathering up his letters, 
 without noticing the abstraction. He tied them together 
 carefully, and replaced them in the secret drawer of his 
 bureau. 
 
 " Yes," continued he, rising and walking backwards and 
 forward across his study, as if the constant movement could 
 calm his anger, " yes she pretended she could show me I was 
 wrong. It was easy, was it not, with the proofs I held 
 against her ? The fact is she adores her son, and her 
 heart is breaking at the idea that he may be obliged to 
 restitute what he has stolen from me. And I, idiot, fool, 
 coward, almost wished not to mention the matter to her. 
 I said to myself, I will forgive, for after all she has loved 
 me ! Loved ? no. She would see me suffer the most hor- 
 rible tortures, without shedding a tear, to prevent a single 
 hair falling from her son's head." 
 
 " She has probably warned the count," observed old 
 Tabaret, still pursuing his idea. 
 
 " She may have tried, but cannot have succeeded, for 
 the count has been absent from Paris for more than a month 
 and is not expected to return until the end of the week." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " I wished to see the count my father, to speak with 
 him. ..." 
 
 " You ? " 
 
 " Yes, I. Do you think that I shall not reclaim my own ? 
 Do you imagine that I shall not raise my voice. On what 
 account should I keep silent, who have I to consider ? I 
 have rights, and I will make them good. What do you find 
 surprising in that ? " 
 
 " Nothing, certainly, my friend. So then you called at 
 M. de Commarin's house ? " 
 
 " Oh ! I did not decide on doing so all at once," con- 
 tinued Noel. " At first my discovery almost drove me mad. 
 Then I required time to reflect. A thousand opposing 
 sentiments agitated me. At one moment, my fury blinded 
 me ; the next, my courage deserted me. I would, and I 
 would not. I was undecided, uncertain, wild. The scandal 
 
56 r/JE l.EKOl'GE CASE. 
 
 that must arise from the publicity of such an affair terrified 
 me. I desired, I still desire to recover my name, that much 
 is certain. But on the eye of recovering it, I wish to 
 preserve it from stain. I was seeking a means of arranging 
 everything, without noise, without scandal." 
 
 " At length, however, you made up your mind ? " 
 
 " Yes, after a struggle of fifteen days, fifteen days of 
 torture, of anguish ! Ah ! what I suffered in that time ! 
 I neglected my business, being totally unfit for work. 
 During the day, I tried by incessant action to fatigue my 
 body, that at night I might find forgetfulness in sleep. Vain 
 hope ! since I found these letters, I have not slept an hour." 
 
 From time. to time, old Tabaret slily consulted his watch. 
 " M. Daburon will be in bed," thought he. 
 
 " At last one morning," continued Noel, " after a night 
 of rage, I determined to end all uncertainty. I was in 
 that desperate state of mind, in which the gambler, after 
 successive losses, stakes upon a card his last remaining 
 coin. I plucked up courage, sent for a cab, and was driven 
 to the de Commarin mansion." 
 
 The old amateur detective here allowed a sigh of satisfac- 
 tion to escape him. 
 
 " It is one of the most magnificent houses, in the Faubourg 
 St. Germain, my friend, a princely dwelling, worthy a great 
 noble twenty times millionaire ; almost a palace in fact. 
 One enters at first a vast courtyard, to the right and left of 
 which are the stables, containing twenty most valuable 
 horses, and the coach-houses. At the end rises the grand 
 facade of the main building, majestic and severe, with its 
 immense windows, and its double flight of marble steps. 
 Behind the house is a magnificent garden, I should say a 
 park, shaded by the oldest trees which perhaps exist in all 
 Paris." 
 
 This enthusiastic description was not at all what M. 
 Tabaret wanted. But what could he do, how could he press 
 Noel for the result of his visit ! An indiscreet word might 
 awaken the barrister's suspicions, and reveal to him that he 
 was speaking not to a friend, but to a detective. 
 
 " Were you then shown over the house and grounds ? " 
 asked the old fellow. 
 
 " No, but I have examined them alone. Since I discov- 
 ered that I was the only heir of the Rheteau de Commarins, 
 I have found out the antecedents of mv new familv. I have 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 57 
 
 studied our history at the Bibliotheque ; it is a noble history. 
 At night, utterly distracted, I have again and again wan- 
 dered round the dwelling of my ancestors. Ah ! you cannot 
 understand my emotions ! ' It is there,' said I to myself, 
 ' that I was born ; there that I should have been brought 
 up ; there that I ought to reign to-day ! ' I tasted that 
 awful bitterness of which banished men have died. I com- 
 pared the bastard's brilliant destinies with my own sad and 
 laborious career ; and my indignation well-nigh mastered 
 me. A mad impulse stirred me to force the doors, to rush 
 into the principal drawing-room and drive out the intruder, 
 the girl Gerdy's son, crying : ' Get out, bastard, get out, I 
 am the master here ! ' The certainty of obtaining my rights 
 whenever I wished, alone restrained me. Oh ! yes, I know 
 it well, this dwelling of my ancestors ! I love its old sculp- 
 tures, its grand old trees, even the flagstones of the court- 
 yard worn by the footsteps of my mother ! I love all ; 
 especially the proud escutcheon, which frowns down from 
 above the principal entrance and flings a haughty defiance 
 to the stupid theories of this age of levellers." 
 
 This last phrase contrasted so strongly with the opinions 
 usually expressed by the young barrister, that M. Tabaret 
 was obliged to turn away his head to conceal his amuse- 
 ment. " Poor humanity !" thought he. " He sees himself 
 a great lord already." 
 
 " When I arrived," resumed Noel, " a Swiss porter, 
 dressed in a gorgeous livery, was standing at the door. I 
 asked to see the Count de Commarin. The Swiss replied 
 that the count was travelling, but that the viscount was at 
 home. This interfered with my plans ; however, as I had 
 gone so far, I insisted on speaking to the son in default of 
 the father. The Swiss stared at me with astonishment. 
 He had seen me alightfrom a hired vehicle and so deliber- 
 ated with himself for some moments as to whether I was not 
 too insignificant a person to have the honour of appearing 
 before the viscount." 
 
 " However, you were able to speak with him ? " 
 " What, like that, all at once ! " replied the barrister in 
 a tone of bitter raillery, " can you possibly think so, my 
 dear M. Tabaret ! The inspection, however, was favorable 
 to me ; my white cravat and black clothes produced an 
 effect. The Swiss entrusted me to the guidance of a hunts- 
 man with a plumed hat, who led the way across the court- 
 
58 THE I.EKOUGE CASK. 
 
 yard to a superb vestibule, where five or six footmen were 
 lolling and gaping on their seats. One of these gentlemen 
 asked me to follow him. He led me up a spacious stair- 
 case, wide enough for a carriage to ascend, preceded me 
 along an extensive picture gallery, guided me across vast 
 apartments, the furniture of which was fading under its 
 coverings, and finally delivered me into the hands of M. 
 Albert's valet. That is the name by which Madame Ger- 
 dy's son is known, that is to say, my name." 
 
 " I understand, I understand." 
 
 " I had passed an inspection ; now I had to undergo an 
 examination. The valet desired to be informed who I was, 
 whence I came, what was was my profession, what I wanted 
 and all the rest. I answered simply, that, quite unknown 
 to the viscount, I desired five minutes' conversation with 
 him on a matter of importance. He left me, requesting 
 me to sit down and wait. I had waited more than a quarter 
 of an hour, when he reappeared. His master graciously 
 deigned to receive me." 
 
 It was easy to perceive that the barrister's reception 
 rankled in his breast, and that he considered it an insult. 
 He could not forgive Albeit his lackeys and his valet. 
 He forgot the words of the illustrious duke, who said, " I 
 pay my lackeys to be insolent, to save myself the trouble 
 and ridicule of being so." Old Tabaret was surprised at 
 his young friend's display of bitterness, in speaking of 
 these trivial details. " What narrow-mindedness," thought 
 he, " for a man of such intelligence ! Can it be true that 
 the arrogance of lackeys is the secret of the people's 
 hatred of an amiable and polite aristocracy ? " 
 
 " I was ushered into a small apartment," continued 
 Noel, " simply furnished, the only ornaments of which 
 were weapons. These, ranged against the walls, were of 
 all times and countries. Never have I seen in so small a 
 space so many muskets, pistols, swords, sabres, and foils. 
 One might have imagined himself in a fencing master's 
 arsenal." 
 
 The weapon used by Widow Lerouge's assassin naturally 
 recurred to the old fellow's memory. 
 
 " The viscount," said Noel, speaking slowly, " was half 
 lying on a divan when I entered. He was dressed in a 
 velvet jacket and loose trousers of the same material and 
 had around his neck an immense white silk scarf. I do 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 59 
 
 not cherish any resentment against this young man ; he 
 has never to his knowledge injured me : he was in igno- 
 rance of our father's crime ; I am therefore able to speak 
 of him with justice. He is handsome, bears himself well, 
 and nobly carries the name which does not belong to him. 
 He is about my height, of the same dark complexion, and 
 would resemble me, perhaps, if he did not wear a beard. 
 Only he looks five or six years younger ; but this is readily 
 explained, he has neither worked, struggled, nor suffered. 
 He is one of the fortunate ones who arrive without having 
 to start, or who traverse life's road on such soft cushions 
 that they are never injured by the jolting of their carriage. 
 On seeing me, he arose and saluted me graciously." 
 
 " You must have been dreadfully excited," remarked old 
 Tabaret. 
 
 " Less than I am at this moment. Fifteen preparatory 
 days of mental torture exhausts one's emotions. I an- 
 swered the question I saw upon his lips. ' Sir,' said I, 
 ' you do not know me ; but that is of little consequence. 
 I come to you, charged with a very grave, a very sad mis- 
 sion, which touches the honor of the name you bear.' 
 Without doubt he did not believe me, for, in an impertinent 
 tone, he asked me, ' Shall you be long ? ' I answered sim- 
 ply, 'Yes.'" 
 
 " Pray," interrupted old Tabaret, now become very 
 attentive, " do not omit a single detail ; it may be very 
 important, you understand." 
 
 " The viscount," continued Noel, " appeared very much 
 put out. ' The fact is,' he explained, ' I had already dis- 
 posed of my time. This is the hour at which I call on the 
 young lady to whom I am engaged, Mademoiselle d'Ar- 
 lange. Can we not postpone this conversation ? ' ' 
 
 " Good ! another woman ! " said the old fellow to him- 
 self. 
 
 " I answered the viscount, that an explanation would ad- 
 mit of no delay ; and, as I saw him prepare to dismiss me, 
 I drew from my pocket the count's correspondence, and 
 presented one of the letters to him. On recognizing his 
 father's handwriting, he became more tractable, declared 
 himself at my service, and asked permission to write a 
 word of apology to the lady by whom, he was expected. 
 Having hastily written the note he handed it to his valet, 
 and ordered him to send it at once to Madame d'Arlange. 
 
60 THE LE ROUGE CAXE. 
 
 He then asked me to pass into the next room, which was 
 his Tibrary." 
 
 " One word," interrupted the old fellow ; " was he 
 troubled on seeing the letters ? " 
 
 " Not the least in the world. After carefully closing 
 the door, he pointed to a chair, seated himself, and said, 
 ' Now, sir, explain yourself.' I had had time to prepare 
 myself for this interview whilst waiting in the ante-room. 
 I had decided to go straight to the point. ' Sir,' said I, 
 ' my mission is painful. The facts I am about to reveal to 
 you are incredible. I beg you, do not answer me until 
 you have read the letters I have here. I beseech you, 
 above all, to keep calm.' He looked at me with an air of 
 extreme surprise, and answered, ' Speak ! I can hear all.' 
 I stood up, and said, ' Sir, I must inform you that you are 
 not the legitimate son of M. de Commarin, as this corres- 
 pondence will prove to you. The legitimate son exists ; 
 and he it is who sends me.' I kept my eyes on his while 
 speaking, and I saw there a passing gleam of fury. For a 
 moment I thought he was about to spring at my throat. 
 He soon recovered himself. ' The letters,' said he in a 
 short tone. I handed them to him. " 
 
 " How ! " cried old Tabaret, " these letters, the true 
 ones ? How imprudent ! " 
 
 " And why ? " 
 
 " If he had I don't know ; but " the old fellow hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 The barrister laid his hand upon his friend's .shoulder. 
 " I was there," said he in a hollow tone ; " and I promise 
 you the letters were in no danger." 
 
 Noel's features assumed such an expression of ferocity 
 that the old fellow was almost afraid, and recoiled in- 
 stinctively. " He would have killed him," thought he. 
 
 " That which I have done for you this evening, my 
 friend," resumed the barrister, " I did for the viscount. 
 I obviated, at least for the moment, the necessity of 
 reading all of these hundred and fifty-six letters. I told 
 him only to stop at those marked with a cross, and to care- 
 fully read the passages indicated with a red pencil." 
 
 " It was an abridgment of his penance," remarked old 
 Tabaret. 
 
 " He was seated," continued Noel, " before a little table, 
 too fragile even to lean upon. I was standing with my 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 61 
 
 back to the fireplace in which a fire was burning. I fol- 
 lowed his slightest movements ; and I scanned his features 
 closely. Never in my life have I seen so sad a spectacle, 
 nor shall I forget it, if I live for a thousand years. In 
 less than five minutes his face changed to such an extent 
 that his own valet would not have recognized him. He 
 held his handkerchief in his hand, with which from time to 
 time he mechanically wiped his lips. He grew paler and 
 paler, and his lips became as white as his handkerchief. 
 Large drops of sweat stood upon his forehead, and his eyes 
 became dull and clouded, as if a film had covered them ; 
 but not an exclamation, not a sigh, not a groan, not even a 
 gesture, escaped him. At one moment, I felt such pity for 
 him that I was almost on the point of snatching the letters 
 from his hands, throwing them into the fire and taking him 
 in my arms, crying, ' No, you are my brother ! Forget all ; 
 let us. remain as we are and love one another! ' ' 
 
 M. Tabaret took Noel's hand, and pressed it. " Ah ! " 
 he said, " I recognise my generous boy." 
 
 " If I have not done this, my friend, it is because I 
 thought to myself, ' Once these letters destroyed, would he 
 recognise me as his brother ? ' ' 
 
 " Ah ! very true.'" 
 
 " In about half an hour, he had finished reading; he 
 arose, and facing me directly, said, 'You are right, sir. If 
 these letters are really written by my father, as I believe 
 them to be, they distinctly prove that I am not the son of 
 the Countess de Commarin.' I did not answer. ' Mean- 
 while,' continued he, ' these are only presumptions. Are 
 you possessed of other proofs ? ' I expected, of course, a 
 great many other objections. 'Germain,' said I, 'can 
 speak.' He told me that Germain had been dead for sev- 
 eral years. Then I spoke of the nurse, Widow Lerouge. 
 I explained how easily she could be found and questioned, 
 adding that she lived at La Jonchere." 
 
 " And what said he, Noel, to this ? " asked old Tabaret 
 anxiously. 
 
 " He remained silent at first, and appeared to reflect. 
 All on a sudden he struck his forehead, and said, ' I remem- 
 ber ; I know her. I have accompanied my father to her 
 house three times, and in my presence he gave her a con- 
 siderable sum of money.' I remarked to him that this was 
 yet another proof. He made no answer, but walked up 
 
62 THE LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 and down the room. At length he turned towards me, sav- 
 ing, ' Sir, you know M. de Commarin's legitimate son ? ' 
 I answered : ' I am he.' He bowed his head and murmured 
 ' I thought so.' He then took my hand and added : ' Brother, 
 I bear you no ill will for this.' " 
 
 " It seems to me," remarked old Tabaret, that he might 
 have left that to you to say, and with more reason and 
 justice." 
 
 " No, my friend, for he is more ill-used than I. I have 
 not been lowered, for I did not know, whilst he.'. . . ." 
 
 The old police agent nodded his head, he had to hide 
 his thoughts, and they were stifling him. 
 
 " At length," resumed Noel, after a rather long pause, " I 
 asked him what he proposed doing. ' Listen,' he said, ' I 
 expect my father in about eight or ten days. You will al- 
 low me this delay. As soon as he returns I will have an 
 explanation with him, and justice shall be done. I give you 
 my word of honour. Take back your letters and leave me 
 to myself. This news has utterly overwhelmed me. In a 
 moment I lose everything : a great name that I have always 
 borne as worthily as possible, a magnificent position, an im- 
 mense fortune, and, more than all that, perhaps, the woman 
 who is dearer to me than life. In exchange, it is true, I shall 
 find a mother. We will console each other. And I will 
 try, sir, to make her forget you, for she must love you, and 
 will miss you.' " 
 
 " Did he really say that ? " , 
 
 " Almost word for word." 
 
 " Hypocrite ! " growled the old fellow between his teeth. 
 
 " What did you say ? " asked Noel. 
 
 " I say that he is a fine young man ; and I shall be de- 
 lighted to make his acquaintance." 
 
 " I did not show him the letter referring to the rupture," 
 added Noel ; " it is best that he should ignore Madame 
 Gerdy's misconduct. I voluntarily deprived myself of this 
 proof, rather than give him further pain." 
 
 "And now?" 
 
 " What am I to do ? I am waiting the count's return. I 
 shall act more freely after hearing what he has to say. To- 
 morrow I shall ask permission to examine the papers be- 
 longing to Claudine. If I find the letters, I am saved ; if 
 not, but, as I have told you, I have formed no plan since 
 I heard of the assassination. Now, what do you advise ? " 
 
7 HE LEROUGE CASE. 63 
 
 "The briefest counsel demands long reflection," replied 
 the old fellow, who was in haste to depart. "Alas! my 
 poor boy, what worry you have had ! " 
 
 " Terrible ! and, in addition, I have pecuniary embar- 
 rassments." 
 
 " How ! you who spend nothing ? " 
 
 " I have entered into various engagements. Can I now 
 make use of Madame Gerdy's fortune, which I have hith 
 erto used as my own ? I think not." 
 
 " You certainly ought not to. But listen ! I am glad you 
 have spoken of this ; you can render me a service." 
 
 " Very willingly. What is it ? " 
 
 " I have, locked up in my secretary, twelve or fifteen 
 thousand francs, which trouble me exceedingly. You see, 
 I am old, and not very brave, if any one heard I had this 
 money " 
 
 " I fear I cannot " commenced the barrister. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said the old fellow. " To-morrow I will 
 give them you to take care of." But remembering he was 
 about to put himself at M. Daburon's disposal, and that 
 perhaps he night not be free on the morrow, he quickly ad- 
 ded, " No, not to-morrow ; but this very evening. This in- 
 fernal money shall not remain another night in my keeping." 
 
 He hurried out, and presently reappeared, holding in his 
 hand fifteen notes of a thousand francs each. " If that is 
 not sufficient," said he, handing them to Noel, "you can 
 have more." 
 
 "Anyhow," replied the barrister, " I will give you a re- 
 ceipt for these." 
 
 " Oh ! never mind. Time enough to-morrow." 
 
 " And if I die to-night ? " 
 
 " Then said the old fellow to himself, thinking of his will, 
 "I shall still be your debtor. Good-night ! " added he aloud. 
 You have asked my advice , I shall require the night for re- 
 flection. At present my brain is whirling ; I must go into 
 the air. If I go to bed now, I am sure to have a horrible 
 nightmare. Come, my boy ; patience and courage. Who 
 knows whether at this very hour Providence is not working 
 for you ? " 
 
 He went out, and Noel, leaving his door open, listened 
 to the sound of his footsteps as he descended the stairs. 
 Almost immediately the cry of, " Open, if you please," and 
 the banging of the door apprised him that M. Tabaret had 
 
64 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 gone out. He waited a few minutes and refilled his lamp. 
 Then he took a small packet from one of his bureau drawers 
 slipped into his pocket the bank notes lent him by his old 
 friend, and left his study, the door of which he double-locked 
 On reaching the landing, he paused. He listened intently 
 as though the sound of Madame Gerdy's moans could reach 
 him where he stood. Hearing nothing, he descended the 
 stairs on tiptoe. A minute later, he was in the street. 
 
 V. 
 
 INCLUDED in Madame Gerdy's lease was a coach-house, 
 which was used by her as a lumber room. Here were 
 heaped together all the old rubbish of the household, 
 broken pieces of furniture, utensils past service, articles 
 become useless or cumbrous. It was also used to store 
 the provision of wood and coal for the winter. This old 
 coach-house had a small door opening on the street, which 
 had been in disuse for many years ; but which Noel had 
 had secretly repaired and provided with a lock. He 
 could thus enter or leave the house at any hour without 
 the concierge or any one else knowing. It was by this 
 door that the barrister went out, though not without using 
 the utmost caution in opening and closing it. Once in 
 the street, he stood still a moment, as if hesitating which 
 way to go. Then, he slowly proceeded in the direction of 
 the St. Lazare railway station, when a cab happening to 
 pass, he hailed it. " Rue du Faubourg Montmarte, at 
 the corner of the Rue de Provence," said Noel, entering 
 the vehicle, " and drive quick." 
 
 The barrister alighted at the spot named, and dismissed 
 the cabman. When he had seen him drive off, Noel 
 turned into the Rue de Provence, and, after walking a 
 few yards, rang the bell of one of the handsomest houses 
 in the street. The door was immediately opened. As 
 Noel passed before him the concierge made a most 
 respectful, and at the same time patronizing bow, one of 
 those salutations which Parisian concierges reserve for 
 their favorite tenants, generous mortals always ready to 
 give. On reaching the second floor, the barrister paused, 
 drew a key from his pocket, and opening the door facing 
 him, entered as if at home. But at the sound of the key 
 in the lock, though very faint, a lady's maid, rather young 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 65 
 
 and pretty, with a bold pair of eyes, ran toward him. 
 "Ah! it is you, sir," cried she. This exclamation escaped 
 her just loud enough to be audible at the extremity of the 
 apartment, and serve as a signal if needed. It was as if 
 she had cried, " Take care ! " " Noel did not seem to notice 
 it. " Madame is there ? " asked he. 
 
 " Yes, sir, and very angry too. This morning she 
 wanted to send some one to you. A little while ago she 
 spoke of going to find you, sir, herself. I have had much 
 difficulty in prevailing on her not to disobey your orders." 
 
 " Very well," said the barrister. 
 
 " Madame is in the smoking room," continued the girl. 
 " I am making her a cup of tea. Will you have one, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Noel. " Show me a light, Charlotte." 
 
 He passed successively through a magnificent dining- 
 room, a splendid gilded drawing-room in Louis XIV. style, 
 and entered the smoking-room. This was a lather large 
 apartment with a very high ceiling. Once inside one 
 might almost fancy oneself three thousand miles from 
 Paris, in the house of some opulent mandarin of the celes- 
 tial Empire. Furniture, carpet, hangings, pictures, all 
 had evidently been imported direct from Hong Kong or 
 Shanghai. A rich silk tapestry representing brilliantly 
 coloured figures, covered the walls, and hid the doors 
 from view. All the empire of the sun and moon was 
 depicted thereon in vermillion landscapes : corpulent 
 mandarins surrounded by their lantern-bearers ; learned 
 men lay stupefied with opium, sleeping under their para- 
 sols ; young girls with elevated eyebrows, stumbled upon 
 their diminutive feet swathed in bandages. The carpet 
 of a manufacture unknown to Europeans, was strewn 
 with fruits and flowers, so true to nature that they might 
 have deceived a bee. Some great artist of Pekin had 
 painted on the silk which covered the ceiling numerous 
 fantastic birds, opening on azure ground their wings of 
 purple and gold. Slender rods of lacquer, inlaid with 
 mother of pearl, bordered the draperies, and marked the 
 angles of the apartment. Two fantastic looking chests 
 entirely occupied one side of the room. Articles of furni- 
 ture of capricious and incoherent forms, tables with 
 porcelain tops, and chiffoniers of precious woods encum- 
 bered every recess or angle. There were also ornamental 
 cabinets and shelves purchased of Lien-Tsi, the Tahan of 
 
 5 
 
06 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 . Sou-Tcheou, the artistic city, and a. thousand curiosities, 
 both miscellaneous and costly, from the ivory sticks which 
 are used instead of forks, to the porcelain teacups, 
 thinner than soap bubbles, miracles of the reign of Kien- 
 Loung. A very large and very low divan piled up with 
 cushions, covered with tapestry similar to the hangings, 
 occupied one end of the room. There was no regular 
 window, but instead a large single pane of glass, nxed 
 into the wall of the house ; in front of it was a double 
 glass door with moveable panes, and the space between 
 was filled with the most rare flowers. The grate was 
 replaced by registers adroitly concealed, which maintained 
 in the apartment a temperature fit for hatching silkworms, 
 thus truly harmonising with the furniture. 
 
 When Noel entered, a woman, still young, was reclining on 
 the divan, smoking a cigarette. In spite of the tropical heat, 
 she was enveloped in heavy Cashmere shawls. She was 
 small, but then only small women can unite in their 
 persons every perfection. Women who are above the 
 medium height must be either essays, or errors of nature. 
 No matter how lovely they may look, they invariably 
 present some defect, like the work of a statuary, who, 
 though possessed of genius, attempts for the first time 
 sculpture on a grand scale. She was small, but her neck, 
 her shoulders, and her arms had the most exquisite con- 
 tours. Her hands with their tapering fingers and rosy 
 nails looked like jewels preciously cared for. Her feet, 
 encased in silken stockings almost as thin as a spider's 
 web, were a marvel ; not that they recalled the very fab- 
 ulous foot which Cinderella thrust into the glass slipper ; 
 but the other, very real, very celebrated and very palpable 
 foot, of which the fair owner (the lovely wife of a well- 
 known banker) used to present the model either in bronze 
 or in marble to her numerous admirers. Her face was 
 not beautiful, nor even pretty ; but her features were 
 such as one seldom forgets ; for, at the first glance, they 
 startled the beholder like a flash of lightning. Her 
 forehead was a little high, and her mouth unmistakeably 
 large, notwithstanding the provoking freshness of her lips. 
 Her eyebrows were so perfect they seem to have been 
 drawn with India ink ; but, unhappily the pencil had been 
 used too heavily ; and they gave her an unpleasant 
 expression when she frowned. On the other hand, her 
 
THE I.EROUGE CASE. 67 
 
 smooth complexion had a rich golden pallor; and her 
 black and velvety eyes possessed enormous magnetic 
 power. Her teeth were of a pearly brilliancy and white- 
 ness, and her hair, of prodigious opulence, was black and 
 line, and glossy as a raven's wing. 
 
 On perceiving Noel, as he pushed aside the silken hang- 
 ings, she half arose and leaned upon her elbow. " So you 
 have come at last ? " she observed in a tone of vexation ; 
 " you are very kind." 
 
 The barrister felt almost suffocated by the oppressive 
 temperature of the room. " How warm it is ! " said he ; 
 " it is enough to stifle one ! " 
 
 " Do you find it so ? " replied the young woman. 
 " Well, I am actually shivering ! It is true though, that I 
 am very unwell. Waiting is unbearable to me, it acts up- 
 on my nerves ; and I have been waiting for you ever since 
 yesterday." 
 
 " It was quite impossible for me to come," explained 
 Noel, " quite impossible ! " 
 
 " You knew, however," continued the lady, " that to-day 
 was my settling day; and that I had several heavy ac- 
 counts to settle. The tradesmen all came, and I had not 
 a half-penny to give them. The coachmaker sent his bill, 
 but there was no money. Then that old rascal Clergot, to 
 whom I had given an acceptance for three thousand francs, 
 came and kicked up a hell of a row. How pleasant all 
 this is ! " 
 
 Noel bowed his head like a schoolboy rebuked for hav- 
 ing neglected his lessons. " It is but one day behind," 
 he murmured. 
 
 " And that is nothing, is it ? " retorted the young woman. 
 " A man who respects himself, my friend, may allow his 
 own signature to be dishonored, but never that of his mis- 
 tress ! Do you wish to destroy my credit altogether ? 
 You know very well that the only consideration I receive 
 is what my money pays for. So as soon as I am unable 
 to pay, it will be all up with me." 
 
 " My dear Juliette," began the barrister gently. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! that's all very fine," interrupted she. " Your 
 dear Juliette ! your adored Juliette ! so long as you are 
 here it is really charming ; but no sooner are you outside 
 than you forget everything. Do you ever remember then 
 that there is such a person as Juliette ?" 
 
68 THE LEKOl'UE CASE. 
 
 " How unjust you are ! " replied Noel. " Do you not 
 know that I am always thinking of you : have I not proved 
 it to you a thousand times ? Look here ! I am going to 
 prove it to you again this very instant." He withdrew 
 from his pocket the small packet he had taken out of his 
 bureau drawer, and, undoing it, showed her a handsome 
 velvet casket. " Here/' said he exultingly, " is the brace- 
 let you longed for so much a week ago at Beaugran's." 
 
 Madame Juliette, without rising, held out her hand to 
 cake the casket, and, opening it with the utmost indiffer- 
 ence, just glanced at the jewel, and merely said, V Ah ! " 
 
 " Is this the one you wanted ? " asked Noel. 
 
 " Yes, but it looked much prettier in the shop window." 
 She closed the casket, and threw it carelessly on to a small 
 table near her. 
 
 " I am unfortunate this evening," said the barrister, 
 much mortified. 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 " I see plainly the bracelet does not please you." 
 
 " Oh, but it does. I think it lovely .... besides, it 
 complete the two dozen." 
 
 It was now Noel's turn to say : " Ah !...." and as 
 Juliette said nothing, he added : " Well, if you are pleased, 
 you do not show it." 
 
 " Oh ! so that is what you are driving at ! " cried the 
 lady. " I am not grateful enough to suit you ! You bring 
 me a present, and I ought at once to pay cash, fill the 
 house with cries of joy, and throw myself upon my knees 
 before you, calling you a great and magnificent lord ! " 
 
 Noel was unable this time to restrain a gesture of impa- 
 tience, which Juliette perceived plainly enough, to her 
 great delight. 
 
 " Would that be sufficent ? " continued she. " Shall I 
 call Charlotte, so that she may admire this superb bracelet, 
 this monument of your geTierosity ? Shall I have the con- 
 cierge up, and call the cook to tell them how happy I am 
 to possess such a magnificent lover. 
 
 The barrister shrugged his shoulders like a philosopher, 
 incapable of noticing a child's banter. " What is the use 
 of these insulting jests ? " said he. " If you have any real 
 complaint against me, better to say so simply and seri- 
 ously." 
 
 "Very well," said Juliette, "let us be serious. And 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 69 
 
 that being so, I will tell you it would have been better to 
 have forgotten the bracelet, and to have brought me last 
 night or this morning the eight thousand francs I wanted." 
 
 " I coulcl not come." 
 
 " You should have sent them ; messengers are still to be 
 found at the street-corners." 
 
 " If I neither brought nor sent them, my dear Juliette, 
 it was because I did not have them. I had trouble enough 
 in getting them promised me for to-morrow. If I have the 
 sum this evening, I owe it to a chance upon which I could 
 not have counted an hour ago ; but by which I profited, at 
 the risk of compromising myself." 
 
 " Poor man ! " said Juliette, with an ironical touch of 
 pity in her voice. " Do you dare to tell me you have had 
 difficulty in obtaining ten thousand francs, you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I ! " 
 
 The young woman looked at her lover, and burst into a 
 fit of laughter. " You are really superb when you act the 
 poor young man ! " said she. 
 
 " I am not acting." 
 
 " So you say, my own. But I see what you are aiming 
 at. This amiable confession is the preface. To-morrow 
 you will declare that your affairs are very much embar- 
 rassed, and the day after to-morrow Ah ! you are 
 
 becoming very avaricious. It is a virtue you used not to 
 possess. Do you not already regret the money you have 
 given me ? " 
 
 " Wretched woman ! " murmured Noel, fast losing pa- 
 tience. 
 
 " Really," continued the lady, " I pity you, oh ! so much. 
 Unfortunate lover ! Shall I get up a subscription for you ? 
 In your place, I would appeal to public charity." 
 
 Noel could stand it no longer, in spite of his resolution 
 to remain calm. " You think it a laughing matter ? " cried 1 
 he. " Well ! let me tell you, Juliette, I am ruined, and I 
 have exhausted my last resources ! I am reduced to ex- 
 pedients ! " 
 
 The eyes of the young woman brightened. She 
 looked at her lover tenderly. " Oh, if 'twas only true, my 
 big pet ! " said she. " If I only could believe you ! " 
 
 The barrister was wounded to the heart. " She 
 believes me," thought he ; " and she is glad. She detests 
 me." 
 
70 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 He was mistaken. The idea that a man had loved hei 
 sufficiently to ruin himself for her, without allowing even 
 a reproach to escape him, filled this woman with joy. 
 She felt herself on the point of loving the man, now poor 
 and humbled, whom she had despised when rich and 
 proud. But the expression of her eyes suddenly changed. 
 " What a fool I am," cried she, " I was on the point of 
 believing all that, and of trying to console you. Don't 
 pretend that you are one of those' gentlemen who scatter 
 their money broadcast. Tell that to somebody else, my 
 friend ! All men in our days calculate like money-lenders. 
 There are only a few fools who ruin themselves now, some 
 conceited youngsters, and occasionally an amorous old 
 dotard. Well, you are a very calm, very grave, and very 
 serious fellow, but above all, a very strong one." 
 
 " Not with you, anyhow," murmured Noel. 
 
 " Come now, stop that nonsense ! You know very well 
 what you are about. Instead of a heart, you have a great 
 big double zero, just like a Homburg. When you took a 
 fancy to me, you said to yourself, 'I will expend so much 
 on passion,' and you have kept your word. It is an 
 investment, like any other, in which one receives interest 
 in the form of pleasure. You are capable of all the 
 extravagance in the world, to the extent of your fixed 
 price of four thousand francs a month ! If it required a 
 franc more you would very soon take back your heart 
 and your hat, and carry them elsewhere; to one or other 
 of my rivals in the neighborhood." 
 
 " It is true," answered the barrister, coolly. " I know 
 how to count, and that accomplishment is very useful to 
 me ! It enables me to know exactly how and where I 
 have got rid of my fortune." 
 
 " So you really know ? " sneered Juliette. 
 
 " And I can tell you, madam," continued he. " At first 
 you were not very exacting , but the appetite came with 
 eating. You wished for luxury, you have it; splendid 
 furniture, you have it ; a complete establishment, extrav- 
 agant dresses, I could refuse you nothing. You required 
 a carriage, a horse, I gave them you. And I do not men 
 tion a thousand other whims. I include neither this 
 Chinese cabinet nor the two dozen bracelets. The tota) 
 is four hundred thousand francs I " 
 
 "Are you sure ? " 
 
/'//A t.EROl'C,!: CASE. 71 
 
 " As sure as any one can be who has had that amount, 
 and has it no longer." 
 
 "Four hundred thousand francs, only fancy! Are 
 there no centimes ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then, my dear friend, if I make up my bill, you will 
 still owe me something." 
 
 The entrance of the maid with the tea-tray interrupted 
 this amorous duet, of which Noel had experienced more 
 than one repetition. The barrister held his tongue on 
 account of the servant. Juliette did the same on account 
 of her lover, for she had no secrets for Charlotte, who had 
 been with her three years, and with whom she had shared 
 everything, sometimes even her lovers. 
 
 Madame Juliette Chaffour was a Parisian. She was 
 born about 1839, somewhere in the upper end of the Fau- 
 bourg Montmarte. Her father was unknown. Her in- 
 fancy was a long alternation of beatings and caresses, 
 equally furious. She had lived as best she could, on 
 sweetmeats and damaged fruit ; so that now her stomach 
 could stand anything. At twelve years old she was as 
 thin as a nail, as green as a June apple, and more 
 depraved than the inmates of the prison of St. Lazare. 
 Prudhomme would have said that this precocious little 
 hussy was totally destitute of morality. She had not the 
 slightest idea what morality was. She thought the world 
 was full of honest people living like her mother, and her 
 mother's friends. She feared neither God nor devil, but 
 she was afraid of the police. She dreaded also certain 
 mysterious and cruel persons, whom she had heard 
 spoken of, who dwell near the Palais de Justice, and who 
 experience a malicious pleasure in seeing pretty girls in 
 trouble. As she gave no promise of beauty, she was on 
 the point of being placed in a shop, when an old and 
 respectable gentleman, who had known her mamma some 
 years previously, accorded her his protection. This old 
 gentleman, prudent and provident like all old gentlemen, 
 was a connoisseur, and knew that to reap one must sow. 
 He resolved first of all to give his protege just a varnish of 
 education. He procured masters for her, who in less 
 than three years taught her to write, to play the piano, 
 and to dance. What he did not procure her, however, 
 was a lover. She therefore found one for herself, an 
 
72 THE LEROL'GE CASK. 
 
 artist who taught her nothing very ne\v, but who carried 
 her off to offer her half of what he possessed, that is to 
 say nothing. At the end of three months, having had 
 enough of it, she left the nest of her first love, with all she 
 possessed tied up in a cotton pocket handkerchief. 
 
 During the four years which followed, she led a preca- 
 rious existence, sometimes with little else to live upon but 
 hope, which never wholly abandons a young girl who 
 knows she has pretty eyes. By turns she sunk to the 
 bottom, or rose to the surface of the stream in which she 
 found herself. Twice had fortune in new gloves come 
 knocking at her door, but she had not the sense to keep 
 her. With the assistance of a strolling player, she had 
 just appeared on the stage of a small theatre, and spoken 
 her lines rather well, when Noel by chance met her, loved 
 her, and made her his mistress. Her barrister, as she 
 called him, did not displease her at first. After a few 
 months, though, she could not bear him. She detested him 
 for his polite and polished manners, his manly bearing, 
 his distinguished air, his contempt, which he did not care 
 to hide, for all that is low and vulgar, and, above all, for 
 his unalterable patience, which nothing could tire. Her 
 great complaint against him was that he was not at all 
 funny, and also, that he absolutely declined to conduct her 
 to those places where one can give a free vent to one's 
 spirits. To amuse herself, she began to squander money ; 
 and her aversion for her lover increased at the same rate 
 as her ambition and his sacrifices. She rendered him the 
 most miserable of men, and treated him like a dog ; and 
 this not from any natural badness of disposition, but from 
 principle. She was persuaded that a woman is beloved 
 in proportion to the trouble she causes and the mischief 
 she does. 
 
 Juliette was not wicked, and she believed" she had much 
 to complain of. The dream of her life was to be loved in 
 a way which she felt, but could scarcely have explained. 
 She had never been to her lovers more than a plaything. 
 She understood this ; and, as she was naturally proud, 
 the idea enraged her. She dreamed of a man who would 
 be devoted enough to make a real sacrifice for her, a lover 
 who would descend to her level, instead of attempting to 
 raise her to his. She despaired of ever meeting such a 
 one. Noel's extravagance left her as cold as ice. She 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 73 
 
 believed he was very rich, and singularly, in spite of her 
 greediness, she did not care much for money. Noel would 
 have won her easier by a brutal frankness that would have 
 shown her clearly his situation. He lost her love by the 
 delicacy of his dissimulation, that left her ignorant of the 
 sacrifices he was making for her. 
 
 Noel adored Juliette. Until the fatal day he saw her, 
 he had lived like a sage. This, his first passion, burned 
 him up; and, from the disaster, he saved only appear- 
 ances. 
 
 The four walls remained standing, but the interior of 
 the edifice was destroyed. Even heroes have their vulner- 
 able parts, Achilles died from a wound in the heel. The 
 most artfully constructed armour has a flaw somewhere. 
 Noel was assailable by means of Juliette, and through her 
 was at the mercy of everything and every one. In four 
 years, this model young man, this barrister of immaculate 
 reputation, this austere moralist, had squandered not only 
 his own fortune on her, but Madame Gerdy's also. He 
 loved her madly, without reflection, without measure, with 
 his eyes shut. At her side, he forgot all prudence, and 
 thought out loud. In her boudoir, he dropped his mask of 
 habitual dissimulation, and his vices displayed themselves 
 at ease, as his limbs in a bath. He felt himself so power- 
 less against her, that he never essayed to struggle. She 
 possessed him. Once or twice he attempted to firmly op- 
 pose her ruinous caprices ; but she had made him pliable 
 as the osier. Under the dark glances of this girl, his 
 strongest resolutions melted more quickly than snow be- 
 neath an April sun. She tortured him ; but she had also 
 the power to make him forget all by a smile, a tear, or a 
 kiss. Away from the enchantress, reason returned at in- 
 tervals, and, in his lucid moments, he said to himself, 
 '" She does not love me. She is amusing herself at my 
 expense ! " But the belief in her love had taken such 
 deep root in his heart that he could not pluck it forth. He 
 made himself a monster of jealousy, and then argued with 
 himself respecting her fidelity. On several occasions he 
 had strong reasons to doubt her constancy, but he never 
 had the courage to declare his suspicions. " If I am not 
 mistaken, I shall either have to leave her," thought he, 
 " or accept everything in the future." At the idea of a sep- 
 aration from Juliette, he trembled, and felt his passion 
 
74 THE l.EKOi'CE CASE. 
 
 strong enough to compel him to submit to the lowest in- 
 dignity. He preferred even these heartbreaking doubts 
 to a still more dreadful certainty. 
 
 The presence of the maid who took a considerable time 
 in arranging the tea-table gave Noel an opportunity to re- 
 cover himself. He looked at Juliette ; and his anger took 
 flight. Already he began to ask himself if he had not been 
 a little cruel to her. When Charlotte retired, he came and 
 took a seat on the divan beside his mistress, and attempted 
 to put his arms round her. "Come," said he in a cares- 
 sing tone, "you have been angry enough for this evening. 
 If I have done wrong, you have punished me sufficiently. 
 Kiss me, and make if up." 
 
 She repulsed him angrily, and said in a dry tone, " Let 
 me alone ! How many times must I tell you that I am 
 very unwell this evening." 
 
 " You suffer, my love ? " resumed the barrister, "where ? 
 Shall I send for the doctor ? " 
 
 " There is no need. I know the nature of my malady ; 
 it is called ennui. You are not at all the doctor who could 
 do anything for me." 
 
 Noel rose with a discouraged air, and took his place at 
 the side of the tea-table, facing her. His resignation be- 
 spoke how habituated he had become to these rebuffs. 
 Juliette snubbed him ; but he returned always, like the 
 poor dog who lies in wait all day for the time when his 
 caresses will not be inopportune. " You have told me 
 very often during the last few months, that I bother you. 
 What have I done ? " he asked. 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Well, then, why ? " 
 
 " My life is nothing more than a continual yawn," an 
 swered the young woman ; " is it my fault ? Do you think, 
 it very amusing to be your mistress ? Look at yourself. 
 Does there exist another being as sad, as dull as you, 
 more uneasy, more suspicious, devoured by a greater jeal- 
 ousy ! " 
 
 " Your reception of me, my dear Juliette," ventured Noel 
 " is enough to extinguish gaiety and freeze all effusion. 
 Then one always fears when one loves ! " 
 
 " Really ! Then one should seek a woman to suit one- 
 self, or have her made to order ; shut her up in the cellar, 
 and have her brought upstairs once a day, at the end of 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 75 
 
 dinner, during dessert, or with the champagne just by way 
 of amusement." 
 
 " I should have done better not to have come," murmured 
 the barrister. 
 
 " Of course. I am to remain alone here, without anything 
 to occupy me except a cigarette and a stupid book, that I 
 go to sleep over ? Do you call this an existence, never to 
 budge out of the house even ? " 
 
 " It is the life of all the respectable women that I know," 
 replied the barrister drily. 
 
 " Then I cannot compliment them on their enjoyment. 
 Happily, though, I am not a respectable woman, and I 
 can tell you I am tired of living more closely shut up than 
 the wife of a Turk, with your face for sole amusement." 
 
 " You live shut up, you ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! " continued Juliette, with increased bitter- 
 ness. " Come, have you ever brought one of your friends 
 here ? No, you hide me. When have you offered me 
 your arm for a walk ? Never, your dignity would be sul- 
 lied, if you were seen in my company. I have a carriage. 
 Have you entered it half a dozen times ? Perhaps ; but 
 then you let down the blinds ! I go out alone. I walk 
 about alone ! " 
 
 " Always the same refrain," interrupted Noel, anger get- 
 ting the better of him, " always these uncalled for com- 
 plaints. As though you had still to learn the reason why 
 this state of things exists." 
 
 " I know well enough," pursued the young woman, 
 " that you are ashamed of me. Yet I know many bigger 
 swells then you, who do not mind being seen with their 
 mistresses. My lord trembles for his fine name of Gercly 
 that I might sully, while the sons of the most noble famv- 
 lies are not afraid of showing themselves in public places 
 in the company of the stupidest of kept women." 
 
 At last Noel could stand it no longer, to the great 
 delight of Madame Charfour. " Enough of these recrim- 
 inations ! " cried he, rising. " If I hide our relations, it is 
 because I am constrained to do so. Of what do you com- 
 plain ? You have unrestrained liberty ; and you use it, 
 too, and so largely that your actions altogether escape me. 
 You accuse me of creating a vacuum around you. Who 
 is to blame ? Did I grow tired of a happy and quiet exis- 
 lemv ? Mv friends would have come to see us in honu.- 
 
76 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 in accordance with a modest competence. Can I bring 
 them here ? On seeing all this luxury, this insolent dis- 
 play of my folly, they would ask each other where I 
 obtained all the money I have spent on you. I may have 
 a mistress, but I have not the right to squander a fortune 
 that does not belong to me. If my acquaintances learnt 
 to-morrow that it is I who keep you, my future prospects 
 would be destroyed. What client would confide his inter- 
 ests to the imbecile who ruined himself for the woman 
 who has been the talk of all Paris ? I am not a great lord, 
 1 have neither an historical name to tarnish, nor an im- 
 mense fortune to lose. I am plain Noel Gerdy, a barris- 
 ter. My reputation is all that I possess. It is a false 
 one, I admit. Such as it is, however, I must keep it, and 
 I will keep it." 
 
 Juliette who knew her Noel thoroughly, saw that she 
 had gone far enough. She determined, therefore, to put 
 him in a good humor again. " My friend," said she, tend- 
 erly, " I did not wish to cause you pain. You must be 
 indulgent, I am so horribly nervous this evening. "' 
 
 This sudden change delighted the barrister, and almost 
 sufficed to calm his anger. " You will drive me mad with 
 your injustice," said he. "While I exhaust niy imagina- 
 tion to find what can be agreeable to you, you ave perpet- 
 ually attacking my gravity ; yet it is not forty-eight hours 
 since we were plunged in all the gaiety of tht carnival. I 
 kept the fete of Shrove Tuesday like a student. We 
 \vent to a theatre ; I then put on a domino, and accompa- 
 nied you to the ball at the opera, and ever, invited two of 
 my friends to sup with us." 
 
 " It was very gay indeed ! " answered the young woman, 
 making a wry face. 
 
 " So I think." 
 
 " Do you ! Then you are not hard to please. We 
 went to the Vaudeville, it is true, but separately, as we 
 always do, I alone above, you below. At the ball you 
 looked as though you were burying the devil. At the sup 
 per table your friends were as melancholy as a pair of owL. 
 I obeyed your orders by affecting hardly to know you. 
 You imbibed like a sponge, without my being able to tell 
 whether you were drunk or not." 
 
 "That "proves," interrupted Noei, " that we ought not 
 to force our tastes. Let us talk of something else." He 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 77 
 
 took a few steps in the room, then looking at his watch 
 said : " Almost one o'clock ; my love, I must leave you." 
 
 " What ! you are not going to remain ? " 
 
 " No, to my great regret ; my mother is dangerously ill. 
 He unfolded and counted out on the table the bank notes 
 he had received from old Tabaret. 
 
 " My little Juliette," said he, " here are not eight thou- 
 sand francs, but ten thousand. You will not see me 
 again for a few days," 
 
 " Are you leaving Paris, then ? " 
 
 11 No ; but my entire time will be absorbed by an affair 
 of immense importance to myself. If I succeed in my 
 undertaking,, my dear, our future happiness is assured, and 
 you will then see whether I love you ! " 
 
 " Oh, my clear Noel, tell me what it is." 
 
 " I cannot now." 
 
 " Tell me I beseech you," pleaded the young woman, 
 hanging round his neck, raising herself upon the tips of 
 her toes to press her lips to his. The barrister embraced 
 her ; and his resolution seemed to waver. 
 
 " No," said he at length, " seriously I cannot. Of what 
 use to awaken in you hopes which can never be realized ? 
 Now, my darling, listen to me. Whatever may happen, 
 understand, you must under no pretext whatever again 
 come to my house, as you once had the imprudence to do. 
 Do not even write to me. By disobeying, you may do me 
 an irreparable injury. If any accident occurs, send that 
 old rascal Clergot to me. I shall have a visit from him 
 the day after to-morrow, for he holds some bills of mine," 
 
 Juliette recoiled, menacing Noel with a mutinous ges- 
 ture. " You will not tell me anything ? " insisted she. 
 
 " Not this evening, but very soon.'' replied the barrister, 
 embarrassed by the piercing glance of his mistress. 
 
 "Always some mystery!" cried Juliette, piqued at the 
 want of success attending her blandishments. 
 
 " This will be the last, I swear to you ! " 
 
 " Noel, my good man," said the young woman in a 
 serious tone, "you are hiding something from me. I 
 understand you, as you know ; for several days past there 
 has been something or other the matter with you, you have 
 completely changed." 
 
 " I swear to you, Juliette " 
 
 " No, swear nothing ; I should not believe you. Only 
 
;S THE LEKOUGE 
 
 remember, no attempt at deceiving me, I forewarn you. I 
 am a woman capable of revenge." 
 
 The barrister was evidently ill at ease. " The affair in 
 question," stammered he, " can as well fail as succeed." 
 
 "Enough," interrupted Juliette; "your will shall be 
 obeyed. I promise that. Come, sir, kiss me. I am going 
 to bed." 
 
 The door was hardly shut upon Noel when Charlotte 
 was installed on the divan near her mistress. Had the 
 barrister been listening at the door, he might have heard 
 Madame Juliette saying, " No, really, I can no longer 
 endure him. What a bore he is, my girl. Ah ! if I was 
 not so afraid of him, wouldn't I leave him at once ? But 
 he is capable of killing me ! " 
 
 The girl vainly tried to defend Noel ; but her mistress 
 did not listen. She murmured, " Why does he absent 
 himself, and what is he plotting ? An absence of eight 
 days is suspicious. Can he by any chance intend to be 
 married ? Ah ! if I only knew. You weary me to death, 
 my good Noel, and I am determined to leave you to your- 
 self one of these fine mornings ; but I cannot permit you 
 to. quit me first. Supposing he is going to get married? 
 But I will not allow it. I must make inquiries." 
 
 Noel, however, was not listening at the door. He went 
 along the Rue de Provence as quickly as possible, gained 
 the Rue St. Lazare, and entered the house as he had de- 
 parted, by the stable door. He had but just sat down in 
 his study, when the servant knocked. " Sir," cried she, 
 " in heaven's name answer me ! " 
 
 He opened the door and said impatiently, " What is it 
 now ? " 
 
 " Sir," stammered the girl in tears, " this is the third 
 time I have knocked, and you have not answered. Come, 
 I implore you. I am afraid madame is dying ! " 
 
 He followed her to Madame Gerdy's room. He must 
 have found the poor woman terribly changed, for he could 
 not restrain a movement of terror. The invalid struggled 
 painfully beneath her coverings. Her face was of a livid 
 paleness, as though there was not a drop of blood left in 
 her veins ; and her eyes, which glittered' with a sombre 
 light, seemed filled with a fine dust. Her hair, loose and 
 disordered, falling over her cheeks and upon her shoulders, 
 contributed to her wild appearance. She uttered from 
 
THE LEKOUGK CASE. 79 
 
 time to time a groan hardly audible, or murmured unin- 
 telligible words. At times, a fiercer pang than the former 
 ones forced a cry of anguish from her. She did not rec- 
 ognise Noel. 
 
 " You see, sir," said the servant. 
 
 " Yes. Who would have supposed her malady could 
 advance so rapidly ? . Quick, run to Dr. Herve's, tell him 
 to get up, and to come at once, tell him it is for me." 
 And he seated himself in an arm-chair, facing the suffering 
 woman. 
 
 Dr. Herve was one of Noel's friends, an old school-fel- 
 low, and the companion of his student days. The doctor's 
 history differed in nothing from that of most young men, 
 who, without fortune, friends, or influence, enter upon the 
 practice of the most difficult, the most hazardous of pro- 
 fessions that exist in Paris, where one sees so many tal- 
 ented young doctors forced, to earn the bread, to place 
 themselves at the disposition of infamous drug vendors. 
 A man of remarkable courage and self-reliance, Herve, his 
 studies over, said to himself, " No, I will not go and bury 
 myself in the country, I will remain in Paris, I will there 
 become celebrated. I shall be surgeon-in-chief of an 
 hospital, and a knight of the Legion of Honour." To en- 
 ter upon this path of thorns, leading to a magnificent tri- 
 umphal arch, the future academician ran himself twenty 
 thousand francs in debt to furnish a small apartment. 
 Here, armed with a patience which nothing could fatigue, 
 an iron resolution that nothing could subdue, he struggled 
 and waited. Only those who have experienced it can un 
 derstand what sufferings are endured by the poor, proud 
 man, who waits in a black coat, freshly shaven, with smil- 
 ing lips, while he is starving -of hunger! The refinements 
 of civilization have inaugurated punishments which- put in 
 the shade the cruelties of the savage. The unknown 
 physician must begin by attending the poor who cannot 
 pay him. Sometimes too the patient is ungrateful. He is 
 profuse in promises whilst in danger ; but, when -cured, he 
 scorns the doctor, and forgets to pay him his fee. 
 
 After seven years of heroic perseverance, Herve has 
 secured at last a circle of patients who pay him. During 
 this he lived and paid the exorbitant interest of his debt, 
 but he is getting on. Three or four pamphlets, and a prize 
 won without much intrigue, have attracted public attention 
 
So THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 to him. But he is no longer the brave young enthusiast, 
 full of the faith and hope that attended him on his first 
 visits. He still wishes, and more than ever, to acquire 
 distinction, but he no longer expects any pleasure from his 
 success. He used up that feeling in the days when he 
 had not wherewith to pay for his dinner. No matter how 
 great his fortune may be in the clays to come, he has al- 
 ready paid too- dearly for it. For him future success is 
 only a kind of revenge. Less than thirty-five years old, 
 he is already sick of the world, and believes in nothing. 
 Under the appearance of universal benevolence he con- 
 ceals universal scorn. His finesse, sharpened by the grind' 
 stone of adversity, has become mischievous. And, while 
 he sees through all disguises worn by others, he hides his 
 penetration carefully under a mask of cheerful good nature 
 and jovialness. But he is kind, he loves his friends, and is 
 devoted to them. 
 
 He arrived, hardly dressed, so great had been his haste. 
 His first words on entering were, " What is the matter ? '' 
 
 Noel pressed his hand in silence, and by way of answer, 
 pointed to the bed. In less than a minute, the doctor 
 seized the lamp, examined the sick woman, and returned 
 to his friend. " What has happened ? " he asked sharply. 
 " It is necessary I should know ? " 
 
 The barrister started at the question. " Know what ? " 
 stammered he. 
 
 " Everything ! " answered Herve. " She is suffering from 
 inflammation of the brain. There is no mistaking that. 
 It is by no means a common complaint, in spite of the 
 constant working of that organ. What can have caused it ? 
 There appears to be no injury to the brain or its bony 
 covering, the mischief, then, must have been caused by 
 some violent emotion, a great grief, some unexpected 
 catastrophe . . . ." 
 
 Noel interrupted his friend by a gesture, and drew him 
 into the embrasure of the window. " Yes, my friend," 
 said he in a low tone, " Madame Gerdy has experienced 
 great mental suffering, she has been frightfully tortured by 
 remorse. Listen, Herve. I will confide our secret to 
 your honor and your friendship. Madame Gerdy is not my 
 mother ; she despoiled me, to enrich her son with my for- 
 tune and my name. Three weeks ago I discovered this 
 unworthy fraud ; she knows it, and the consequences ter 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 81 
 
 rify her. Ever since, she has been dying minute by min- 
 ute." 
 
 The barrister expected some exclamations of astonish' 
 ment, and a host of questions from his friend ; but the 
 doctor received the explanation without remark, as a 
 simple statement, indispensable to his understanding the 
 case. " Three weeks," he murmured ; " then, that explains 
 everything. Has she appeared to suffer much during the 
 time'?"' 
 
 " She complained of violent headaches, dimness of 
 sight, and intolerable pains in her ears, she attributed all 
 that though to megrims. Do not, however, conceal any- 
 thing from me, Herve ; is her complaint very serious ? " 
 
 "So serious, my friend, so invariably fatal, that I am 
 almost undertaking a hopeless task in attempting a cure." 
 
 " Ah ! good heaven ! " 
 
 " You asked for the truth, and I have told it you. If I 
 had that courage, it was because you told me this poor 
 woman is not your mother. Nothing short of a miracle 
 can save her; but this miracle we may hope and prepare 
 for. And now to work 1 " 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE clock of the St. Lazare terminus was striking eleven 
 as old Tabaret, after shaking hands with Noel, left his 
 house, still bewildered by what he had just heard. Obliged 
 to restrain himself at the time, he now fully appreciated his 
 liberty of action. It was with an unsteady gait that he 
 took his first steps in the street, like the toper, who, after 
 being shut up in a warm room, suddenly goes out into the 
 open air. He was beaming with pleasure, but at the same 
 time felt rather giddy, from that rapid succession of unex- 
 pected revelations, which, so he thought, had suddenly 
 placed him in possession of the truth. Notwithstanding his 
 haste to arrive at M. Daburon's he did not take a cab. He 
 felt the necessity of walking. He was one of those who 
 require exercise to see things clearly. When he moved 
 about his ideas fitted and classified themselves in his 
 brain, like grains of wheat when shaken in a bushel. 
 Without hastening his pace, he reached the Rue de la 
 Chaussee d'Antin, crossed the Boulevard with its resplen- 
 dent cafes, and turned to the Rue Richelieu. He 
 
82 THE I.EROL'GE CASE. 
 
 walked along, unconscious of external objects, tripping 
 and stumbling over the inequalities of the sidewalk, or 
 slipping on the greasy pavement. If he followed the 
 proper road, it was a purely mechanical impulse that 
 guided him. His mind was wandering at random through 
 the field of probabilities, and following in the darkness 
 the mysterious thread, the almost imperceptible end of 
 which he had seized at La Jonchere. - Like all persons 
 labouring under strong emotion without knowing it, he 
 talked aloud, little thinking into what indiscreet ears 
 his exclamations and disjointed phrases might fall. At 
 every step, we meet in Paris people babbling to themselves, 
 and unconsciously confiding to the four winds of heaven 
 their dearest secrets, like cracked vases that allow their 
 contents to steal away. Often the passers-by mistake 
 these eccentric monologuists for lunatics. Sometimes the 
 curious follow them, and amuse themselves by receiving 
 these strange confidences. It was an indiscretion of this 
 kind which told the ruin of Riscara the rich banker. 
 Lambreth, the assassin of the Rue de Venise, betrayed 
 himself in a similar manner. 
 
 " What luck ! " exclamed old Tabaret. " What an in- 
 credible piece of good fortune ! Gevrol may dispute it if 
 he likes, but after all, chance is the cleverest agent of the 
 police. Who would have imagined such a history? I 
 was not, however, very far from the reality. I guessed 
 there was a child in the case. But who would have 
 dreamed of a substitution ? an old sensational effect, 
 that playwrights no longer dare make use of. This is a 
 striking example of the danger of following preconceived 
 ideas in police investigation. We are affrighted at unlike- 
 lihood ; and, as in this case, the greatest unlikelihood often 
 proves to be the truth. We retire before the absurd, and 
 it is the absurd' that we should examine. Everything is 
 possible. I would not take a thousand crowns for what I 
 have learnt this evening.- I shall kill two birds with one 
 stone. I deliver up the criminal ; and I give Noel a hearty 
 lift up to recover his title and his fortune. There, at least, 
 is one who deserves what he will get. For once I shall not 
 be sorry to see a lad get on, who has been brought up in the 
 school of adversity. But, pshaw ! he will be like all the 
 rest. Prosperity will turn his brain. Already he begins 
 to prate of his ancestors. . . . Poor humanity ! he almost 
 
'HIE L&ROUGE CASE. 83 
 
 made me laugh. . . . But it is mother Gercly who sur- 
 prises me most. A woman to whom I would have given 
 absolution without waiting to hear her confess. When I 
 think that I was on the point of proposing to her, ready to 
 marry her ! B-r-r-r ! " At this thought, the old fellow 
 shivered. He saw himself married, and all on a sudden, 
 discovering the antecedents of Madame Tabaret, becoming 
 mixed up with a scandalous prosecution, compromised, 
 and rendered ridiculous. " When I think," he continued, 
 " that my worthy Gevrol is running after the man with the 
 earrings ! Run, my boy, run ! Travel is a good thing for 
 youth. Won't he be vexed ? He will wish me dead. But 
 I don't care. If any one wishes to do me an injury, M. 
 Daburon will protect me. Ah ! there is one to whom I 
 am going to do a good turn. I can see him now, opening 
 his eyes like saucers, when I say to him, ' I have the ras- 
 cal ! ' He can boast of owing me something. This in- 
 vestigation will bring him honour, or justice is not justice. 
 He will, at least, be made an officer of the Legion of 
 Honour. So much the better ! I like him. If he is asleep, 
 I am going to give him an agreeable awaking. Won't lie 
 just overpower me with questions ! He will want to know 
 everything at once." Old Tabaret, who was now crossing 
 the Pont des Saints-Peres, stopped suddenly. " But the de- 
 tails ! " said he. " By Jove ! I have none. I only know the 
 bare facts." He resumed his walk, and continued, " They 
 are right at the office, I am too enthusiastic ; I jump at 
 conclusions, as Gevrol says. When I was with Noel, I 
 should have cross-examined him, got hold of a quantity of 
 useful details ; .but I did not even think of doing so. I 
 drank in his words. I would have had him tell the story 
 in a sentence. All the same, it is but natural ; when one 
 is pursuing a stag, one does not stop to shoot a blackbird. 
 But I see very well now, I did not draw him out enough. 
 On the other hand, by questioning him more, I might have- 
 awakened suspicions in Noel's mind, and led him to dis 
 cover that I am working for the Rue de Jerusalem. To 
 be sure, I do not blush for my connection with the police. 
 I am even vain of it ; but at the same time, I prefer thai 
 no one should know of it. People are so stupid, that the\ 
 detest the police, who protect them. I must be calm and 
 on my best behaviour, for here I am at the end of my 
 journey." 
 
S.| THE I.EKUl'^J: CASE. 
 
 M. Daburon had just gone to bed, but had given orders 
 to his servant ; so that M. Tabaret had but to give his 
 name, to be at once conducted to the magistrate's sleeping 
 apartment. At sight of his amateur detective, M. Daburon 
 raised himself in his bed, saying, " There is something ex 
 traordinary ! What have you discovered ? have you got a 
 clue?" 
 
 " Better than that," answered the old fellow, smiling 
 with pleasure. 
 
 " Speak quickly ! " 
 
 " I know the culprit ! " 
 
 Old Tabaret ought to have been satisfied ; he certainly 
 produced an effect. The magistrate bounded in his bed. 
 " Already ! " said he. " Is it possible ? " 
 
 " I have the honour to repeat to you, sir," resumed the 
 old fellow, " that I know the author of the crime of La 
 Jonchere." 
 
 " And I, " said M. Daburon, " I proclaim you the great 
 est of all detectives, past or future. I shall certainly 
 never hereafter undertake an investigation without your 
 assistance." 
 
 " You are too kind, sir. I have had little or nothing 
 to do in the matter. The discovery is due to chance 
 alone." 
 
 " You are modest, M. Tabaret. Chance assists only 
 the clever, and it is that which annoys the stupid. But I 
 beg you will be seated and proceed." 
 
 Then with the lucidness and precision of which few 
 would have believed him capable, the old fellow repeated 
 to the magistrate all that he had learned from Noel. He 
 quoted from memory the extracts from the letters, almost 
 without changing -a word. "These letters," added he, " I 
 have seen ; and I have even taken one, in order to verify 
 the writing. Here it is." 
 
 " Yes," murmured the magistrate " Yes, M. Tabaret, 
 you have discovered the criminal. The evidence is palpa- 
 ble, even to the blind. Heaven has willed this. Crime 
 engenders crime. The great sin of the father has made 
 the son an assassin." 
 
 " I have not given you the names, sir," resumed old 
 Tabaret. "I wished first to hear your opinion." 
 
 " Oh ! you can name them," interrupted M. Daburon 
 with a certain degree of animation, " no matter how high 
 
TJJE LEKOUGE CASE. 85 
 
 he may have to strike, a French magistrate has never hesi- 
 tated." 
 
 "I know it, sir, but we are going very high this time, 
 the father who has sacrificed his legitimate son for the sake 
 of his bastard is Count Rheteau de Commarin, and the 
 assassin of Wildow Lerouge is the bastard, Viscount Albert 
 de Commarin ! " 
 
 M. Tabaret, like an accomplished artist, had uttered 
 these words slowly, and with a deliberate emphasis, confi- 
 dently expecting to produce a great impression. His 
 expectation was more than realized. M. Daburon was 
 struck with stupor. He remained motionless, his eyes 
 dilated with astonishment. Mechanically he repeated like 
 a word without meaning which he was trying to impress 
 upon his memory : " Albert de Commarin ! Albejt de 
 Commarin ! " 
 
 " Yes," insisted old Tabaret, " the noble viscount. It 
 is incredible, I know." But he perceived the alteration 
 in the magistrate's face, and a little frightened, he ap- 
 proached the bed. " Are you unwell, sir ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," answered M. Daburon, without exactly knowing 
 what he said. " I am very well ; but the surprise, the 
 emotion, " 
 
 " I understand that," said the old fellow. 
 
 " Yes, it is not surprising, is it ? I should like to be 
 alone a few minutes. Do not leave the house though ; we 
 must converse at some length on this business. Kindly 
 pass into my study, there ought still to be a fire burning 
 there. I will join you directly." 
 
 Then M. Daburon slowly got out of bed, put on a dress- 
 ing gown, and seated himself, or rather fell, into an arm- 
 chair. His face, to which in the exercise of his austere 
 functions he had managed to give the immobility of 
 marble, reflected the most cruel agitation ; while his eyes 
 betrayed the inward agony of his soul. The name of 
 Commarin, so unexpectedly pronounced, awakened in him 
 the most sorrowful recollections, and tore open a wound 
 but badly healed. This name recalled to him an event 
 which had rudely extinguished his youth and spoilt his life. 
 Involuntarily, he carried his thoughts back to his epoch, so 
 as to taste again all its bitterness. An hour ago, it had 
 srcmed to him far removed, and already hidden in the 
 mists of the past ; one word had sufficed to recall it, clear 
 
86 y//A LLROi\,E T./.VA. 
 
 and distinct. It seemed to him now that this event, in 
 which the name of Albert de Commarin was mixed up, 
 dated from yesterday. In reality nearly two years elapsed 
 since. 
 
 Pierre-Marie Daburon belonged to one of the oldest 
 families of Foitou. Three or four of his ancestors had 
 filled successively the most important positions in the prov- 
 ince. Why, then, had they not bequeathed a title and a 
 coat of arms to their descendants ? The magistrate's father 
 possesses, round about the ugly modern chateau which 
 he inhabits, more than eight hundred thousand francs' 
 worth of the most -valuable land. By his mother, a Cotte 
 vise-Luxe, he is related to the highest nobility of Poitou, 
 one of the most exclusive that exists in France, as every 
 one knows. When he received his nomination in Paris, 
 his relationship caused him to be received at once by five 
 or six aristocratic families, and it was not long before he 
 extended his circle of acquaintance. He possessed, how- 
 ever, none of the qualifications which ensure social 
 success. He was cold and grave even to sadness, reserved 
 and timid even to excess. His mind wanted brilliancy 
 and lightness ; Jie lacked the facility of repartee, and the 
 amiable art of conversing without a subject ; he could 
 neither tell a lie, nor pay an insipid compliment. Like 
 most men who feel deeply, he was unable to interpret his 
 impressions immediately. He required to reflect and con- 
 sider within himself. However, he was sought after for more 
 solid qualities than these : for the nobleness of his senti- 
 ments, his pleasant disposition, and the certainty of his 
 connections. Those who knew him intimately quickly 
 learned to esteem his sound judgment, his keen sense of 
 honour, and to discover under his cold exterior a warm 
 heart, an excessive sensibility, and a delicacy almost fem- 
 inine. In a word, although he might be eclipsed in a 
 room full of strangers or simpletons, he charmed all hearts 
 in a smaller circle, where he felt warmed by an atmosphere 
 of sympathy. He accustomed himself to go about a 
 great deal. He reasoned, wisely perhaps, that a magis- 
 trate can make better use of his time than by' remaining 
 shut up in his study, in company with books of law. He 
 thought that a man called upon to judge others, ought to 
 know them, and for that purpose study them. An atten- 
 tive and discreet observer, he examined the play of human 
 
THE I.EKOUGE CASE. 87 
 
 interests and passions, exercised himself in disentangling 
 and manoeuvring at need the strings of the puppets he 
 saw moving around him. Piece by piece, so to say, he 
 laboured to comprehend the working of the complicated 
 machine called society, of which he was charged to over- 
 look the movements, regulate the springs, and keep the 
 wheels in order. 
 
 And on a sudden, in the early part of the winter of 1860 
 and 1861, M. Daburon disappeared. His friends sought 
 for him, but he was nowhere to be met with. What could 
 he be doing ? Inquiry resulted in the discovery that he 
 passed nearly all his evenings at the house of the Mar- 
 chioness d'Arlange. The surprise was as great as it was 
 natural. This clear marchioness was, or rather is, for 
 she is still in the land of the living, a personage whom 
 one would consider rather out of date. She is surely the 
 most singular legacy bequeathed us by the eighteenth cen- 
 tury. How, and by what marvellous process she had 
 been preserved such as we see her, it is impossible to say. 
 Listening to her, you would swear that she was yesterday 
 at one of those parties given by the queen where cards 
 and high stakes were the rule, much of the annoyance of 
 Louis XVI., and where the great ladies cheated openly in 
 emulation of each other. Manners, language, habits, al- 
 most costume, she has preserved everything belonging to 
 that period about which authors have written only to dis- 
 play the defects. Her appearance alone will tell more 
 than an exhaustive article, and an hour's conversation 
 with her, more than a volume. She was born in a little 
 principality, where her parents had taken refuge whilst 
 awaiting the chastisements and repentance of an erring 
 and rebellious people. She had been brought up amongst 
 the old nobles of the emigration, in some very ancknt and 
 very gilded apartment, just as though she had been in a 
 cabinet of curiosities. Her mind had awakened amid the 
 hum of antediluvian conversations, her imagination had 
 first been aroused by arguments a little less profitable 
 than those of an assembly of deaf persons convoked to 
 decide upon the merits of the work of some distinguished 
 musician. Here she imbibed a fund of ideas, which, ap- 
 plied to the forms of society of to-day, are as grotesque as 
 would be those of a child shut up until twenty years of ag& 
 in an Assyrian museum. The first empire, the vestora: 
 
S3 y y/A LEKQUGE CASE. 
 
 the monarchy of July, the second republic, the second um- 
 pire, have passed beneath her windows, but she has not 
 taken the trouble to open them. All that has happened 
 since '89 she considers as never having been. For her it 
 is a nightmare from which she is still awaiting a release. 
 She has looked at everything, but then she looks through 
 her own pretty glasses which show her everything as she 
 would wish it, and which are to be obtained of dealers in 
 illusions. 
 
 Though over sixty-eight years old she is as straight as 
 a poplar, and has never been ill. She is vivacious, and 
 active to excess, and can only keep still when asleep, or 
 when playing her favorite game of piquet. She has her 
 four meals a day, eats like a vintager, and takes her wine 
 neat. She professes an undisguised contempt for the 
 silly women of our century who live for a week on a 
 partridge, and inundate with water grand sentiments 
 which they entangle in long phrases. She has always 
 been, and still is, very positive, and her w r ord is prompt 
 and easily understood. She never shrinks from using the 
 most appropriate word to express her meaning. So much 
 the worse, if some delicate ears object ! She heartily 
 detests hypocrisy. She believes in God, but she believes 
 also in M. de Voltaire, so that her devotion is, to say the 
 least, problematical. However, she is on good terms \\iih 
 the curate of her parish, and is very particular about the 
 arrangement of her dinner on the days she honours him 
 with an invitation to her table. She seems to consider 
 him a subaltern, very useful to her salvation, and capable 
 of opening the gate of paradise for her. Such as she is, 
 she is shunned like the plague. Everybody dreads her 
 loud voice, her. terrible indiscretion, and the frankness of 
 speech which she affects, in order to have the right of 
 saying the most unpleasant things which pass through her 
 head. Of all her family, there osly remains her grand- 
 daughter, whose father died very young. Of a fortune 
 originally large, and partly restored by the indemnity 
 allowed by the government, but since administered in the 
 most careless manner, she has only been able to preserve 
 an income of twenty thousand francs, which diminishes 
 day by day. She is also, proprietor of the pretty little 
 house which she inhabits, situated near the Invalides, 
 between a rather narrow court-yard, and a very extensive 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 89 
 
 garden. So circumstanced, she considers herself the 
 most unfortunate of God's creatures, and passes the greater 
 part of her life complaining of her poverty. From time to 
 time, especially after some exceptionally bad speculation, 
 she confesses that what she fears most is to die in a 
 pauper's bed. 
 
 A friend of M. Daburon's presented him one evening 
 to the Marchioness d'Arlange, having dragged him to her 
 house in a mirthful mood, saying, " Come with me, and I 
 will show you a phenomenon, a ghost of the past in flesh 
 and bone." The marchioness rather puzzled the magis- 
 trate the first time he was admitted to her presence. On 
 his second visit, she amused him very much ; for which 
 reason, he came again. But after a while she no longer 
 amused him, though he still continued a faithful and con- 
 stant visitor to the rose-coloured boudoir wherein she 
 passed the greater part of her life. Madame d'Arlange 
 conceived a violent friendship for him, and became 
 eloquent in his praises. "A most charming young man," 
 she declared, " delicate and sensible ! What a pity he is 
 not born!" One can receive him though, all the same ; 
 his forefathers were very decent people, and his mother 
 was a Cottevise who, however, went wrong. I wish him 
 well, and will do all I can to push him forward." The 
 strongest proof of friendship he received from her was, 
 that she condescended to pronounce his name like the 
 rest of the world. She had preserved that ridiculous 
 affectation of forgetful ness of the names of people who 
 were not of noble birth, and who in her opinion had no 
 right to names. She was so confirmed in this habit, that, 
 if by accident she pronounced such a name correctly, she 
 immediately repeated it with some ludicrous alteration. 
 During his first visit, M. Daburon was extremely amused 
 at hearing his name altered every time she addressed him. 
 Successively she made it Taburon, Dabiron, Maliron, 
 Laliron, Laridon ; but, in three months time, she called 
 him Daburon as distinctly as if he had been a duke of 
 something, and a lord of somewhere. 
 
 Occasionally she exerted herself to prove to the worthy- 
 magistrate that he was a nobleman, or at least ought to 
 be. She would have been happy, if she could have per- 
 suaded him to adopt some title, and have a helmet 
 engraved upon his visiting cards. " How is it possible," 
 
po 77/A I.EK 
 
 said she, "that your ancestors, eminent, wealthy, and 
 influential, never thought of being raised from the com- 
 mon herd and securing a title for their descendants ? To- 
 day you would possess a presentable pedigree." "My 
 ancestors were wise," responded M. Daburon. " They 
 preferred being foremost among their fellow-citizens to 
 becoming last among the nobles." Upon which the mar- 
 chioness explained, and proved to demonstration, that 
 between the most influential and wealthy citizen and the 
 smallest scion of nobility, there was an abyss that all the 
 money in the world could not fill* up. 
 
 They who were so surprised at the frequency of the 
 magistrate's visits to this celebrated " relic of the past " 
 did not know that lady's grand-daughter, or, at least, did 
 not recollect her ; she went out so seldom ! The old 
 marchioness did not care, so she said, to be bothered with 
 a young spy who would be in her way when she related 
 some of her choice anecdotes. Claire d'Arlange was just 
 seventeen years old. She was extremely graceful and 
 gentle in manner, and lovely, in her natural innocence. 
 She had a profusion of fine light brown hair, which fell in 
 ringlets over her well-shaped neck and shoulders. Her 
 figure was still rather slender ; but her features recalled 
 Guide's most celestial faces. Her blue eyes, shaded by 
 long lashes of a hue darker than her hair, had above all an 
 adorable expression. A certain air of antiquity, the result 
 of her association with her grandmother, added yet another 
 charm to the young girl's manner. She had more sense, 
 however, than her relative ; and, as her education had not 
 been neglected, she had imbibed pretty correct ideas of the 
 world in which she lived. This education, these practical 
 ideas, Claire owed to her governess, upon whose shouldeis 
 the marchioness had thrown the entire responsibility 
 of cultivating her mind. This governess, Mademoiselle 
 Schmidt, chosen at hazard, happened by the most fortunate 
 chance to be both well informed and "possessed of principle. 
 She was, what is often met with on the other side of the 
 Rhine, a woman at once romantic and practical, of the 
 tenderest sensibility and the severest virtue. This good 
 woman, while she carried her pupil into the land of senti- 
 mental phantasy and poetical imaginings, gave her at the 
 same time the most practical instruction in matters relating 
 to actual life. She revealed to Claire all the peculiarities 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 91 
 
 of thought antl manner that rendered her grandmother so 
 ridiculous, and taught her to avoid them, but without 
 ceasing to respect them. 
 
 Every evening, on arriving at Madame d'Arlange's, M. 
 Daburon was sure to find Claire seated beside her grand- 
 mother, and it was for that that he called. Whilst listening 
 with an inattentive ear to the old lady's rigmaroles and her 
 interminable anecdotes of the emigration, he gazed upon 
 Claire, as a fanatic upon his idol. Often in his ecstasy 
 he forgot where he was for the moment and became abso- 
 lutely oblivious of the old lady's presence, although her 
 shrill voice was piercing the tympanum of his ear like a 
 needle. Then he would answer her at cross-purposes, 
 committing the most singular blunders, which he labored 
 afterwards to explajn. But he need not have taken the 
 trouble. Madame d'Arlange did not perceive her courtier's 
 absence of mind ; her questions were of such a length, that 
 she did not care about the answers. Having a listener, 
 she was satisfied, provided that from time to time he gave 
 signs of life. When obliged to sit down to play piquet, he 
 cursed below his breath the game and its detestable inventor. 
 He paid no attention to his cards. He made mistakes 
 every moment, discarding what he should keep in and 
 forgetting to cut. The old lady was annoyed by these con- 
 tinual distractions, but she did scruple to profit by them. 
 She looked at the discard, changed the cards which did not 
 suit her, while she audaciously scored points she never 
 made, and pocketed the money thus won without shame or 
 remorse. M. Daburon's timidity was extreme, and Claire 
 was unsociable to excess, they therefore seldom spoke to 
 each other. During the entire winter, the magistrate did 
 not directly address the young girl ten times ; and, on these 
 rare occasions, he had learned mechanically by heart the 
 phrase he proposed to repeat to her, well knowing that, 
 without this precaution, he would most likely be unable to 
 finish what he had to say. But at least he saw her, he 
 breathed the same air with her, he heard her voice, whose 
 pure and harmonious vibrations thrilled his very soul. By 
 constantly watching her eyes, he learned to understand all 
 their expressions. He believed he could read in them all 
 her thoughts, and through them look into her soul like 
 through an open window. " She is pleased to-day," he 
 would say to himself ; and then he would be happy. At 
 
f)2 THE LEKOi'GE CASE. 
 
 other times, he thought, " She has met with some annoyance 
 to-day ;" and immediately lie became sad. The idea of ask- 
 ing for her hand many times presented itself to his imagin- 
 ation ; but he never dared to entertain it. Knowing, as 
 he did, the marchioness's prejudices, her devotion to titles, 
 her dread of any approach to a misalliance, he was con- 
 vinced she would shut his mouth at the first word by a very 
 decided " no," which she would maintain. To attempt the 
 thing would be to risk, without a chance of success, his 
 present happiness which he thought immense, for love lives 
 upon its own misery. " Once repulsed," thought he, " the 
 house is shut against me ; and then farewell to happiness, 
 for life will end for me." Upon the other hand, the very- 
 rational thought occurred to him that another might see 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange, love her, and, in consequence, 
 ask for and obtain her. In either case, hazarding a pro- 
 posal, or hesitating still, he must certainly lose her in the 
 end. By the commencement of spring, his mind was made 
 up. 
 
 One fine afternoon, in the month of April, he bent his 
 steps towards the residence of Madame d'Arlange, having 
 truly need of more bravery than a soldier about to face a 
 battery. He, like the soldier, whispered to himself, " Victory 
 or death ! " The marchioness who had gone out shortly 
 after breakfast had just returned in a terrible rage, and was 
 uttering screams like an eagle. This was what had taken 
 place. She had some work done by a neighboring painter 
 some eight or ten months before ; and the workman had 
 presented himself a hundred times to receive payment, 
 without avail. Tired of this proceeding, he had summoned 
 the high and mighty Marchioness d'Arlange before the 
 Justice of the Peace. This summons had exasperated the 
 marchioness ; but she kept the matter to herself, having 
 decided, in her wisdom, to call upon the judge and request 
 him to reprimand the insolent painter who had dared to 
 plague her for a paltry sum of money. The result of this 
 fine project may be guessed. The judge had been com- 
 pelled to eject her forcibly from his office ; hence her fury. 
 
 M. Daburon found her in the rose-colored boudoir half 
 undressed, her hair in disorder, red as a peony, and sur- 
 rounded by the debris of the glass and chma which had 
 fallen under her hands in the first moments of her passion. 
 Unfortunately, too, Claire and her governess were gone out. 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 93 
 
 A maid was occupied in inundating the old lady with all 
 sorts of waters, in the hope of calming her nerves. She 
 received Daburon as a messenger direct from Providence. 
 In a little more than half an hour, she told her story, 
 interlarded with numerous interjections and imprecations. 
 ." Do you comprehend this judge ? " cried she. " He must 
 be some frantic Jacobin, some son of the furies, who 
 washed their hands in the blood of their king. Ah ! my 
 friend, I read stupor and indignation in your glance. He 
 listened to the complaint of that impudent scoundrel whom 
 I enabled to live by employing him ! And when I addressed 
 some severe remonstrances to this judge, as it was my duty 
 to do, he had me turned out ! Do you hear ? turned out ! " 
 At this painful recollection, she made a menacing gesture 
 with her arm. In her sudden movement, she struck a 
 handsome scent bottle that her maid held in her hand. 
 The force of the blow sent it to the other end of the room, 
 where it broke into pieces. " Stupid, awkward fool ! " cried 
 the marchioness, venting her anger upon the frightened 
 girl. M. Daburon, bewildered at first, now endeavored to 
 calm her exasperation. She did not allow him to pronounce 
 three words. " Happily you are here," she continued ; 
 " you are always willing to serve me, I know. I count upon 
 you ! you will exercise your influence, your powerful friends, 
 your credit, to have this pitiful painter and this miscreant 
 of a judge flung into some deep ditch, to teach them the 
 respect due to a woman of my rank." 
 
 The magistrate did not permit himself even to smile at 
 this imperative demand. He had heard many speeches as 
 absurd issue from her lips without ever making fun of 
 them. Was she not Claire's grandmother ? for that alone 
 he loved and venerated her. He blessed her for her grand- 
 daughter, as an admirer of nature blesses heaven for the 
 wild flower that delights him with its perfume. The fury 
 of the old lady was terrible , nor was it of short duration. 
 At the end of an hour, however, she was, or appeared to 
 be, pacified. They replaced her head-dress, repaired the 
 disorder of her toilette, and picked up the fragments of 
 broken glass and china. Vanquished by her own violence, 
 the reaction was immediate and complete. She fell back 
 helpless and exhausted into an arm-chair. This magnifi- 
 cent result was due to the magistrate. To accomplish it, 
 he had had to use all his ability, to exercise the most an- 
 
94 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 gelic patience, the greatest tact. His triumph was the 
 more meritorious, because he came completely unprepared 
 for this adventure, which interfered with his intended pro- 
 posal. The first time that he had felt sufficient courage to 
 speak, fortune seemed to declare against him, for this un- 
 toward event had quite upset his plans. Arming himself, 
 however, with his professional eloquence, he talked the old 
 lady into calmness. He was not so foolish as to contra- 
 dict her. On the contrary, he caressed her hobby. He 
 was humorous and pathetic by turns. He attacked the au- 
 thors of the revolution, cursed its errors, deplored its crimes, 
 and almost wept over its disastrous results. Commencing 
 with the infamous Marat he eventually reached the rascal 
 of a judge who had offended her. He abused his scanda- 
 lous conduct in good set terms, and was exceedingly severe 
 upon, the dishonest scamp of a painter. However, he 
 thought it best to let them off the punishment they so 
 richly deserved ; and ended by suggesting that it would 
 perhaps be prudent, wise, noble even to pay. 
 
 The unfortunate word "pay " brought Madame d'Ar- 
 lange to her feet in the fiercest attitude. " Pay ! " she 
 screamed. " In order that these scoundrels may persist 
 in their obduracy ! Encourage them by a culpable weak- 
 ness ! Never ! Besides to pay one must have money ! 
 and I have none ! " 
 
 "Why ! " said M. Daburon, "it amounts to but eighty- 
 seven francs ! " 
 
 " And is that nothing ? " asked the marchioness ; " you 
 talk very foolishly, my dear sir. It is easy to see that you 
 have money ; your ancestors were people of no rank ; and 
 the revolution passed a hundred feet above their heads. 
 Who can tell whether they may not have been the gainers 
 by it ? It took all from the d'Arlanges. What will they 
 do to me, if I do not pay ? " 
 
 " Well, madame, they can do many things ; almost ruin 
 you, in costs. They may seize your furniture." 
 
 " Alas ! " cried the old lady, " the revolution is not 
 ended yet. We shall all be swallowed up by it, my poor 
 Daburon ! Ah ! you are happy, you who belong to the 
 people ! I see plainly that I must pay this man without 
 delay, and it is frightfully sad for me, for I have nothing, 
 and am forced to make such sacrifices for the sake of my 
 grandchild ! " 
 
7 'HE LE ROUGE CASE. 95 
 
 This statement surprised the magistrate so strongly that 
 involuntarily he repeated half-aloud, " Sacrifices ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! " resumed Madame d'Arlange. Without 
 her, would I have to live as I am doing, refusing myseli 
 everything to make both ends meet ? Not a bit of it ! I 
 would invest my fortune in a life annuity. But I know, 
 thank heaven, the duties of a mother ; and I economise all 
 I can for my little Claire." This devotion appeared so ad- 
 mirable to M. Daburon, that he could not utter a word. 
 " Ah ! I am terribly anxious about this dear child," con- 
 tinued the marchioness. " I confess M. Daburon, it 
 makes me giddy when I wonder how I am to marry her." 
 
 The magistrate reddened with pleasure. At last his op- 
 portunity had arrived ; he must take advantage of it at 
 once. " It seems to me," stammered he, " that to find 
 Mademoiselle Claire a husband ought not to be difficult." 
 
 " Unfortunately, it is. She is pretty enough, I admit, 
 although rather thin, but, no\v-a-days, beauty goes for 
 nothing. Men are so mercenary they think only of money. 
 I do not know of one who has the manhood to, take a d'Ar- 
 lange with her bright eyes for a dowry." 
 
 " I believe that you exaggerate," remarked M. Daburon, 
 timidly. 
 
 " By no means. Trust to my experience which is far 
 greater than yours. Besides, when I find a son-in-law, he 
 will cause me a thousand troubles. Of this, I am assured 
 by my lawyer. I shall be compelled, it seems, to rende-r 
 an account of Claire's patrimony. As if ever I kept ac- 
 counts ! It is shameful ! Ah ! if Claire had any sense of 
 filial duty, she would quietly take the veil in some convent. 
 I would use every effort to pay the necessary dower ; but 
 she has no affection for me." 
 
 M. Daburon felt that now was the time to speak. He 
 collected his courage, as a good horseman pulls his horse 
 together when going to leap a hedge, and in a voice, which 
 he tried to render firm, he said : " Well ! Madame, I be- 
 lieve I know a party who would suit Mademoiselle Claire, 
 an honest man, who loves her, and who will do every- 
 thing in the world to make her happy," 
 
 " That," said Madame d'Arlange, " is always under- 
 stood." 
 
 " The man of whom I speak," continued the mag- 
 istrate, " is still young, and is rich. He will be onlv too 
 
96 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 happy to receive Mademoiselle Claire without a dowry. 
 Not only will he decline an examination of your accounts 
 of guardianship, but he will beg you to invest your fortune 
 as you think fit." 
 
 " Really ! Daburon, my friend, you are by no means a 
 fool ! " exclaimed the old lady. 
 
 " If you prefer not to invest your fortune in a life-an- 
 nuity, your son-in-law will allow you sufficient to make up 
 what you now find wanting." 
 
 " Ah ! really I am stifling," interrupted the marchioness. 
 " What ! you know such a man, and have never yet men- 
 tioned him to me ! You ought to have introduced him 
 long ago." 
 
 " I did not dare, madame, I was afraid " 
 
 " Quick ! tell me who is this admirable son-in-law, this 
 white black-bird ? where does he nestle ? " 
 
 The magistrate felt a strange fluttering of the heart ; he 
 was going to stake his happiness on a word. At length he 
 stammered, " It is I, madame ! " 
 
 His voice, his look, his gesture were beseeching. He 
 was surprised at his own audacity, frightened at having 
 vanquished his timidity, and was on the point of falling at 
 the old lady's feet. She, however, laughed until the tears 
 came into her eyes, then shrugging her shoulders, she 
 said ; " Really, dear Daburon is too ridiculous, he will 
 make me die of laughing! He is so amusing !" After which 
 she burst out laughing again. But suddenly she stopped, 
 in the very height of her merriment, and assumed her 
 most dignified air. " Are you perfectly serious in all you 
 have told me, M. Daburon ! " she asked. 
 
 " I have stated the truth," murmured the magistrate. 
 
 " You are then very rich ? " 
 
 " I inherited, madame, from my mother, about twenty 
 thousand francs a year. One of my uncles, who died last 
 year, bequeathed me over a hundred thousand crowns. 
 My father is worth about a million. Were I to ask him 
 for the half to-morrow, he would give it to me ; he would 
 give me all his fortune, if it were necessary to my happi- 
 ness, and be but too well contented, should I leave him 
 the administration of it." 
 
 Madame d'Arlange signed to him to be silent ; and, for 
 five good minutes at least, she remained plunged in reflec- 
 ion, her forehead resting in her hands. At length she 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 97 
 
 raised her head. " Listen," said she. " Had you been so 
 bold as to make this proposal to Claire's father, he would 
 have called his servants to show you the door. For the 
 sake of our name I ought to do the same ; but I cannot 
 do so. I am old and desolate ; I am poor ; my grand 
 child's prospects disquiet me ; that is my excuse. I can- 
 not, however, consent to speak to Claire of this horrible 
 misalliance. What I can promise you, and that is too 
 much, is that I will not be against you. Take your own 
 measures ; pay your addresses to Mademoiselle d'Arlange, 
 and try to persuade her. If she says ' yes,' of her own 
 free will, I shall not say ' no.' " 
 
 M. Daburon, transported with happiness, could almost 
 have embraced the old lady. He thought her the best, 
 the most excellent of women, not noticing the facility with 
 which this proud spirit had been brought to yield. He 
 was delirious, almost mad. 
 
 " Wait ! " said the old lady ; " your cause is not yet 
 gained. Your mother, it is true, was a Cottevise, and I 
 must excuse her for marrying so wretchedly ; but your 
 father is simple M. Daburon. This name, my dear friend, 
 is simply ridiculous. Do you think it will be easy to 
 make a Daburon of a young girl who for nearly eighteen 
 years has been called d'Arlange ? " 
 
 This objection did not seem to trouble the magistrate, 
 
 " After all," continued the old lady, " your father 
 gained a Cottevise, so you may win a d'Arlange. On the 
 strength of marrying into noble families, the Daburons 
 may perhaps end by ennobling themselves. One last 
 piece of advice ; you believe Claire to be just as she 
 looks, timid, sweet, obedient. Undeceive yourself, my 
 friend. Despite her innocent air, she is hardy, fierce, and 
 obstinate as the marquis her father, who was worse than 
 an Auvergne mule. Now you are warned. Our condi- 
 tions are agreed to, are they not ? Let us say no more 
 on the subject. I almost wish you to succeed." 
 
 This scene was so present to the magistrate's mind, 
 that as he sat at home in his arm-chair, though many 
 months had passed since these events, he still seemed to 
 hear the old lady's voice, and the word " success " still 
 sounded in his ears. He departed in triumph from the 
 d'Arlange abode, which he had entered with a heart swel- 
 ling with anxiety. He walked with his head erect, his 
 
98 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 chest dilated, and breathing the fresh air with the full 
 strength of his lungs. He was so happy ! The sky ap- 
 peared to him more blue, the sun more brilliant. This 
 grave magistrate felt a mad desire to stop the passers-by, 
 to press them in his arms, to cry to them, " Have you 
 heard? The marchioness consents!" He walked, and 
 the earth seemed to him to give way beneath his foot- 
 steps ; it was either too small to carry so much happiness, 
 or else he had become so light that he was going to fly 
 away towards the stars. What castles in the air he built 
 upon what Madame d'Arlange had said to him ! He 
 would tender his resignation. He would build on the 
 banks of the Loire, not far from Tours, an enchanting 
 little villa. He already saw it, with its facade to the ris- 
 ing sun, nestling in the midst of flowers, and shaded with 
 widespreading trees. He furnished this dwelling in the 
 most luxuriant style. He wished to provide a marvellous 
 casket, worthy the pearl he was about to possess. For he 
 had not a doubt ; not a cloud obscured the horizon made 
 radiant by his hopes, no voice at the bottom of his heart 
 raised itself to cry, " Beware ! " 
 
 From that day, his visits to the marchioness became 
 more frequent. He might almost be said to live at her 
 house. While he preserved his respectful and reserved 
 demeanour towards Claire, he strove assiduously to be 
 something in her life. True love is ingenious. He learnt 
 to overcome his timidity, to speak to the well-beloved of 
 his soul, to encourage her to converse with him, to inter- 
 est her. He went in quest of all the news, to amuse her. 
 He read all the new books, and brought to her all that 
 were fit for her to read. Little by little he succeeded, 
 thanks to the most delicate persistence, in taming this shy 
 young girl. He began to preceive that her fear of him 
 had almost disappeared, that she no longer received him 
 with the cold and haughty air which had previously kept 
 him at a distance. He felt that he was insensibly gaining 
 her confidence. She still blushed when she spoke to him ; 
 but she no longer hesitated to address the first word. She. 
 even ventured at times to ask him a question. If she had 
 heard a play well spoken of and wished to know the sub- 
 ject, M. Daburon would at once go to see it, and commit 
 a complete account of it to writing, which he would send 
 her through the post. At times she intrusted him with 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 99 
 
 trifling commissions, the execution of which he would not 
 have exchanged for the Russian embassy. Once he ven- 
 tured to send her a magnificent bouquet. She accepted it 
 with an air of uneasy surprise, but begged him not to repeat 
 the offering. The tears came to his eyes ; he left her pres- 
 ence broken-hearted, and the unhappiest of men. " She 
 does not love me," thought he, " she will never love me." 
 But, three days after, as he looked very sad, she begged him 
 to procure her certain flowers, then very much in fashion, 
 which she wished to place on her flower-stand. He sent 
 enough to fill the house from the garret to the cellar. 
 " She will love me," he whispered to himself in his joy. 
 These events, so trifling but yet so great, had not inter- 
 rupted the games of piquet ; only the young girl now ap- 
 peared to interest herself in the play, nearly always taking 
 the magistrate's side against the marchioness. She did 
 not understand the game very well ; but, when the old 
 gambler cheated too openly, she would notice it, and say, 
 laughingly, " She is robbing you, M. Daburon, she is 
 robbing you ! " He would willingly have been robbed of 
 his entire fortune, to hear that sweet voice raised on his 
 behalf. 
 
 It was summer time. Often in the evening she accepted 
 his arm, and, while the marchioness remained at the win- 
 dow, seated in her arm-chair, they walked around the lawn, 
 feading lightly upon the paths spread with gravel sifted so 
 fine that the trailing of her light dress effaced the traces of 
 their footsteps. She chatted gaily with him, as with a 
 beloved brother, while he was obliged to do violence to his 
 feelings, to refrain from imprinting a kiss upon the little 
 blonde head, from which the light breeze lifted the curls 
 and scattered them like fleecy clouds. At such moments, 
 he seemed to tread an enchanted path strewn with 
 flowers, at the end of which appeared happiness. When 
 he attempted to speak of his hopes to the marchioness, she 
 would say : You know what we agreed upon. Not a word. 
 Already does the voice of conscience reproach me for lend- 
 ing my countenance to such an abomination. To think 
 that I may be one day have a granddaughter calling her' 
 self Madame Daburon ! You must petition the king, my 
 friend, to change your name." If instead of intoxicating 
 himself with dreams of happiness, this acute observer had 
 studied the character of his idol, the effect might have been 
 
loo THE LEROt'C,}-. CAM-. 
 
 to put him upon his guard. In the meanwhile, he noticed 
 singular alterations "in her humour. On certain clays, she 
 was gay and careless as a child. Then, for a week, she 
 would remain melancholy and dejected. Seeing her in 
 this state the day following a ball, to which her grand- 
 mother had made a point of taking her, he dared to ask 
 her the reason of her sadness. 
 
 " Oh ! that," answered she, heaving a deep sigh, " is my 
 secret, a secret of which even my grandmother knows 
 nothing." 
 
 M. Daburon looked at her. He thought he saw a tear 
 between her long eyelashes. 
 
 " One day," continued she, " I may confide in you : it 
 will perhaps be necessary." 
 
 The magistrate was blind and deaf. " I also," answered 
 he, " have a secret, which I wish to confide to you in 
 return." 
 
 When he retired towards midnight, he said to himself, 
 " To-morrow I will confess everything to her." Then 
 passed a little more than fifty days, during which he kept 
 repeating to himself, " To-morrow ! " 
 
 It happened at last one evening in the month of August ; 
 the heat all day had been overpowering ; towards dusk a 
 a breeze had risen, the leaves rustled ; there were signs of 
 a storm in the atmosphere. They were seated together at 
 the bottom of the garden, under the arbour, adorned with 
 exotic plants, and, through the branches, they perceived 
 the fluttering gown of the marchioness, who was taking a 
 turn after her dinner. They had remained a long time 
 without speaking, enjoying the perfume of the flowers, the 
 calm beauty of the evening. M. Daburon ventured to 
 take the young girl's hand. It was the first time, and the 
 touch of her fine skin thrilled through every fibre of his 
 frame, and drove the blood surging to his brain. " Made- 
 moiselle," stammered he, " Claire " 
 
 She turned towards him her beautiful eyes, filled with 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Forgive me," continued he, "forgive me. I have 
 spoken to your grandmother, before daring to raise my 
 eyes to you. Do you not understand me ? A word from 
 your lips will decide my future happiness or misery. Claire, 
 mademoiselle, do not spurn me : I love you ! " 
 
 While the magistrate was speaking, Mademoiselle d'Ar- 
 
THE LEKOL'GE CASE. 101 
 
 lange looked at him as though doubtful of evidence of her 
 senses ; but at the words, " I love you ! " pronounced with 
 the trembling accents of the most devoted passion, she 
 disengaged her hand sharply, and uttered a stifled cry. 
 " You," murmured she, " is this really you ? " 
 
 M. Daburon, at this the most critical moment of his life 
 was powerless to utter a word. The presentiment of an 
 immense misfortune oppressed his heart. What were then 
 his feelings, when he saw Claire burst into tears. She hid 
 her face in her hands, and kept repeating, " I am very 
 unhappy, very unhappy ! " 
 
 " You unhappy ? " exclaimed the magistrate at length, 
 " and through me. Claire, you are cruel ! In heaven's 
 name, what have I done ? What is the matter? Speak ! 
 Anything rather then this anxiety which is killing me." 
 
 He knelt before her on the gravelled walk, and again 
 made an attempt to take her hand. She repulsed him with 
 an imploring gesture. " Let me weep," said she : " I suf- 
 fer so much, you are going to hate me, I feel it. Who 
 knows ! you will, perhaps, despise me, and yet I swear 
 before heaven that I never expected what you have just said 
 to me, that I had not even a suspicion of it ! " 
 
 M. Daburon remained upon his knees, awaiting his 
 doom. 
 
 "Yes," continued Claire, "you will think you have been 
 the victim of a detestable coquetry. I see it now ! I com- 
 prehend everything ! It is not possible, that, without a pro- 
 found love, a man can be all that you have been to me. 
 Alas ! I was but a child. I gave myself up to the great 
 happiness of having a friend ! Am I not alone in the 
 world, and as if lost in a desert ? Silly and imprudent, I 
 thoughtlessly confided in you, as in the best, the most in- 
 dulgent of fathers." 
 
 These words revealed to the unfortunate magistrate 
 the extent of his error. The same as a heavy hammer, 
 they smashed into a thousand fragments the fragile 
 edifice of his hopes. He raised himself slowly, and, 
 iti a tone of involuntary reproach, he repeated, "Your 
 father ! ' 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange felt how deeply she had wound- 
 ed this man whose intense love she dare not even fathom. 
 " Yes," she resumed, " I love you as a father ! Seeing 
 you, usually so grave and austere, become for me so good, 
 
[02 'J'UI: LEROUGE CASK. 
 
 so indulgent, I thanked heaven for sending me a protectoi 
 to replace those who are dead." 
 
 M. Daburon could not restrain a sob ; his heart was 
 breaking. 
 
 "One word," continued Claire, "one single word, 
 would have enlightened me. Why did you not pronounce 
 it? It was with such happiness that I leant on you as a 
 child on its mother; and with what inward joy I said to 
 myself, ' I am sure of one friend, of one heart into which 
 runs the overflow of mine ! ' Ah ! why was not rny confi- 
 dence greater ? Why did I withhold my secret from you ? 
 I might have avoided this fearful calamity. I ought to 
 have told you long since. I no longer belong to myself 
 freely and with happiness, I have given my life to another." 
 
 To hover in the clouds, and suddenly to fall rudely to 
 the earth, such was M. Daburon's fate ; his sufferings are 
 not to be described. " Far better to have spoken," 
 answered he ; "yet no. I owe to your silence, Claire, six 
 months of delicious illusions, six months of enchanting 
 dreams. This shall be m)' share of life's happiness." 
 
 The last beams of closing day still enabled the 
 magistrate to see Mademoiselle d'Arlange. Her beautiful 
 face had the whiteness and the immobility of marble. 
 Heavy tears rolled silently down her cheeks. It seemed 
 to M. Daburon that he was beholding the frightful spectacle 
 of a weeping statue. " You love another," said he at 
 length, " another ! And your grandmother does not know 
 it. Claire, you can only have chosen a man worthy of your 
 love. How is it the marchioness does not receive him ? " 
 
 " There are certain obstacles," murmured Claire, 
 " obstacles which perhaps we may never be able to remove ; 
 but a girl like me can love but once. She marries him she 
 loves, or she belongs to heaven ! " 
 
 " Certain obstacles ! " said M. Daburon in a hollow 
 voice. " You love a man, he knows it, and he is stopped 
 by obstacles ? " 
 
 " I am poor," answered Mademoiselle d'Arlange, " and 
 his family is immensely rich. His father is cruel, inexora- 
 ble." 
 
 " His father," cried the magistrate, with a bitterness he 
 did not dream of hiding, " his father, his family, and that 
 withholds him ! You are poor, he is rich, and that stops 
 him ! And yet he knows you love him ! Ah ! why am I 
 
THE LEROL'GE CASE. 103 
 
 not in his place? and why have I not the entire universe 
 against me ? What sacrifice can compare with love ? such 
 as I understand it. Nay, would it be a sacrifice ? That 
 which appears most so, is it not really an immense joy ? 
 To suffer, to struggle, to wait, to hope always, to devote 
 oneself entirely to another ; that is my idea of love." 
 
 " It is thus I love," said Claire with simplicity. 
 
 This answer crushed the magistrate. He could under- 
 stand it. He knew that for him there was no hope ; but 
 he felt a terrible enjoyment ii> torturing himself, and prov- 
 ing his misfortune by intense suffering. " But," insisted 
 he, "how have you known him, spoken to him ? Where ? 
 When ? Madame d'Arlange receives no one." 
 
 " I ought now to tell you everything, sir," answered 
 Claire proudly. " I have known him for a long time. It 
 was at the house of one of my grandmother's friends, 
 who is a cousin of his, old Mademoiselle Goello, that I 
 saw him for the first time. There we spoke to each other ; 
 there we meet each other now." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed M. Daburon, whose eyes were suddenly 
 opened, " I remember now. A few days before your visit 
 to Mademoiselle Goello, you are gayer than usual ; and, 
 when you return, you are often sad." 
 
 " That is because I see how much he is pained by the 
 obstacles he cannot overcome." 
 
 " Is his family, then, so illustrious," asked the magistrate 
 harshly, " that it disdains alliance with yours ? " 
 
 " I should have told you everything, without waiting to 
 be questioned, sir," answered Mademoiselle d'Arlange, 
 " even his name. He is called Albert de Commarin." 
 
 The marchioness at this moment, thinking she had 
 walked enough, was preparing to return to her rose-coloured 
 boudoir. She therefore approached the arbour, and ex- 
 claimed in her loud voice : " Worthy magistrate, piquet 
 awaits you." 
 
 Mechanically the magistrate arose, stammering, " I am 
 coming." 
 
 Claire held him back. " I have not asked you to keep 
 my secret, sir," said she. 
 
 "O mademoiselle ! " said M. Daburon, wounded by thi? 
 appearance of doubt. 
 
 " I know," resumed Claire, " that 1 can count upon you ; 
 but, come what will, my tranquillity is gone." M. Daburon 
 
104 THE LEROUUI-. CASE. 
 
 looked at her with an air of surprise ; his eyes questioned 
 her. " It, is certain," continued she, " that what I, a young 
 and inexperienced girl, have failed to see, has not passed 
 unnoticed by my grandmother. That she has continued 
 to receive you is a tacit encouragement of your addresses ; 
 which I consider, permit me to say, as very honourable to 
 myself." 
 
 " I have already mentioned, mademoiselle," replied the 
 magistrate, " that the marchioness has deigned to authorise 
 my hopes." And briefly 4ie related his interview with 
 Madame d'Arlange, having the delicacy, however, to omit 
 absolutely the question of money, which had so strongly 
 influenced the old lady. 
 
 " I see very plainly what effect this will have on my 
 peace," said Claire sadly. " When my grandmother learns 
 that I have not received your homage, she will be very 
 angry." 
 
 " You misjudge me, mademoiselle," interrupted M. 
 Daburon. " I have nothing to say to the marchioness. I 
 will retire, and all will be said. No doubt she will think 
 that I have altered my mind ! " 
 
 " Oh ! you are good and generous, I know ! " 
 
 " I will go away," pursued M. Daburon ; " and soon you 
 will have forgotten even the name of the unfortunate 
 whose life's hopes have just been shattered." 
 
 " You do not mean what you say," said the young girl 
 quickly. 
 
 " Well, no. I cherish this last illusion, that later on you 
 will remember me with pleasure. Sometimes you will say, 
 ' He loved me,' I wish all the same to remain your friend, 
 yes, your most devoted friend." 
 
 Claire, in her turn, clasped M. Daburon's hands, and 
 said with great emotion : " Yes, you are right, you must 
 remain my friend. Let us forget what has happened, 
 what you have said to-night, and remain to me, as in the 
 past, the best, the most indulgent of brothers." 
 
 Darkness had come, and she could not see him ; but 
 she knew he was weeping, for he was slow to answer. " Is 
 it possible," murmured he at length, " what you ask of 
 me ? What ! is it you who talk to me of forgetting ? Do 
 you feel the power to forget ? Do you not see that I 
 love yon a thousand times more than you love " He 
 stopped, unable to pronounce the name of Commarin ; 
 
/'//A' LI:KOL\,l: t ./.,/.. 105 
 
 and then, with an effort he added : " And I shall love you 
 always." 
 
 They had left the arbour, and were now standing not 
 far from the steps leading to the house. " And now, 
 mademoiselle," resumed M. Daburon, " permit me to say, 
 adieu ! You will see me again but seldom. I shall only 
 return often enough to avoid the appearance of a rupture." 
 His voice trembled, so that it was with difficulty he made 
 it distinct. 
 
 " Whatever may happen," he added, " remember that 
 there is one unfortunate being in the world who belongs 
 to you absolutely. If ever you have need of a friend's 
 devotion, come to me, come to your friend. Now it is 
 over ... I have courage. Claire, mademoiselle, for the 
 last time, adieu ! " 
 
 She was but little less moved than he was. Instinct- 
 ively she approached him, and for the first and last time 
 he touched lightly with his cold lips the forehead of her he 
 loved so well. They mounted the steps, she leaning on 
 his arm, and entered the rose-coloured boudoir where the 
 marchioness was seated, impatiently shuffling the cards, 
 while awaiting her victim. " Now, then, incorruptible 
 magistrate," cried she. 
 
 But M. Daburon felt sick at heart. He could not have 
 held the cards. He stammered some absurd excuses, 
 spoke of pressing affairs, of duties to be attended to, of 
 feeling suddenly unwell, and went out, clinging to the 
 walls. His departure made the old card-player highly in- 
 dignant. She turned to her grand-daughter, who had gone 
 to hide her confusion away from the candles of the card 
 table, and asked, " What .is the matter with Daburon this 
 evening ? " 
 
 " I do not know, madame," stammered Claire. 
 
 "It appears to me," continued the marchioness, "that 
 the little magistrate permits himself to take singular liber- 
 ties. He must be reminded of his proper place, or he will 
 end by believing himself our equal." 
 
 Claire tried to explain the magistrate's conduct : " He 
 has been complaining all the evening, grandmamma; per- 
 haps he is unwell.'' 
 
 " And what if he is ? " exclaimed the old lady. " Is it 
 not his duty to exercise some self-denial, in return for the 
 honour of our company ? I think I have already related 
 
io6 THE LEKOL'GE CASE. 
 
 to you the story of your granduncle, the Duke de St. 
 Huruge, who, having been chosen to join the king's card 
 party on their return from the chase, played all through 
 the evening and lost with the best grace in the world two 
 hundred and twenty pistoles. All the assembly remarked 
 his gaiety and his good humour. On the following day 
 only it was learned, that, during the hunt, he had fallen 
 from his horse, and had sat at his majesty's card table 
 with a broken rib. Nobody made any remark, so perfectly 
 natural did this act of ordinary politeness appear in those 
 days. This little Daburon, if he is unwell, would have 
 given proof of his breeding by saying nothing about it, 
 and remaining for my piquet. But he is as well as I am. 
 Who can tell what games he has gone to play elsewhere ! " 
 
 VII. 
 
 M. DABURON did not return home on leaving Mademoi- 
 selle d' Arlange. All through the night he wandered about 
 at random, seeking to cool his heated brow, and to allay 
 his excessive weariness. " Fool that I was ! " said he to 
 himself, " thousand times fool to have hoped, to have be- 
 lieved, that she would ever love me. Madman ! how could 
 I have dared to dream of possessing so much grace, noble- 
 ness, and beauty ! How charming she was this evening, 
 when her face was bathed in tears ! Could anything be 
 more angelic ? What a sublime expression her eyes had 
 in speaking of him ! How she must love him ! And I ? 
 She loves me as a father, she told me so, as a father ! 
 And could it be otherwise ? Is it not justice ? Could 
 she see a lover in a sombre and severe-looking magistrate, 
 always as sad as his black coat ? Was it not a crime to 
 dream of uniting that virginal simplicity to my detestable 
 knowledge of the world ? For her, the future is yet the 
 land of smiling chimeras : and long since experience has 
 dissipated all my illusions. She is as young as innocence, 
 and I am as old as vice." 
 
 The unfortunate magistrate felt thoroughly ashamed of 
 himself. He understood Claire, and excused her. He 
 reproached himself for having shown her how he suf- 
 fered ; for having cast a shadow upon her life. He could 
 not forgive himself for having spoken of his love. Ought 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 107 
 
 he not to have foreseen what had happened ? that she 
 would refuse him, that he would thus deprive himself of 
 the happiness of seeing her, of hearing her, and of silently 
 adoring her ? "A young and romantic girl," pursued he, 
 " must have a lover she can dream of, whom she can ca- 
 ress in imagination, as an ideal, gratifying herself by see- 
 ing in him every great and brilliant quality, imagining him 
 full of nobleness, of bravery, of heroism. What would she 
 see, if, in my absence, she dreamed of me ? Her imagina- 
 tion would present me dressed in a funeral robe, in the depth 
 of a gloomy dungeon, engaged with some vile criminal. 
 Is it not my trade to descend into all moral sinks, to stir 
 up the foulness of crime ? Am I not compelled to wash 
 in secrecy and darkness the dirty linen of the most corrupt 
 members of society ? Ah ! some professions are fatal. 
 Ought not the magistrate, like the priest, to condemn him- 
 self to solitude and celibacy ? Both know all, they hear 
 all, their costumes are nearly the same ; but, while the 
 priest carries consolation in the folds of his black* robe, 
 the magistrate conveys terror. One is mercy, the other 
 chastisement. Such are the images a thought of me would 
 awaken ; while the other, the other " 
 
 The wretched man continued his headlong course along 
 the deserted quays. He went with his head bare, his eyes 
 haggard. To breathe more freely, he had torn off his 
 cravat and thrown it to the winds. Sometimes, uncon- 
 sciously, he crossed the path of a solitary wayfarer, who 
 would pause, touched with pity, and turn to watch the re- 
 treating figure of the unfortunate wretch he thought deprived 
 of reason. In a by-road, near Crenelle, some police officers 
 stopped him, and tried to question him. He mechanically 
 tendered them his card. They read it, and permitted him 
 to pass, convinced that he was drunk. Anger, a furious 
 anger, began to replace his first feeling of resignation. In 
 his heart arose a hate, stronger and more violent than even 
 his love for Claire. That other, that preferred one, that 
 haughty viscount, who could not overcome those paltry 
 obstacles, oh, that he had him there, under his knee ! At 
 that moment, this noble and proud man, this severe and 
 grave magistrate experienced an irresistible longing for 
 vengeance. He began to understand the hate that arms 
 itself with a knife, and lays in ambush in out-of-the-way 
 places ; which strikes in the dark, whether in front or 
 
loS THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 from behind matters little, but which strikes, which kills, 
 whose vengeance blood alone can satisfy. At that very 
 hour he was supposed to be occupied with an inquiry into 
 the case of an unfortunate, accused of having stabbed 
 one of her wretched companions. She was jealous of the 
 woman, who had tried to take her lover from her. He 
 was a soldier, coarse in manners, and always drunk. M. 
 Daburon felt himself seized with pity for this miserable 
 creature, whom he had commenced to examine the day 
 before. She was very ugly, in fact truly repulsive ; but 
 the expression of the eyes, when speaking of her soldier, 
 returned to the magistrate's memory. " She loves him 
 sincerely," thought he. " If each one of the jurors had 
 suffered what I am suffering now, she would be acquitted. 
 But how many men in this world have loved passionately ? 
 Perhaps not one in twenty." He resolved to recommend 
 this girl to the indulgence of the tribunal, and to extenuate 
 as much as possible her guilt. For he himself had just 
 determined upon the commission of a crime. He was re- 
 solved to kill Albert de Commarin. 
 
 During the rest of the night he became all the more de- 
 termined in this resolution, demonstrating to himself by a 
 thousand mad reasons, which he found solid and inscruta- 
 ble, the necessity for and the justifiableness of this venge- 
 ance. At seven o'clock in the morning, he found himself 
 in an avenue of the Bois de Boulogne, not far from the 
 lake. He made at once for the Porte Maillot, procured a 
 cab, and was driven to his house. The delirium of the 
 night continued, but without suffering. He was conscious 
 of no fatigue. Calm and cool, he acted under the power 
 of an hallucination-, almost like a somnambulist. He re- 
 flected and reasoned, but without his reason. As soon as 
 he arrived home he dressed himself with care, as was his 
 custom formerly when visiting the Marchioness d'Arlange, 
 and went out. He first called at an armourer's and bought 
 a small revolver, which he caused to be carefully loaded 
 under his own eyes, and put it into his pocket. He then 
 called on the different persons he supposed capable of in- 
 forming him to what club the viscount belonged. No one 
 noticed the strange state of his mind, so natural were his 
 manners and conversations. It was not until the after- 
 noon that a young friend of his gave him the name of 
 Albert de Commarin's club, and offered to conduct him 
 
THE LEKOUGE CASE. 109 
 
 thither, as he too was a member. M. Daburon accepted 
 warmly, and accompanied his friend. While passing along, 
 he grasped with frenzy the handle of the revolver which he 
 kept concealed, thinking only of the murder he was deter- 
 mined to commit, and the means of insuring the accuracy 
 of his aim. "This will make a terrible scandal," thought 
 he, " above all if I do not succeed in blowing my own brains 
 out. I shall be arrested, thrown into prison, and placed up- 
 on my trial at the assizes. My name will be dishonored ! 
 Bah ! what does that signify ? Claire does not love me, so 
 what care I for all the rest ? My father no doubt will die 
 of grief, but I must have my revenge ! " 
 
 On arriving at the club, his friend pointed out a very 
 dark young man, with a haughty air, or what appeared so 
 to him, who, seated at a table, was reading a review. It 
 was the viscount. M. Daburon walked up to him without 
 drawing his revolver. But when within two paces, his 
 heart failed him ; he turned suddenly and fled, leaving his 
 friend astonished at a scene, to him, utterly inexplicable. 
 Only once again will Albert de Commarin be as near death. 
 On reaching the street, it seemed to M. Uaburon that the 
 ground was receding from beneath him, that everything 
 was turning around him. He tried to cry out, but could 
 not utter a sound ; he struck at the air with his hands, 
 reeled for an instant, ' and then fell all of a heap on the 
 pavement. The passers-by ran and assisted the police to 
 raise him. In one of his pockets they found his address, 
 and carried him home. 
 
 When he recovered his senses, he was in his bed, at the 
 foot of which he perceived his father. " What has hap- 
 pened ? " he asked. With much caution they told him, 
 that for si3i weeks he had wavered between life and death, 
 The doctors had declared his life saved ; and, now that 
 reason was restored, all would go well. Five minutes' 
 conversation exhausted him*. He shut his eyes, and tried 
 to collect his ideas ; but they whirled hither and thither 
 wildly, as autumn leaves in the wind. The past seemed 
 shrouded in a dark mist ; yet, in the midst of the darkness 
 and confusion, all that concerned Mademoiselle d'Arlange 
 stood out clear and luminous. All his actions from the 
 moment when he embraced Claire appeared before him. 
 He shuddered, and his hair was in a moment soaking with 
 perspiration. He had almost become an assassin. The proof 
 
no THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 that he was restored to full possession of his faculties was, 
 that a question of criminal law crossed his brain. " The 
 crime committed," said he to himself, " should I have been 
 condemned ? Yes. Was I responsible ? No. Is crime 
 merely the result of mental alienation ? Was I mad ? Or 
 was I in that peculiar state of mind which usually precedes 
 an illegal attempt ? Who can say ? Why have not all 
 judges passed through an incomprehensible crisis such as 
 mine ? But who would believe me, were I to recount my ex- 
 perience ? " 
 
 Some days later, he was sufficiently recovered to tell 
 his father all. The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders, 
 and assured him it was but a reminiscence of his delirium. 
 The good old man was moved at the story of his son's 
 luckless wooing, without seeing therein, however, an 
 irreparable misfortune. He advised him to think of some- 
 thing else, placed at his disposal his entire fortune, and 
 recommended him to marry a stout Poitevine heiress, very 
 gay and healthy, who would bear him some fine children. 
 Then, as his estate was suffering by his absence, he returned 
 home. Two months later, the investigating magistrate had 
 resumed his ordinary avocations. But try as he would, he 
 only went through his duties like a body without a soul. 
 He felt that something was broken. Once he ventured to 
 pa}' a visit to his old friend, the marchioness. On seeing 
 him, she uttered a cry of terror. She took him for a 
 spectre, so much was he changed in appearance. As she 
 dreaded dismal faces, she ever after shut her door to him. 
 Claire was ill for a 'week after seeing him. " How he loved 
 me." thought she, " It has almost killed him ! Can Albert 
 love me as much ? " She did not dare to answer her -self. 
 She felt a desire to console him, to speak to him, -attempt 
 something ; but he came no more. 
 
 M. Daburon was not, however, a man to give way with- 
 out a struggle. He tried, as his father advised him, to 
 distract his thoughts. He sought for pleasure, and found 
 disgust, but not forgetfulness. Often he went so far as the 
 threshold of debauchery ; but the pure figure of Claire, 
 dressed in white garments, always barred the doors against 
 him. Then he took refuge in work, as in a sanctuary ; con- 
 demned himself to the most incessant labour, and forbade 
 himself to think of Claire, as the consumptive forbids him- 
 self to meditate upon his malady. His eagerness, his fever- 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. in 
 
 ish activity, earned him the reputation of an ambitious man, 
 who would go far ; but he cared for nothing in the world. 
 At length, he found, not rest, but that painless benumbing 
 which commonly follows a great catastrophe. The 
 convalescence of oblivion was commencing. 
 
 These were the events, recalled to M. Daburon's mind 
 when old Tabaret pronounced the name of Commarin. 
 He believed them buried under the ashes of time ; and be- 
 hold they reappeared, just the same as those characters 
 traced in sympathetic ink when held before a fire. In an 
 instant they unrolled themselves before his memory, with 
 the instantaneousness of a dream annihilating time and 
 space. During some minutes, he assisted at the represen- 
 tation of his own life. At once actor and spectator, he 
 was there seated in his arm-chair, and at the same time he 
 appeared on the stage. He acted, and he judged him- 
 self. His first thought, it must be confessed, was one of 
 hate, followed by a detestable feeling of satisfaction. 
 Chance had, so to say, delivered into his hands this man pre 
 f erred by Claire, this man, now no longer a haughty, 
 nobleman, illustrious by his fortune and his ancestors, but 
 the illegitimate offspring of a courtesan. To retain a 
 stolen name, he had committed a most cowardly assassi- 
 nation. And he, the magistrate, was about to experience 
 the infinite gratification of striking his enemy with the 
 sword of justice. But this was only a passing thought. The 
 man's upright conscience revolted against it, and made its 
 powerful voice heard. " Is anything," it cried, " more 
 monstrous than the association of these two ideas, hatred 
 and justice ? Can a magistrate, without despising himself 
 more than he despises the vile beings he condemns, recollect 
 that a criminal, whose fate is in his hands, has been his 
 enemy? Has an investigating magistrate the right to make 
 use of his exceptional powers in dealing with a prisoner, 
 so long as he harbours the least resentment against him ? " 
 M. Daburon repeated to himself what he had so fre- 
 quently thought during the year, when commencing a 
 fresh investigation : " And I also, I almost stained myself 
 with a vile murder ! " And now it was his duty to cause 
 to be arrested, to interrogate, and hand over to the as- 
 sizes the man he had once resolved to kill. All the world, 
 it is true, ignored this crime of thought and intention ; 
 but could he himself forget it ? Was not this, of all 
 
II- THE I.EKOCGE CASE. 
 
 others, a case in which he should decline to be mixed 
 up ? Ought he not to withdraw, and wash his hands 
 of the blood that had been shed, leaving to another the 
 task of avenging him in the name of society ? " No," said 
 he, " it would be a cowardice unworthy of me." A project 
 of mad generosity occurred to the bewildered man. " If I 
 save him," murmured he, " if for Claire's sake I leave him 
 his honour and his life. But how can I save him ? To do 
 so I shall be obliged to suppress old Tabaret's discoveries, 
 and make an accomplice of him by ensuring his silence. 
 We shall have to follow a wrong track, join Gevrol in 
 running after some imaginary murderer. Is this practi- 
 cable ? Besides, to spare Albert is to defame Noel ; it is to 
 assure impunity to the most odious of crimes. In short, it 
 is still sacrificing justice to my feelings." 
 
 The magistrate suffered greatly. How choose a path 
 in the midst of so many perplexities ! Impelled by different 
 interests, he wavered, undecided between the most op- 
 posite decisions, his mind oscillating from one extreme to 
 the other. What could he do? His reason after this new 
 and unforeseen shock vainly sought to regain its equilib- 
 rium. " Resign ? " said he to himself. " Where, then, 
 would be my courage ? Ought I not rather to remain the 
 representative of the law, incapable of emotion, insensible 
 to prejudice ? am I so weak that, in assuming my office, I 
 am unable to divest myself of my personality ? Can I not, 
 for the present, make abstraction of the past ? My duty is 
 to pursue this investigation. Claire herself would desire 
 me to act thus. Would she wed a man suspected of a 
 crime ? Never. If he is innocent, he will be saved ; if 
 guilty, let him perish ! " This was very sound reasoning ; 
 but, at the bottom of his heart, a thousand disquietudes 
 darted their thorns. He wanted to reassure himself. 
 " Do I still hate this young man ? " he continued. " No, 
 certainly. If Claire has preferred him to me, it is to Claire 
 and not to him I owe my suffering. My rage was no more 
 than a passing fit of delirium. I will prove ; t, by letting 
 him find me as much a counsellor as a magistrate. If 
 he is not guilty, he shall make use of all the means in my 
 power to establish his innocence. Yes, I am worthy to be 
 his judge. Heaven, who reads all my thoughts, sees that 
 I love Claire enough to desire with all my heart the inno- 
 cence of her lover." Onlv then did M. Daburon seem to 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 113 
 
 be vaguely aware of the lapse of time. It was nearly three 
 o'clock in the morning. " Goodness ! " cried he ; " why, 
 old Tabaret is waiting for me. I shall probably find him 
 asleep." 
 
 But M. Tabaret was not asleep. He had noticed the 
 the passage of time no more than the magistrate. Ten 
 minutes had sufficed him to take an inventory of the con- 
 tents of M. Daburon's study, which was large, and hand- 
 somely furnished in accordance with his position and for- 
 tune. Taking up a lamp, he first admired six very valu- 
 able pictures, which ornamented the walls ; he then ex- 
 amined with considerable curiosity some rare bronzes 
 placed about the room, and bestowed on the bookcase the 
 glance of a connoisseur. After which, taking an evening 
 paper from the table, he approached the hearth, and seated 
 himself in a vast armchair. He had not read a third of the 
 leading article, which, like all leading articles of the time, 
 was exclusively occupied with the Roman question, when, 
 letting the paper drop from his hands, he became absorbed 
 in meditation. The fixed idea, stronger than one's will, and 
 more interesting to him than politics, brought him forcibly 
 back to La Jonchere, where lay the body Widow Lerouge. 
 Like the child who again and again builds up and demol- 
 ishes his house of cards, he arranged and entangled alter- 
 nately his chain of inductions and arguments. In his own 
 mind there was certainly no longer a doubt as regards this 
 sad affair, and it seemed to him that M. Daburon shared 
 his opinions. But yet, what difficulties there still remained 
 to encounter ! There exists between the investigating 
 magistrate and the acused a supreme tribunal, an admir- 
 able institution which is a guarantee for all, a powerful 
 moderator, the jury. And the jury, thank heaven ! do 
 not content themselves with a moral conviction. The 
 strongest probabilities cannot induce them to give an affirm- 
 ative verdict. The accusation must then come before 
 the jury, armed at all points, with abundant proofs. A 
 task often tedious to the investigating magistrate, and 
 bristling with difficulties, is the arrangement and conden- 
 sation of this evidence, particularly when the accused is a 
 cool hand, certain of having left no traces of his guilt. 
 Even when presumptive evidence points clearly to the 
 criminal, and common sense recognises him, justice is at 
 8 
 
H4 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 times compelled to acknowledge her defeat, for lack of what 
 the jury consider sufficient proof of guilt. Thus, unhappily, 
 many crimes escape punishment. An old advocate-gen' 
 eral said one day that he knew as many as three assassins, 
 living rich, happy, and respected, who would probably end 
 by dying in their beds, surrounded by their families, and 
 being followed to the grave with lamentations, and 
 praised for their virtues in their epitaphs. 
 
 At the idea that a murderer might escape the penalty of 
 his crime, and steal away from the assize court, old Taba- 
 ret's blood fairly boiled in his veins, as at the recollection 
 of some deadly insult. Such a monstrous event, in his 
 opinion, could only proceed from the incapacity of those 
 charged with the preliminary inquiry, the clumsiness of 
 the police, or the stupidity of the investigating magistrate. 
 " It is not I," he muttered, with the satisfied vanity of 
 success, " who would ever let my prey escape. No crime 
 can be committed, of which the author cannot be found, 
 unless, indeed, he happens to be a madman, whose motive 
 it would be difficult to understand. I would pass my life 
 in pursuit of a criminal, before avowing myself vanquished, 
 as Gevrol has done so many times." Assisted by chance, 
 he had again succeeded, so he kept repeating to himself, 
 but what proofs could he furnish to the accusation, to tha'. 
 confounded jury, so difficult to convince, so precise and 
 so cowardly ? What could he imagine to force so cunning 
 a culprit to betray himself ? What trap could he prepare ? 
 To what new and infallible stratagem could he have re- 
 course ? The amateur detective exhausted himself in sub- 
 tle but impracticable combinations, always stopped by that 
 exacting jury, so obnoxious to the agents of the Rue de 
 Jerusalem. He was so deeply absorbed in his thoughts 
 that he did not hear the door open, and was utterly uncon* 
 scious of the magistrate's presence. 
 
 M. Daburon's voice aroused him from his reverie. 
 " You will excuse me, M. Tabaret, for having left you so 
 long alone." 
 
 The old fellow rose and bowed respectfully. " By my 
 faith, sir," replied he, " I have not had the leisure to 
 perceive my solitude." 
 
 M. Daburon crossed the room, and seated himself, fac- 
 ing his agent before a small table encumbered with papers 
 and documents relating to the crime. He appeared very 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 115 
 
 much fatigued. " I have reflected a good deal," he com- 
 menced, " about this affair " 
 
 " And I," interrupted old Tabaret, " was just asking 
 myself what was likely to be the attitude assumed by the 
 viscount at the moment of his arrest. Nothing is more 
 important, according to my idea, than his manner of con- 
 ducting himself then. Will he fly into a passion ? Will 
 he attempt to intimidate the agents ? Will he threaten to 
 turn them out of the house ? These are generally the 
 tactics of titled criminals. My opinion, however, is, that 
 he will remain perfectly cool. He will declare himself 
 the victim of a misunderstanding, and insist upon an im- 
 mediate interview with the investigating magistrate. Once 
 that is accorded him, he will explain everything very 
 quickly." 
 
 The old fellow spoke of matters of speculation in such 
 a tone of assurance that M. Daburon was unable to re- 
 press a smile. " We have not got as far as that yet," said 
 he. 
 
 " But we shall, in a few hours," replied M. Tabaret 
 quickly. " I presume you will order young M. de Com- 
 marin's arrest at daybreak." 
 
 The magistrate trembled, like the patient who sees the 
 surgeon deposit his case of instruments upon the table on 
 entering the room. The moment for action had come. 
 He felt what a distance lies between a mental decision 
 and the physical action required to execute it. You are 
 prompt, M. Tabaret," said he ; " you recognize no obsta- 
 cles." 
 
 " None, having ascertained the criminal. Who else can 
 have committed this assassination ? Who but he had an 
 interest in silencing Widow LerougCj in suppressing her 
 testimony, in destroying her papers ? He, and only he. 
 Poor Noel ! who is as dull as honesty, warned him, and 
 he acted. Should we fail to establish his guilt, he will 
 remain de Commarin more than ever; and my young bar 
 rister will be Noel Gerdv to the grave." 
 
 '< Yes, but" 
 
 The old man fixed his eyes upon the magistrate with a 
 look of astonishment. " You see, then, some difficulties, 
 sir ? " he asked. 
 
 " Most decidedly ! " replied M. Daburon. " This is a 
 matter demanding the utmost circumspection. In cases 
 
n6 TV//: I.EROUCE CAS I.. 
 
 like the present, one must not strike until the blow is sure, 
 and we have but presumptions. Suppose we are mistaken. 
 Justice, unhappily, cannot repair her errors. Her hand 
 once unjustly placed upon a man, leaves an imprint of 
 dishonour that can never be effaced. She may perceive 
 her error, and proclaim it aloud, but in vain ! Public 
 opinion, absurd and idiotic, will not pardon the man 
 guilty of being suspected." 
 
 It was with a sinking heart that the old fellow listened 
 to these remarks. He would not be withheld by such pal- 
 try considerations. 
 
 " Our suspicions are well grounded," continued the 
 magistrate. " But, should they lead us into error, cur 
 precipitation would be a terrible misfortune for this young 
 man, to say nothing of the effect it would have in abridg- 
 ing the authority and dignity of justice, of weakening the 
 respect which constitutes her power. Such a mistake 
 would call for discussion, provoke examination, and awaken 
 distrust, at an epoch in our history when all minds are 
 but too much disposed to defy the constituted authorities." 
 
 He leaned upon the table, and appeared to reflect pro- 
 foundly. " I have no luck," thought old Tabaret. " I 
 have to do with a trembler. When he should act, he makes 
 speeches ; instead of signing warrants, he propounds the- 
 ories. He is astounded at my discover}', and is not equal 
 to the situation. Instead of being delighted by my ap- 
 pearance with the news of our success, he would have given 
 a twenty-franc piece, I dare say, to have been left undis- 
 turbed. Ah ! he would very willingly have the little fishes 
 in his net, but the big ones frighten him. The big fishes 
 are dangerous, and he prefers to let them swim away." 
 
 " Perhaps," said M. Daburon, aloud, " it will suffice to 
 issue a search-warrant, and a summons for the appearance 
 of the accused." 
 
 " Then all is lost ! " cried old Tabaret. 
 
 " And why, pray ? " 
 
 " Because we are opposed by a criminal of marked 
 ability. A most providential accident has placed us upon 
 his track. If we give him time to breathe, he will escape." 
 
 The only answer was an inclination of the head, which 
 M. Daburon may have intended for a sign of assent. 
 
 " It is evident," continued the old fellow, " that our ad- 
 versary has foreseen everything, absolutely everything. 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 117 
 
 even the possibility of suspicion attaching to one in his 
 high position. Oh ! his precautions are all taken. If you 
 are satisfied with demanding his appearance, he is saved. 
 He will appear before you as tranquilly as your clerk, as 
 unconcerned as if he came to arrange the preliminaries 
 of a duel. He will present you w^th a magnificent alibi, 
 an alibi that can not be gainsayed. He will show you 
 that he passed the evening and the night of Tuesday with 
 personages of the highest rank. In short, his little ma- 
 chine will be so cleverly constructed, so nicely arranged, 
 all its little wheels will play so well, that there will be 
 nothing left for you but to open the door and usher him 
 out with the most humble apologies. The only means of 
 securing conviction is to surprise the miscreant by a 
 rapidity against which it is impossible he can be on his 
 guard. Fall upon him like a thunder-clap, arrest him as 
 he wakes, drag him hither while yet pale with astonish- 
 ment, and interrogate him at once. Ah ! I wish I were 
 an investigating magistrate." 
 
 Old Tabaret stopped short, frightened at the idea that 
 he had been wanting in respect ; but M. Daburon showed 
 no sign of being offended. " Proceed," said he, in a tone 
 of encouragement, " proceed." 
 
 " Suppose, then," continued the detective, " I am the 
 investigating magistrate. I cause my man to be arrested, 
 and, twenty minutes later, he is standing before me. I 
 do not amuse myself by putting questions to him, more 
 or less subtle. No, I go straight to the mark. I over- 
 whelm him at once by the weight of my certainty, prove 
 to him so clearly that I know everything, that he must 
 surrender, seeing no chance of escape. I should say to 
 him, ' My good man, you bring me an alibi ; it is very 
 well ; but I am acquainted with that system of defence. 
 It will not do with me. I know all about the clocks that 
 don't keep proper time, and all the people who never 
 lost sight of you. In the meantime, this is what you did. 
 At twenty minutes past eight, you slipped away adroitly ; 
 at thirty-five minutes past eight, you took the train at the 
 St Lazare station ; at nine oclock, you alighted at the 
 station at Rueil, and took the road to La Jonchere ; at a 
 quarter past nine, you knocked at the window-shutter of 
 Widow Lerouge's cottage. You were admitted. You 
 asked for something to eat, and, above all, something to 
 
us THE I.KKOI:GE CASK. 
 
 drink. At twenty minutes past nine, you planted the 
 well-sharpened end of a foil between her shoulders. You 
 killed her ! You then overturned everything in the house, 
 and burned certain documents of importance ; after which, 
 you tied up in a napkin all the valuables you could find, 
 and carried them off, to lead the police to believe the 
 murder was the work of a robber. You locked the door, 
 and threw away the key. Arrived at the Seine, you threw 
 the bundle into the water, then hurried off to the railway 
 station on foot, and at eleven o'clock you reappeared 
 amongst your friends. Your game was well played ; but 
 you omitted to provide against two adversaries, a detec- 
 tive, not easily deceived, named Tirauclair, and another 
 still more clever, named chance. Between them, they 
 have got the better of you. Moreover, you were foolish 
 to wear such small boots, and to keep on your lavender 
 kid gloves, besides embarrassing yourself \vith a silk hat 
 and an umbrella. Now confess your guilt, for it is the 
 only thing left you to do, and I will give you permission 
 to smoke in your dungeon some of those excellent trabucos 
 you are so fond of, and which you always smoke with an 
 amber mouthpiece.' " During this speech, M. Tabaret 
 had gained at least a couple of inches in height, so great 
 was his enthusiasm. He looked at the magistrate, as if 
 expecting a smile of approbation. " Yes," continued he, 
 after taking breath, " I would say that, and nothing else ; 
 and, unless this man is a hundred times stronger than I 
 suppose him to be, unless he is made of bronze, of marble, 
 or of steel, he would fall at my feet and avow his guilt." 
 
 " But supposing he were of bronze," said M. Daburon, 
 " and did not fall at your feet, what would you do next ? " 
 
 The question evidently embarrassed the old fellow. 
 " Pshaw ! " stammered he ; "I don't know ; I would see ; 
 I would search ; but he would confess." 
 
 After a prolonged silence, M. Daburon took a pen, and 
 hurriedly wrote a few lines. " I surrender," said he. 
 " M. Albert de Commarin shall be arrested ; that is 
 settled. The different formalities to be gone through and 
 the perquisitions will occupy some time, which I wish to 
 employ in interrogating the Count de Commarin, the 
 young man's father, and your friend M. Noel Gerdy, the 
 young barrister. The letters he possesses are indispen- 
 sable to me." 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 119 
 
 At the name of Gercly, M. Tabaret's face assumed a 
 most comical expression of uneasiness. " Confound it," 
 cried he, " the very thing I most dreaded." 
 
 " What ? " asked M. Daburon. 
 
 "The necessity for the examination of those letters. 
 Noel will discover my interference. He will despise me : 
 lie will fly from me, when he knows that Tabaret and 
 Tirauclair sleep in the same nightcap. Before eight 
 days are past, my oldest friends will refuse to shake 
 hands with me, as if it were not an honour to serve justice. 
 I shall be obliged to change my residence, and assume a 
 false name." 
 
 He almost wept, so great was his annoyance. M. 
 Daburon was touched. " Reassure yourself, my dear M. 
 Tabaret," said he. " I will manage that your adopted 
 son, your Benjamin, shall know nothing. I will lead him 
 to believe I have reached him by means of the widow's 
 papers." 
 
 The old fellow seized the magistrate's hand in a trans- 
 port of gratitude, and carried it to his lips. Oh ! thanks, 
 sir, a thousand thanks ! I should like to be permitted to 
 witness the arrest ; and I shall be glad to assist at the 
 perquisitions." 
 
 " I intended to ask you to do so, M. Tabaret," answered 
 the magistrate. The lamps paled in the gray dawn of the 
 morning ; already the rumbling of vehicles was heard ; 
 Paris was awaking. " I have no time to lose," continued 
 M. Daburon, "if I would have all my measures well taken. 
 I must at once see the public prosecutor, whether he is up 
 or not. I shall go direct from his house to the Palais de 
 Justice, and be there before eight o'clock ; and I desire, 
 M. Tabaret, that you will there await my orders." 
 
 The old fellow bowed his thanks and was about to leave, 
 when the magistrate's servant appeared. " Here is a note, 
 sir," said he, "which a gendarme has just brought from 
 JJougival. He waits an answer." 
 
 "Very well," replied M. Daburon. "Ask the man to 
 have some refreshment ; at least offer him a glass of wine." 
 
 He opened the envelope. "Ah!" he cried, "a letter 
 from Gevrol ; " and he read : " ' To the investigating mag- 
 istrate. Sir, I have the honor to inform you, that I am on 
 the track of the man with the ear-rings. I heard of him 
 at a wine shop, which he entered on Sunday morning, be- 
 
120 THE I. E ROUGE CASE. 
 
 fore going to Widow Lerouge's cottage. He 'bought, and 
 paid for two litres of wine ; then, suddenly striking his 
 forehead, he cried, " Old fool ! to forget that to-morrow is 
 the boat's fete day ! " and immediately called for three 
 more litres. According to the almanac the boat must be 
 called the Saint-Mann. I have also learned that she was 
 laden with grain. I write to the Prefecture at the same 
 time as I write to you, that inquiries may be made at Paris 
 and Rouen. He will be found at one of those places. I 
 am in waiting, sir, &c.' " 
 
 " Poor Gevrol ! " cried old Tabaret, bursting with laugh- 
 ter. " He sharpens his sabre, and the battle is over. 
 Are you not going to put a stop to his inquiries, sir ? " 
 
 "No; certainly not," answered M. Daburon ; "to neg 
 lect the slightest clue often leads one into error. Who 
 can tell what light we may receive from this mariner ? " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ON the same day that the crime of La Jonchere was dis- 
 covered, and precisely at the hour that M. Tabaret made 
 his memorable examination in the victim's chamber, the 
 Viscount Albert de Commarin entered his carriage, and 
 proceeded to the Northern railway station, to meet his 
 father. The young man was very pale : his pinched fea- 
 tures, his dull eyes, his blanched lips, in fact his whole 
 appearance denoted either overwhelming fatigue or un- 
 usual sorrow. All the servants had observed, that, during 
 the past five days, their young master had not been in his 
 ordinary condition : he spoke but little, ate almost nothing, 
 and refused to see any visitors. His valet noticed that 
 this singular change dated from the visit, on Sunday morn- 
 ing, of a certain M. Noel Gerdy, who had been closeted 
 with him for three hours in the library. The Viscount, 
 gay as a lark until the arrival of this person, had, from the 
 moment of his departure, the appearance of a man at the 
 point of death. When setting forth to meet his father, the 
 viscount appeared to suffer so acutely that M. Lubin, his 
 valet, entreated him not to go out ; suggesting that it 
 would be more prudent to retire to his room, and call in 
 the doctor. But the Count de Commarin was exacting on 
 the score of filial duty, and would overlook the worst of 
 
THE J.EROUGE CASE. 121 
 
 youthful indiscretions sooner than what he termed a want 
 of reverence. He had announced his intended arrival by 
 telegraph, twenty-four hours in advance ; therefore the 
 house was expected to be in perfect readiness to receive 
 him, and the absence of Albert at the railway station 
 would have been resented as a flagrant omission of duty. 
 The viscount had been but five minutes in the waiting- 
 room, when the bell announced the arrival of the train. 
 Soon the doors leading on to the platform were opened, 
 and the travelers crowded in. The throng beginning to 
 thin a little, the count appeared, followed by a servant, 
 who carried a travelling pelisse lined with rare and valua- 
 ble fur. 
 
 The Count de Commarin looked a good ten years less 
 than his age. His beard and hair, yet abundant, were 
 scarcely gray. He was tall and muscular, held himself 
 .upright, and carried his head high. His appearance was 
 noble, his movements easy. His regular features present- 
 ed a study to the physiognomist, all expressing easy, care- 
 less good nature, even to the handsome, smiling mouth ; 
 but in his eyes flashed the fiercest and the most arrogant 
 pride. This contrast revealed the secret of his character. 
 Imbued quite as deeply with aristocratic prejudice as the 
 Marchioness d'Arlange, he had progressed with his cen- 
 tury or at least appeared to have done so. As fully as the 
 marchioness, he held in contempt all who were not noble ; 
 but his disdain expressed itself in a different fashion. 
 The marchioness proclaimed her contempt loudly and 
 coarsely ; the count had kept eyes and ears open and had 
 seen and heard a good deal. She was stupid, and with- 
 out a shade of common sense. He was witty and sensi- 
 ble, and possessed enlarged views of life and politics. 
 She dreamed of the return of the absurd traditions of a 
 former age ; he hoped for things within the power of 
 events to bring forth. He was sincerely persuaded that 
 the nobles of France would yet recover slowly and silently, 
 but surely, all their lost power, with its prestige and influ- 
 ence. In a word, the count was the flattered portrait of 
 his class; the marchioness its caricature. It should be 
 added, that M. de Commarin knew how to divest himself 
 of his crushing urbanity in the company of his equals. 
 There he recovered his true character, haughty, self-suffi- 
 cient, and intractable, enduring contradiction pretty much 
 
(23* THE l.EKOl'CE CASE. 
 
 as a wild horse the application of the spur. In his own 
 house, he was a despot. 
 
 Perceiving his father, Albert advanced towards him. 
 They shook hands and embraced with an air as noble as 
 ceremonious, and, in less than a minute, had exchanged 
 ,!! the news that had transpired during the count's ab- 
 sence. Then only did M. de Commarin perceive the alter- 
 ation in his son's face. " You are unwell, viscount," said 
 he. 
 
 " Oh, no, sir," answered Albert, laconically. 
 
 The count uttered "Ah!" accompanied by a certain 
 movement of the head, which, with him, expressed perfect 
 incredulity ; then, turning to his servant, he gave him 
 some orders briefly. " Now," resumed he, " let us go 
 quickly to the house. I am in haste to feel at home ; and 
 I am hungry, having had nothing to-day, but some detest' 
 able broth, at I know not what way station." 
 
 M. de Commarin had returned to Paris in a very bad 
 temper, his journey to Austria had not brought the results 
 he had hoped for. To crown his dissatisfaction, he had 
 rested, on his homeward way, at the chateau of an old 
 friend, with whom he had had so violent a discussion that they 
 had parted without shaking hands. The count was hardly 
 seated in his carnage before he entered upon the subject 
 of this disagreement. "I have quarrelled with the Duke 
 de Sairmeuse," said he to his son. 
 
 " That seems to me to happen whenever you meet," an- 
 swered Albert, without intending any raillery. 
 
 " True," said the count : " but this is serious. I passed 
 four days at his country-seat, in a state of inconceivable 
 exasperation. He has entirely forfeited my esteem. 
 Sairmeuse has sold his estate of Gondresy, one of the finest 
 in the north of France. He has cut down the timber, and 
 put up to auction the old chateau, a princely dwelling, 
 which is to be converted into a sugar refinery ; all this for 
 for the purpose, as he says, of raising money to increase 
 his income ! " 
 
 " And was that the cause of your rupture ? " inquired 
 Albert, without much surprise. 
 
 " Certainly it was ! Do you not think it a sufficient 
 one ? " 
 
 " But, sir, you know the duke has a large family, and is 
 far from rich." 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE, 123 
 
 " What of that ? A French noble who sells his land 
 commits an unworthy act. He is guilty of treason against 
 his order ! " 
 
 " Oh, sir," said Albert, deprecatingly. 
 
 " I said treason ! " continued the count. " I maintain 
 the word. Remember well, viscount, power has been, 
 and always will be, on the side of wealth, especially on the 
 side of those who hold the soil. The men of '93 well 
 understood this principle, and acted upon it. By impov- 
 erishing the nobles, they destroyed their prestige more 
 effectually than by abolishing their titles. A prince dis- 
 mounted, and without footmen, is no more than any one 
 else." 
 
 The carriage at this moment stopped in the court-yard 
 of the de Commarin mansion, after having described that 
 perfect half-circle, the glory of coachmen who preserve the 
 old tradition. The count alighted first, and leaning upon 
 his son's arm, ascended the steps. of the grand entrance. 
 In the immense vestibule, nearly all the servants, dressed 
 in rich liveries, stood in a line. The count gave them a 
 glance, in passing, as an officer might his soldiers f-n pa- 
 rade, and proceeded to his apartment on the first floor, 
 above the reception rooms. Never was there a better 
 regulated household than that of the Count de Commarin. 
 He possessed in a high degree the art, more rare than is 
 generally supposed, of commanding an army of servants. 
 The number of his domestics caused him neither inconven- 
 ience nor embarrassment. They were necessary tp- hin^ 
 So perfect was the organisation of this household, that its 
 functions were performed like those of a machine,^ -with- 
 out noise, variation, or effort. 
 
 M. de Commarin had hardly removed the traces of his 
 journey, and changed his dress, when his butler announced 
 that the dinner was served. He went down at once ; and 
 father and son met upon the threshold of the dining-room. 
 This was a large apartment, with a very high ceiling, as 
 were all the rooms of the ground floor, and was mos* mag- 
 nificently furnished. The count was not only a great eater, 
 but was vain of his enormous appetite. He was fond of 
 recalling the names of great men, noted for their capacity 
 of stomach. Charles V. devoured mountains of viands. 
 Louis XIV. swallowed at each repast as much as six ordi- 
 nary men would eat at a meal. He pretended that one 
 
LEROUGE CA.M:. 
 
 can almost judge of men's qualities by their digestive ca- 
 pacities; he compared them to lamps, whose power of 
 giving light is in proportion to the oil they consume. 
 I )uring the first half hour, the count and his son both remain- 
 ed silent. M. de Commarin ate conscientiously, not per 
 ceiving or not caring to notice that Albert ate nothing, but 
 merely sat at the table as if to countenance him. The old 
 nobleman's ill-humour and volubility returned with the 
 dessert, apparently increased by a Burgundy of which he 
 was particularly fond, and of which he drank freely. He 
 was partial, moreover, to an after dinner argument, pro- 
 fessing a theory that moderate discussion is a perfect 
 digestive. A letter which had been delivered to him on 
 his arrival, and which he had found time to glance over, 
 gave him at once a subject and a point of departure. " I 
 arrived home but an hour ago ; " said he, " and I have 
 already received a homily from Broisfresnay." 
 
 " He writes a great deal," observed Albert. 
 
 " Too much ; he consumes himself in ink. He mentions 
 a lot more of his ridiculous projects and vain hopes, and 
 he mentions a dozen names of men of his own stamp who 
 are his associates. On my word of honor, they seem to 
 have lost their senses ! They talk of lifting the world, 
 only they want a lever and something to rest it on. It 
 makes me die with laughter ! " For ten minutes the count 
 continued to discharge a volley of abuse and sarcasm 
 against his best friends, without seeming to see that a 
 great many of their foibles which he ridiculed were also a 
 little his own. " If," continued he more seriously, " if 
 they only possessed a little confidence in themselves, if 
 they showed the least audacity ! But no ! they count upon 
 others to do for them what they ought to do for them- 
 selves. In short, their proceedings are a series of con- 
 fessions of helplessness, of premature declarations of 
 failure." 
 
 The coffee having been served, the count made a sign, 
 and the servants left the room. 
 
 " No," continued he, " I see but one hope for the French 
 aristocracy, but one plank of salvation, one good little law, 
 establishing the right of primogeniture." 
 
 " You will. never obtain it." ' 
 
 " You think not ? Would you then oppose such a meas- 
 ure, viscount ? " 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 125 
 
 Albert knew by experience what dangerous ground his 
 father was approaching, and remained silent. 
 
 " Let us put it, then, that I dream of the impossible ! " 
 resumed the count. " Then let the nobles do their duty. 
 Let all the younger sons and the daughters of our great 
 families forego their rights, by giving up the entire patri- 
 mony to the first-born for five generations, contenting 
 themselves each with a couple of thousand francs a year. 
 By that means great fortunes can be reconstructed, and 
 families, instead of being divided by a variety of interests, 
 become united by one common desire." 
 
 " Unfortunately," objected the viscount, " the time is 
 not favorable to such devotedness." 
 
 " I know it, sir," replied the count, quickly ; " and in 
 my own house I have the proof of it. I, your father, have 
 conjured you to give up all idea of marrying the grand- 
 daughter of that old fool, the Marchioness d'Arlange. 
 And all to no purpose ; for I have at last been obliged to 
 yield to your wishes." 
 
 " Father " Albert commenced. 
 
 "It is well," interrupted the count. "You have my 
 word ; but remember my prediction : you will strike a fatal 
 blow at our house. You will be one of the largest pro- 
 prietors in France ; but have half a dozen children, and 
 they will be hardly rich. If they also have as many, you 
 will probably see your grandchildren in poverty ! " 
 
 " You put all at the worst, father." 
 
 " Without doubt : it is the only means of pointing out the 
 danger, and averting the evil. You talk of your life's 
 happiness. What is that? A true noble thinks of his 
 name above all. Mademoiselle d'Arlange is very pretty, 
 and very attractive ; but she is penniless. I had found an 
 heiress for you." 
 
 " Whom I should never love ! " 
 
 " And what of that ? She would have brought you four 
 millions in her apron, more than the kings of to-day give 
 their daughters. Besides which she had great expecta- 
 tions." 
 
 The discussion upon this subject would have been in- 
 terminable, had Albert taken an active share in it ; but his 
 thoughts were far away. He answered from time to time 
 so as not to appear absolutely dumb, and then only a few 
 syllables. This absence of opposition was more irritating 
 
126 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 to the count than the most obstinate contradiction. He 
 therefore directed his utmost efforts to excite his son to 
 argue. However he was vainly prodigal of words, and 
 unsparing in unpleasant allusions, so that at last he fairly 
 lost his temper, and, on receiving a laconic reply, he burst 
 forth : " Upon my word, the butler's son would say the 
 same as you ! What blood have you in your veins ? You 
 are more like one of the people than a Viscount de 
 Commarin ! " 
 
 There are certain conditions of mind in which the least 
 conversation jars upon the nerves. During the last hour, 
 Albert had suffered an intolerable punishment. The 
 patience with which he had armed himself at last escaped 
 him. " Well, sir," he answered, " if I resemble one of the 
 people, there are perhaps good reasons for it." 
 
 The glance with which the viscount accompanied his 
 speech was so expressive that the count experienced a 
 sudden shock. All his animation forsook him, and in a 
 hesitating voice, he asked : " What is that you say, vis- 
 count ? " 
 
 Albert had no sooner uttered the sentence than he re- 
 gretted his precipitation , but he had gone too far to stop. 
 
 " Sir," he replied with some embarrassment, " I have to 
 acquaint you with some important matters. My honour, 
 yours, the honour of our house, are involved. I intended 
 postponing this conversation till to-morrow, not desiring 
 to trouble you on the evening of your return. However, as 
 you wish me to explain, I will do so." 
 
 The count listened with ill-concealed anxiety. He 
 seemed to have divined what his son was about to say, and 
 was terrified at himself for having divined it. 
 
 "Believe me, sir," continued Albert slowly, "whatever 
 may have been your acts, my voice will never be raised to 
 reproach you. Your constant kindness to me " 
 
 M. de Commarin held up his hand. "A trace to pre- 
 ambles ; let me have the facts without phrases," said he 
 sternly. 
 
 Albert was some time without answering ,' he hesitated 
 how to commence. " Sir," said he at length, " during your 
 absence, I have read all your correspondence with Madame 
 Gerdy. All!" added he, emphasising the word, already 
 so significant. 
 
 The count, as thoiigh stung by a serpent, started up 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 127 
 
 with such violence that he overturned his chair. " Not 
 another word ! " cried he in a terrible voice. " I forbid 
 you to speak ! " But he no doubt soon felt ashamed of his 
 violence, for he quietly raised his chair, and resumed in a 
 tone which he strove ta render light and rallying : " Who 
 will hereafter refuse to believe in presentiments ? A 
 couple of hours ago, on seeing your pale face at the rail- 
 way station, I felt that you had learned more or less of 
 this affair. I was sure of it." There was a long silence. 
 With one accord, father and son avoided letting their eyes 
 meet, lest they might encounter glances too eloquent to 
 bear at so painful a moment. " You were right, sir," con- 
 tinued the count, " our honour is involved. It is im- 
 portant that we should decide on our future conduct with- 
 out delay. Will you follow me to my room ? " He rang 
 the bell, and a footman appeared almost immediately. 
 " Neither the viscount nor I am at home to any one," said 
 M. de Commarin, "no matter whom." 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE revelation which had just taken place, irritated 
 much more than it surprised ihe Count de Commarin. 
 For twenty years, he had been- constantly expecting to see 
 the truth brought to light. He knew that there can be no 
 secret so carefully guarded that it may not by some chance 
 escape ; and his had been known to four people, three of 
 whom were still living. He had not forgotten that he had 
 been imprudent enough to trust it to paper, knowing all 
 the while that it ought never to have been written. How 
 was it that he, a prudent diplomat, a statesman, full of 
 precaution, had been so foolish ? How was it that he had 
 allowed this fatal correspondence to remain in existence ! 
 Why had he not destroyed, at no matter what cost, these 
 overwhelming proofs, which sooner or later might be used 
 against him ? Such imprudence could only have arisen 
 from an absurd passion, blind and insensible, even to mad- 
 ness. So long as he was Valerie's lover, the count never 
 thought of asking the return of his letters from his beloved 
 accomplice. If the idea had occurred to him, he would 
 have repelled it as an insult to the character of his angel, 
 reason could he have had to suspect her discretion ? 
 
128 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 None. He would have been much more likely to have 
 supposed her desirous of removing every trace, even the 
 slighted, of what had taken place. Was it not her son 
 who had received the benefits of the deed, who had usurped 
 another's name and fortune ? When eight years after, 
 believing her to be unfaithful, the count had put an end 
 to the connection which had given him so much happiness, 
 he thought of obtaining possession of this unhappy cor- 
 respondence. But he knew not how to do so. A thou- 
 sand reasons prevented his moving in the matter. The 
 principal one was, that he did not wish to see this woman 
 once so dearly loved. He did not feel sufficiently sure 
 either of his anger or of his firmness. Could he, without 
 yielding, resist the tearful pleading of those eyes, which 
 had so long held complete sway over him ? To look 
 again upon this mistress of his youth would, he feared, 
 result in his forgiving her ; and he had been too cruelly 
 wounded in his pride and in his affection to admit the idea 
 of a reconciliation. On the other hand, to obtain the 
 letters though a third party was entirely out of the ques- 
 tion. He abstained, then, from all action, postponing it 
 indefinitely. " I will go to her," said he to himself ; " but 
 not until I have so torn her from my heart that she will 
 have become indifferent to me. I will not gratify her with 
 the sight of my grief." So months and years passed on ; 
 and finally he began to say and believe that it was too late. 
 And for now more than twenty years, he had never passed 
 a day without cursing his inexcusable folly. Never had he 
 been able to forget that above his head a danger more 
 terrible than the sword of Damocles hung, suspended by a 
 thread, which the slightest accident might break. And 
 now that thread, had broken. Often, when considering 
 the possibility of such a catastrophe, he had asked him- 
 self how he should avert it ? He had formed and rejected 
 many plans : he had deluded himself, like all men of im- 
 agination, with innumerable chimerical projects, and now 
 he found himself quite unprepared. 
 
 Albert stood respectfully, while his father sat in his great 
 armorial chair, just beneath the large frame in which the 
 genealogical tree of the illustrious family of Rheteau de 
 Commarin spread its luxuriant branches. The old gentle- 
 man completely concealed the cruel apprehensions which 
 oppressed him. He seemed neither irritated nor dejected; 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 129 
 
 but his eyes expressed a haughtiness more than usually 
 disdainful, and a self-reliance full of contempt. " Now, 
 viscount." he began in a firm voice, " explain yourself. I 
 need say nothing to you of the position of a father, obliged 
 to blush before his son ; you understand it, and will feel 
 for me. Let us spare each other, and try to be calm. Tell 
 me, how did you obtain your knowledge of this correspon- 
 dence ? " 
 
 Albert had had time to recover himself, and prepare for 
 the present struggle, as he had impatiently waited four 
 days for this interview. The difficulty he experienced in 
 uttering the first words had now given place to a dignified 
 and proud demeanor. He expressed himself clearly and 
 forcibly, without losing himself in those details which in 
 serious matters needlessly defer the real point at issue. 
 " Sir," he replied, " on Sunday morning, a young man 
 called here, stating that he had business with me of the 
 utmost importance. I received him. He then revealed to 
 me that I, alas ! am only your natural son, substituted, 
 through your affection, for the legitimate child borne you 
 by Madame de Commarin." 
 
 " And did you not have this man kicked out of doors ? " 
 exclaimed the count. 
 
 " No, sir. I was about to answer him very sharply, of 
 course ; but, presenting me with a packet of letters, he 
 begged me to read them before replying." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried M. de Commarin, " you should have thrown 
 them into the fire, for there was a fire, I suppose ? You 
 held them in your hands ; and they still exist ! Why was I 
 not there ? " 
 
 " Sir ! " said Albert, reproachfully. And, recalling the 
 position Noel had occupied against the mantelpiece, and 
 the manner in which he stood, he added, " Even if the 
 thought had occurred to me, it was impracticable. Besides, 
 at the first glance, I recognised your handwriting. I there- 
 fore took the letters, and read them." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " And then, sir, I returned the correspondence to the 
 young man, and asked for a delay of eight days ; not to 
 think over it myself there was no need of that, but 
 because I judged an interview with you indispensable. 
 Now, therefore, I beseech you, tell me whether this substi- 
 tution really did take place." 
 
130 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 " Certainly it did," replied the count violently, " yes, cer- 
 tainly. You know that it did, for you have read what I 
 wrote to Madame Gerdy, your mother." 
 
 Albert had foreseen, had expected this reply ; but it 
 crushed him nevertheless. There are misfortunes so great, 
 that one must constantly think of them to believe in their 
 existence. This flinching, however, lasted but an instant. 
 " Pardon me, sir," he replied. " I was almost convinced ; 
 but I had not received a formal assurance of it. All the 
 letters that I read spoke distinctly of your purpose, detailed 
 your plan minutely ; but not one pointed to, or in any way 
 confirmed, the execution of your project." 
 
 The count gazed at his son with a look of intense sur- 
 prise. He recollected distinctly all the letters; and he 
 could remember, that, in writing to Valerie, he had over 
 and over again rejoiced at their success, thanking her for 
 having acted in accordance with his wishes. " You did 
 not go to the end of them, then, viscount," he said, " you 
 did not read them all ? " 
 
 " Every line, sir, and with an attention that you may well 
 understand. The last letter shown me simply announced 
 to Madame Gerdy the arrival of Claudine Lerouge, the 
 nurse who was charged with accomplishing the substitution. 
 I know nothing beyond that." 
 
 " These proofs amount to nothing," muttered the count. 
 " A man may form a plan, cherish it for a long time, and 
 at the last moment abandon it ; it often happens so." He 
 reproached himself for having answered so hastily. Albert 
 had had only serious suspicions, and he had changed them 
 to certainty. What stupidity ! " There can be no possible 
 doubt," he said to himself ; " Valerie has destroyed the 
 most conclusive letters, those which appeared to her the 
 most dangerous, those I wrote after the substitution. But 
 why has she preserved these others, compromising enough 
 in themselves ? and why, after having preserved them, has 
 she let them go out of her possession ? " 
 
 Without moving, Albert awaited a word from the count. 
 What would it be ? No doubt, the old nobleman was at 
 that moment deciding what he should do. 
 
 " Perhaps she is dead ! " said M. de Commarin aloud. 
 And at the thought that Valerie was dead, without his 
 having again seen her, he started painfully. His heart, 
 after more than twenty years of voluntary separation, stil/ 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. iji 
 
 suffered, so deeply rooted was this first love of his youth. 
 He had cursed her; at this moment he pardoned her. 
 True, she had deceived him ; but did he not owe to her 
 the only years of happiness he had ever known ? Had 
 she not formed all the poetry of his youth ? Had he ex- 
 perienced, since leaving her, one single hour of joy or for- 
 getfulness ? In his present frame of mind, his heart re- 
 tained only happy memories, like a vase which, once filled 
 with precious perfumes, retains the odour until it is de- 
 stroyed. " Poor woman ! " he murmured. 
 
 He sighed deeply. Three or four times his eyelids trem- 
 bled, as if a tear were about to fall. Albert watched him 
 with anxious curiosity. This was the first time since the 
 viscount had grown to man's estate that he had surprised 
 in his father's countenance other emotion than ambition 
 or pride, triumphant or defeated. But M. de Commarin 
 was not the man to yield long to sentiment. "You have 
 not told me, viscount," he said, " who sent you that mes- 
 senger of misfortune." 
 
 " He came in person, sir, not wishing, he told me, to 
 mix any others up in this sad affair. The young man was 
 no other than he whose place I have occupied, your legit- 
 imate son, M. Noel Gerdy himself." 
 
 " Yes," said the count in a low tone, " Noel, that is his 
 name, I remember." And then, with evident hesitation, 
 he added : " Did he speak to you of his of your mother ? " 
 
 " Scarcely, sir. He only told me that he came unknown 
 to her ; that he had accidentally discovered the secret 
 which he revealed to me." 
 
 M. de Commarin asked nothing further. There was 
 more for him to learn. He remained for some time deep 
 in thought. The decisive moment had come ; and he saw 
 but one way to escape. " Come, viscount," he said, in a 
 tone so affectionate that Albert was astonished, " do not 
 stand ; sit down here by me, and let us discuss this matter. 
 Let us unite our efforts to shun, if possible, this great mis- 
 fortune. Confide in me, as a son should in his father. 
 Have you thought of what is to be done ? have you formed 
 any determination ? " 
 
 " It seems to me, sir, that hesitation is impossible." 
 
 " In what way ? " 
 
 " My duty, father, is very plain. Before your legitimate 
 son, I ought to give way without a murmur, if not without 
 
132 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 regret. Let him come. I am ready to yield to him every- 
 thing that I have so long kept from him without a suspicion 
 of the truth his father's love, his fortune and his name. 51 
 
 At this most praiseworthy reply, the old nobleman could 
 scarcely preserve the calmness he had recommended to 
 his son in the earlier part of the interview. His face grew 
 purple ; and he struck the table with his fist more furiously 
 than he had ever done in his life. He, usually so guard- 
 ed, so decorous on all occasions, uttered a volley of oaths 
 that would not have done discredit to an old cavalry officer. 
 "And I tell you, sir, that this dream of yours shall never 
 take place. No ; that it sha'n't. I swear it. I promise 
 you, whatever happens, understand, that things shall re- 
 main as they are ; because it is my will. You are. Vis- 
 count de Commarin, and Viscount de Commarin you shall 
 remain, in spite of yourself, if necessary. You shall retain 
 the title to your death, or at least to mine ; for never, while 
 I live, shall your absurd idea be carried out." 
 
 " But, sir," began Albert, timidly. 
 
 " You are very daring to interrupt me while I am speak- 
 ing, sir," exclaimed the count. " Do I not know all your 
 objections beforehand ? You are going to tell me that it 
 is a revolting injustice, a wicked robbery. I confess it, 
 and grieve over it more than you possibly can. Do you 
 think that I now for the first time repent of my youlhful 
 folly ? For twenty years, sir, I have lamented my true son ; 
 for twenty years I have cursed the wickedness of which 
 he is the victim. And yet I learnt how to keep silence, 
 and to hide the sorrow and remorse which have covered 
 my pillow with thorns. In a single instant, your sense- 
 less yielding would render my long sufferings of no avail. 
 No, I will never permit it ! " The count read a reply 
 on his son's lips : he stopped him with a withering glance. 
 " Do you think," he continued, " that I have never wept 
 over the thought of my legitimate son passing his life 
 struggling for a competence ? Do you think that I have 
 never felt a burning desire to repair the wrong done him ? 
 There have been times, sir, when I would have given half 
 of my fortune simply to embrace that child of a wife too 
 tardily appreciated. The fear of casting a shadow of sus- 
 picion upon your birth prevented me. I have sacrificed 
 myself to the great name I bear. I received it from my 
 ancestors without a stain. Mav you hand it down to vour 
 
77fE LEROUGE CASE. . 133 
 
 children equally spotless ! Your first impulse was a worthy 
 one, generous and noble ; but you must forget it. Think 
 of the scandal, if our secret should be disclosed to the 
 public gaze. Can you not foresee the joy of our enemies, 
 of that herd of upstarts which surrounds us ? I shudder 
 at the thought of the odium and the ridicule which would 
 cling to our name. Too many families already have stains 
 upon their escutcheons ; I will have none on mine." 
 
 M. de Commarin remained silent for several minutes, 
 during which Albert did not dare say a word, so much had 
 he been accustomed since infancy to respect the least wish 
 of the terrible old gentleman. " There is no possible way 
 out of it," continued the count. " Can I discard you to-mor- 
 row, and present this Noel as my son, saying, ' Excuse me, 
 but there has been a slight mistake ; this one is the vis- 
 count ? ' And then the tribunals will get hold of it. What 
 does it matter who is named Benoit, Durand, or Bernard? 
 But, when one is called Commarin, even but for a single 
 day, one must retain that name through life. The same 
 moral does not do for everyone ; because we have not the 
 same duties to perform. In our position, errors are irre- 
 parable. Take courage, then, and show yourself worthy of 
 the name you bear. The storm is upon you ; raise your 
 head to meet it." Albert's impassibility contributed not 
 a little to increase M. de Commarin's irritation. Firm in 
 an unchangeable resolution, the viscount listened like one 
 fulfilling a duty : and his face reflected no emotion. The 
 count saw that he was not shaken. " What have you to 
 reply ? " he asked. 
 
 " It seems to me sir, that you have no idea of all the 
 dangers which I foresee. It is difficult to master the revolts 
 of conscience." 
 
 " Indeed !" interrupted the count contemptuously ; " your 
 conscience revolts, does it ? It has chosen its time badly. 
 Your scruples come too late. So long as you saw that 
 your inheritance consisted of an illustrious title and a 
 dozen or so of millions, it pleased you. To-day the name 
 appears to you laden with a heavy fault, a crime, if you 
 will ; and your conscience revolts. Renounce this folly. 
 Children, sir, are accountable to their fathers ; and they 
 should obey them. Willing or unwilling, you must be my 
 accomplice ; willing or unwilling, you must bear the bur- 
 den, as I have borne it. And, however much you ma> 
 
134 THE LEROUGE CAS/:. 
 
 suffer, be assured your sufferings can never approach what 
 I have endured for so many years." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! " cried Albert, '* it is then I, the dispossessor, 
 who has made this trouble ? is it not, on the contrary, the 
 dispossessed ! It is not 1 who you have to convince, it is 
 M. Noel Gerdy." 
 
 " Noel ! " repeated the count. 
 
 " Your legitimate son, yes, sir. You act as if the issue 
 of this unhappy affair depended solely upon my will. Do 
 you then, imagine that M. Gerdy will be so easily disposed 
 of, so easily silenced ? And, if he should raise his voice, 
 do you hope to move him by the considerations you have 
 just mentioned ? " 
 
 " I do not fear him." 
 
 "Then you are wrong, sir, permit me to tell you. Sup- 
 pose for a moment that this young man has a soul suffi- 
 ciently noble to relinquish his claim upon your rank and 
 your fortune. Is there not now the accumulated rancour 
 of years to urge him to oppose you ? He cannot help feel- 
 ing a fierce resentment for the horrible injustice of which 
 he has been the victim. He must passionately long for 
 vengeance, or rather reparation." 
 
 " He has no proofs." 
 
 " He has your letters, sir." 
 
 "They are not decisive, you yourself have told me so." 
 
 " That is true, sir ; and yet they convinced me, who have 
 an interest in not being convinced. Besides, if he needs 
 witnesses, he will find them." 
 
 " Who? Yourself, viscount ? " 
 
 "Yourself, sir. The day when he wishes it, you will 
 betray us. Suppose you were summoned before a tribu- 
 nal, and that there, under oath, you should be required to 
 speak the truth, what answer would you make ? " 
 
 M. de Commarin's face darkened at this very natural 
 supposition. He hesitated, he whose honour was usually 
 so great. " I would save the name of my ancestors," he 
 said at last. 
 
 Albert shook his head doubtfully. " At the price of a lie, 
 my father," he said. " I never will believe it. But let us 
 suppose even that. He will then call Madame Gerdy." 
 
 " Oh, I will answer for her ! " cried the count, " her inter- 
 ests are the same as ours. If necessary, I will see her. 
 Yes," he added with an effort, " I will call on her, I will 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 135 
 
 speak to her; and I will guarantee that she will not be- 
 tray us." 
 
 " And Claudine," continued the young man ; " will she 
 be silent, too ? " 
 
 " For money, yes ; and I will give her whatever she 
 asks." 
 
 "And you would trust, father, to a paid silence, as if 
 one could ever be sure of a purchased conscience ? What 
 is sold to you may be sold to another. A certain sum 
 may close her mouth ; a larger will open it." 
 
 " I will frighten her." 
 
 " You forget, father, that Claudine Lerouge was Noel 
 Gerdy's nurse, that she takes an interest in his happiness, 
 that she loves him. How do you know that he has not 
 already secured her aid ? She lives at Bougival. I went 
 there, I remember, with you. No doubt, he sees her often ; 
 perhaps it is she who put him on the track of this corres- 
 pondence. He spoke to me of her, as though he were 
 sure of her testimony. He almost proposed my 'going to 
 her for information." 
 
 "Alas!" cried the count, "why is not Claudine dead 
 instead of my faithful Germain ? " 
 
 "You see, sir," concluded Albert, "Claudine Lerouge 
 would alone render all your efforts useless." 
 
 " Ah, no ! " cried the count ; " I shall find some expe- 
 dient." The obstinate old gentleman was not willing to 
 give in to this argument, the very clearness of which blinded 
 him. The pride of his blood paralyzed his usual practical 
 good sense. To acknowledge that he was conquered humil- 
 iated him, and seemed to him unworthy of himself. He did 
 not remember to have met during his long career an invinci- 
 ble resistance or an absolute impediment. He was like 
 all men of imagination, who fall in love with their projects, 
 and who expect them to succeed on all occasions, as if 
 wishing hard was all that was necessary to change their 
 dreams into realities." 
 
 Albert this time broke the silence, which threatened to 
 be prolonged. " I see, sir," he said, " that you fear, above 
 all things, the publicity of this sad history; the possible 
 scandal renders you desperate. But, unless we yield, the 
 scandal will be terrible. There will be a trial which will 
 be the talk of all Europe. The newspapers will print the 
 facts, accompanied by heavens knows what comments of 
 
136 THE LEROUCE CASE. 
 
 their own. Our name, however the trial results, will 
 appear in all the papers of the world. This might be 
 borne, if we were sure of succeeding ; but we are bound 
 to lose, my father, we shall lose. Then think of the 
 exposure ! think of the dishonor branded upon us by pub- 
 lic opinion." 
 
 " I think," said the count, " that you can have neither 
 respect nor affection for me, when you speak in that 
 way." 
 
 " It is my duty, sir, to point out to you the evils I see 
 threatening, and which there is yet time to shun. M. Noel 
 Gerdy is your legitimate son, recognize him, acknowledge 
 his just pretensions, and receive him. We can make the 
 change very quietly. It is easy to account for it, through 
 a mistake of the nurse, Claudine Lerouge, for instance. 
 All parties being agreeable, there can be no trouble about 
 it. What is to prevent the new Viscount de Commarin 
 from quitting Paris, and disappearing for a time ? He 
 might travel about Europe for four or five years ; by the 
 end of that time, all will be forgotten, and no one will 
 remember me." 
 
 M. de Commarin was not listening ; he was deep in 
 thought. " But instead of contesting, viscount," he cried, 
 " we might compromise. We may be able to purchase 
 these letters. What does this young fellow want ? A 
 position and a fortune ? I will give him both. I will 
 make him as rich as he can wish. I will give him a mil- 
 lion ; if need be, two, three, half of all I possess. With 
 money, you see, much money " 
 
 " Spare him, sir ; he is your son." 
 
 " Unfortunately ! and I wish him to the devil ! I will 
 see him, and he will agree to what I wish. I will prove to 
 him the bad policy of the earthen pot struggling with the 
 iron kettle ; and, if he is not a fool, he will understand. 
 The count rubbed his hands while speaking. He was 
 delighted with this brilliant plan of negotiation. It could 
 not fail to result favorably. A crowd of arguments 
 occurred to his mind in support of it. He would buy 
 back again his lost rest. 
 
 But Albert did not seem to share his father's hopes. 
 " You will perhaps think it unkind in me, sir," said he, 
 sadly, " to dispel this last illusion of yours ; but I must. 
 Do not delude yourself with the idea of an amicable 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 13-, 
 
 arrangement ; the awakening will only be the more pain- 
 ful. I have seen M. Gerdy, my father, and he is not one, 
 I assure you, to be intimidated. If there is an energetic 
 will in the world, it is his. He is truly your son ; and his 
 expression, like yours, shows an iron resolution, that may 
 be broken but never bent. I can still hear his voice 
 trembling with resentment, while he spoke to me. I can 
 still see the dark fire of his eyes. No, he will never 
 accept a compromise. He will have all or nothing ; and 
 I cannot say that he is wrong. If you resist, he will 
 attack you without the slightest consideration. Strong in 
 his rights, he will cling to you with stubborn animosity. 
 He will drag you from court to court; he will not stop 
 short of utter defeat or complete triumph." 
 
 Accustomed to absolute obedience from his son, the old 
 nobleman was astounded at this unexpected obstinacy. 
 " What is your object in saying all this ? " he aske d. 
 
 " It is this, sir. I should utterly despise myself, if I did 
 not spare your old age this greatest of calamities. Your 
 name does not belong to me ; I will take my own. I am 
 your natural son ; I will give up my place to your legit- 
 imate son. Permit me to withdraw with at least the honor 
 of having freely done my duty. Do not force me to wait 
 till I am driven out in disgrace." 
 
 " What ! " cried the count, stunned, "you will abandon 
 me ? You refuse to help me, you turn against me, you 
 recognize the rights of this man in spite of my wishes ? " 
 
 Albert bowed his head. He was much moved, but still 
 remained firm. " My resolution is irrevocably taken," he 
 replied. " I can never consent to despoil your son." 
 
 " Cruel, ungrateful boy ! " cried M. de Commarin. His 
 wrath was such, that, when he found he could do nothing by 
 abuse, he passed at once to jeering. " But no," he con- 
 tinued, " you are great, you are noble, you are generous ; 
 you are acting after the most approved pattern of chivalry, 
 viscount, I should say, my dear M. Gerdy ; after the 
 fashion of Plutarch's time ! So you give up my name 
 and my fortune, and you leave me. You will shake the 
 dust from your shoes upon x the threshold of my house, 
 and you will go out into the world. I see only one diffi- 
 culty in your way. How do you expect to live, my stoic 
 philosopher ? Have you a trade at your fingers' ends, like 
 Jean Jacques Rousseau's Emile ? Or, worthy M. Gercl 1 . 
 
/j8 THE LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 have you learned economy from the four thousand francs 
 a month I allow you for waxing your moustache ? Per- 
 haps you have made money on the Bourse ! Then my 
 name must have seemed very burdensome to you to bear, 
 since you so eagerly introduced it into such a place ! 
 Has dirt, then, so great an attraction for you that you 
 must jump from your carriage so quickly ? Say, rather, 
 that the company of my friends embarrasses you, and 
 that you are anxious to go where you will be among your 
 own equals." 
 
 " I am very wretched, sir," replied Albert to this ava- 
 lanche of insults, " and you would crush me ! " 
 
 " You wretched ! Well, whose fault is it ? But let us 
 get back to my question. How and on what will you 
 live?" 
 
 " I am not so romantic as you are pleased to say, sir. 
 I must confess that, as regards the future, I have counted 
 upon your kindness. You are so rich, that five hundred 
 thousand francs would not materially affect your fortune ; 
 and, on the interest of that sum, I could live quietly, if 
 not happily." 
 
 " And suppose I refuse you this money ? " 
 
 " I know vou well enough, sir, to feel sure that you 
 will not do so. You are too just to wish that I alone 
 should expiate wrongs that are not of my making. Left 
 to myself, I should at my present age have achieved a po- 
 sition. It is late for me to try and make one now ; but I 
 will do my best." 
 
 " Superb ! " interrupted the count ; " you are really su- 
 perb ! One never heard of such a hero of romance. 
 What a character ! But tell me, what do you expect from 
 all this astonishing disinterestedness ? " 
 
 " Nothing, sir." 
 
 The count shrugged his shoulders, looked sarcastically 
 at his son, and observed : " The compensation is very 
 slight. And you expect me to believe all this ! No, sir, 
 mankind is not in the habit of indulging in such fine 
 actions .for its pleasure alone. You must have some 
 reason for acting so grandly; some reason which I fail 
 to see." 
 
 " None but what I have already told you." 
 
 " Therefore it is understood you intend to relinquish 
 everything ; you will even abandon your proposed union 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 139 
 
 with Mademoiselle Claire d'Arlange ? You forget that 
 for two years I have in vain constantly expressed my 
 disappointment of this marriage." 
 
 " No, sir. I have seen Mademoiselle Claire ; I have 
 explained my unhappy position to her. Whatever hap- 
 pens, she has sworn to be my wife." 
 
 "And do you think that Madame d'Arlange will give 
 her grand-daughter to M. Gerdy ? " 
 
 " We hope so, sir. The marchioness is sufficently in- 
 fected with aristocratic ideas to prefer a nobleman's 
 bastard to the son of some honest tradesman ; but should 
 she refuse, we would await her death, though without de- 
 siring it." 
 
 The calm manner in which Albert said this enraged 
 the count. " Can this be my son ? " he cried. " Never ! 
 What blood have you then in your veins, sir ? Your wor- 
 thy mother alone might tell us, provided, however, she 
 herself knows." 
 
 " Sir," cried Albert menacingly, " think well before you 
 speak ! She is my mother, and that is sufficient. I am 
 her son, not her judge. No one shall insult her in my 
 presence, I will not permit it, sir ; and I will suffer it least 
 of all from you." 
 
 The count made great efforts to keep his anger within 
 bounds; but Albert's behavior thoroughly enraged him. 
 What, his son rebelled, he dared to brave him to his face, 
 he threatened him ! The old fellow jumped from his chair, 
 and moved towards the young man as if he would strike 
 him. " Leave the room," he cried, in a voice choking 
 with rage, " leave the room instantly ! Retire to your apart- 
 ments, and take care not to leave them without my orders. 
 To-morrow I will let you know my decision." 
 
 Albert bowed respectfully, but without lowering his eyes 
 and walked slowly to the door. He had already opened 
 it, when M. de Commarin experienced one of those revul- 
 sions of feeling, so frequent in violent natures. " Albert," 
 said he, " come here and listen to me." The young man 
 turned back, much affected by this change. " Do not go," 
 continued the count, " until I have told you what I think. 
 You are worthy of being the heir of a great house, sir. I 
 may be angry with you ; but I can never lose my esteem 
 for you. You are a noble man, Albert. Give me youi 
 hand." 
 
140 . TJIK LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 It was a happy moment for these two men, and such a 
 one as they had scarcely ever experienced in their lives, 
 restrained as they had been by cold etiquette. The count 
 felt proud of his son, and recognised in him himself at 
 that age. For a long time their hands remained clasped, 
 without either being able to utter a word. At last, M. de 
 Commarin resumed his seat. " I must ask you to leave 
 me, Albert," he said kindly. " I must be alone to reflect, 
 to try and accustom myself to this terrible blow." And, 
 as the young man closed the door, he added, as if giving 
 vent to his inmost thoughts, " If he, in whom I have placed 
 all my hope, deserts me, what will become of me ? And 
 what will the other one be like ? " 
 
 On leaving M. de Commarin, and while slowly mounting 
 the stairs which led to his 'apartments, Albert's thoughts 
 reverted to Claire. What was she doing at that moment ? 
 Thinking of him no doubt. She knew that the crisis would 
 come that very evening, or the next day at the latest. 
 She was probably praying. Albert was thoroughly ex- 
 hausted ; his head felt dizzy, and seemed ready to burst. 
 He rang for his servant, and ordered some tea. 
 
 " You do wrong in not sending for the doctor, sir," said 
 Lubin, his valet. " I ought to disobey you, and, send for 
 him myself." 
 
 " It would be useless," replied Albert sadly ; " he could 
 do nothing for me." As the valet was leaving the room, 
 he added, " Say nothing about my being unwell to any 
 one, Lubin ; it is nothing at all. If I should feel worse, I 
 will ring." 
 
 At that moment, to see any one, to hear a voice, to have 
 to reply, was more than he could bear. He longed to be 
 left entirely to himself. After the painful emotions arising 
 from his explanations with the count, he could not sleep. 
 He opened one of the library windows, and looked out. 
 It was a beautiful night : and there was a lovely moon. 
 Seen at this hour, by the mild, tremulous evening light, 
 the gardens attached to the mansion seemed twice their 
 usual size. The moving tops of the great trees stretched 
 away like an immense plain, hiding the neighbouring 
 houses ; the flower-beds, set off by the green shrubs, 
 looked like great black patches, while particles of shell, 
 tiny pieces of glass, and shining pebbles sparkled in the 
 carefully kept walks. The horses stamped in the stable ' 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. i.|i 
 
 and the rattling of their halter chains against the bars of 
 the manger could be distinctly heard. In the coach-house 
 the men were putting away for the night the carriage, al- 
 ways kept ready throughout the evening, in case the count 
 should wish to go out. Albert was reminded by these sur- 
 roundings, of the magnificence of his past life. He sighed 
 deeply. " Must I, then, lose all this ? " he murmured. " I 
 can scarcely, even for myself, abandon so much splendour 
 without regret ; and thinking of Claire makes it hard in- 
 deed. Have I not dreamed of a life of exceptional happi- 
 ness for her, a result almost impossible to realise without 
 wealth?" Midnight sounded from the neighbouring 
 church of St. Clotilde, and as the night was chilly, he 
 closed the window, and sat down near the fire, which he 
 stirred. In the hope of obtaining a respite from his 
 thoughts, he took up the evening paper, in which was an 
 account of the assassination at La Jonchere ; b-ut he found 
 il impossible to read: the lines danced before his eyes. 
 Then he thought of writing to Claire. He sat down at his 
 desk, and wrote, " My dearly loved Claire," but he could 
 go no further ; his distracted brain could not furnish him 
 with a single sentence. At last, at break of day, he threw 
 himself on to a sofa, and fell into a heavy sleep. 
 
 At half-past nine in the morning, he was suddenly 
 awakened, by the noise of the door being hastily opened. 
 A servant entered, with a scared look on his face, and so 
 out of breath from having come up the stairs four at a 
 time, that he could scarcely speak. " Sir," said he, 
 " viscount, be quick, fly and hide, save yourself, they ae 
 here, it is the " 
 
 A commissary of police, wearing his sash, appeared at the 
 door. He was followed by a number of men, among whom 
 M. Tabaret could be seen, keeping as much out of sight as 
 possible. The commissary approached Albert. " You are," 
 he asked, " Guy Louis Marie Albert cle Rheteau de Com- 
 marin ? " 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The commissary placed his hand- upon him while pro- 
 nouncing the usual formula : " M. de Commarin, in the 
 name of the law I arrest you." 
 " Me, sir ? me ? " 
 
 Albert, aroused suddenly from his painful dreams, 
 seemed hardly to comprehend what was taking place. He 
 
142 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 seemed to ask himself, " Am I really awake ? Is not 
 this some hideous nightmare ? " 
 
 He threw a stupid, astonished look upon the commissar} 1 
 of police, his men, and M. Tabaret, who had not taken his 
 eyes off him. 
 
 " Here is the warrant," added the commissary, unfolding 
 the paper. 
 
 Mechanically Albert glanced over it. " Claudine 
 assassinated ! " he cried. Then very low, but distinct 
 enough to be heard by the commissary, by one of his offi- 
 cers, and by old Tabaret, he added, " I am lost ! " 
 
 While the commissary was making inquiries, which im- 
 mediately follow all arrests, the police officers spread 
 through the apartments, and proceeded to a searching ex- 
 amination of them. They had received orders to obey M. 
 Tabaret, and the old fellow guided them in their search, 
 made them ransack drawers and closets, and move the 
 furniture to look underneath or behind. They seized a 
 number of articles belonging to the viscount, documents, 
 manuscripts, and a very voluminous correspondence ; but 
 it was with especial delight that M. Tabaret put his hands 
 on certain articles, which were carefully described in their 
 proper order in the official report : i. In the ante-room, 
 hung with all sorts of weapons, a broken foil was found 
 behind a sofa. This foil has a peculiar handle, and is 
 unlike those commonly sold. It is ornamented with the 
 count's coronet, and the initials A. C. It has been broken 
 at about the middle ; and the end cannot be found. 
 When questioned, the viscount declared that he did not 
 know what had become of the missing end. 2. In the 
 dressing-room, a pair of black cloth trousers was discovered 
 still damp, and bearing stains of mud or rather of mould. 
 All one side is smeared with greenish moss, like that which 
 grows on walls. On the front are numerous rents ; and 
 one near the knee is about four inches long. These 
 trousers had not been hung up with the other clothes ;-but 
 appear to have been hidden between two large trunks full 
 of clothing. 3. In the pocket of the above mentioned 
 trousers was found a pair of lavender kid gloves. The 
 palm of the right hand glove bears a large greenish stain, 
 produced by grass or moss. The tips of the fingers have 
 been worn as if by rubbing. Upon the backs of both 
 gloves are some scratches, apparently made by finger-nails. 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 143 
 
 4. There were also found in the dressing-room two pairs 
 of boots, one of which, though clean and polished, was 
 still very damp ; and an umbrella recently wetted, the end 
 of which was still covered with a light coloured mud. 5. 
 In a large room, called the library, were found a box of ci- 
 gars of the trabucos brand, and on the mantel-shelf a num- 
 ber of cigar-holders in amber and meerschaum. 
 
 The last article noted down, M. Tabaret approached the 
 commissary of police. " I have everything I could desire," 
 he whispered. 
 
 " And I have finished," replied the commissary. " Our 
 prisoner does not appear to know exactly how to act. 
 You heard what he said. He gave in at once. I suppose 
 you will call it lack of experience." 
 
 " In the middle of the day," replied the amateur detec- 
 tive in a whisper, " he would not have been quite so crest- 
 fallen. But early in the morning, suddenly awakened, you 
 know Always arrest a person early in the morning, 
 when he's hungry, and only half awake." 
 
 " I have questioned some of the servants. Their evi- 
 dence is rather peculiar." 
 
 " Very well ; we shall see. But I must hurry off and 
 find the investigating magistrate, who is impatiently expect- 
 ing me." 
 
 Albert was beginning to recover a little from the stupor 
 into which he had been plunged by the entrance of the 
 commissary of police. 
 
 " Sir," he asked, " will you permit me to say a few words 
 in your presence to the Count de Commarin ? I am the 
 victim of some mistake, which will be very soon discov- 
 ered." 
 
 " It's always a mistake," muttered old Tabaret. 
 
 " What you ask is impossible," replied the commissary. 
 " I have special orders of the strictest sort. You must 
 not henceforth communicate with a living soul. A cab is 
 in waiting below. Have the goodness to accompany me 
 to it." 
 
 In crossing the vestibule, Albert noticed a great stir 
 among the servants ; they all seemed to have lost their 
 senses. M. Denis gave some orders in a sharp, imperative 
 tone. Then he thought he heard that the Count de Com 
 marin had been struck down with apoplexy. After that, he 
 remembered nothing. They almost carried him to the cab, 
 
144 THK I.KROUCK CASK. 
 
 which drove off as fast as the two little horses could go. 
 M. Tabaret had just hastened away in a more rapid 
 vehicle. 
 
 X. 
 
 M. DABURON had arrived at his office in the Palais de 
 Justice at nine o'clock in the morning, and was waiting. 
 His course resolved upon, he had not lost an instant, un- 
 derstanding as well as old Tabaret the necessity for rapid 
 action. He had already had an interview with the public 
 prosecutor, and had arranged everything with the police. 
 Besides issuing the warrant against Albert, he had sum- 
 moned the Count de Commarin, Madame Gerdy, Noel, 
 and some of Albert's servants, to appear before him with 
 as little delay as possible. He thought it essential to ques- 
 tion all these persons before examining the prisoner. 
 Several detectives had started off to execute his orders, 
 and he himself sat in his office, like a general command- 
 ing an army, who sends off his aid-de-camp to begin the 
 battle, and who hopes that victory will crown his combina- 
 tions. Often, at this same hour, he had sat in this office, 
 under circumstances almost identical. A crime had been 
 committed, and, believing he had discovered the criminal, 
 he had given orders for his arrest. Was not that his duty ? 
 But he had never before experienced the anxiety of mind 
 which disturbed him now. Many a time had he issued 
 warrants of arrest, without possessing even half the proofs 
 which guided him in the present case. He kept repeat- 
 ing this to himself ; and yet he could not quiet his dread- 
 ful anxiety, which would not allow him a moment's rest. 
 
 He wondered why his people were so long in making 
 their appearance. He walked up and down the room, 
 counting the minutes, drawing out his watch three times 
 within a quarter of an hour, to compare it with the clock. 
 Every time he heard a step in the passage, almost deserted 
 at that hour, he moved near the door, stopped and listened. 
 At length some one knocked. It was his clerk, whom he 
 had sent for. There was nothing particular in this man , 
 he was tall rather than big, and very slim. His gait was 
 precise, his gestures were methodical, and his face was as 
 impassive as if it had been cut out of a piece of yellow 
 wood. He was thirty-four years of age, and during thir- 
 
THE LEKOUGE CASE. 14$ 
 
 teen years had acted as clerk to four investigating magis- 
 trates in succession. He could hear the most astonishing 
 things without moving a muscle. His name was Constant. 
 He bowed to the magistrate, and excused himself for his 
 tardiness. He had been busy with some book-keeping, 
 which he did every morning ; and his wife had had to send 
 after him. 
 
 "You are still in good time," said M. Daburon: "but 
 we shall soon have plenty of work : so you had better get 
 your paper ready." 
 
 Five minutes later, the usher introduced M, Noel Gerdy. 
 He entered with an easy manner, like a barrister who was 
 well acquainted with the Palais, and who knew its winding 
 ways. He in no wise resembled, this morning, old Taba- 
 ret's friend ; still less could he have been recognized as 
 Madame Juliette's lover. He was entirely another being, 
 or rather he had resumed his eveiy-day bearing. From his 
 firm step, his placid face, one would never imagined that, 
 after an evening of emotion and excitement, after a secret 
 visit to his mistress, he had passed the night by the pillow 
 of a dying woman, and that woman his mother, or at least 
 one who had filled his mother's place. What a contrast 
 between him and the magistrate ! M. Daburon had not 
 slept either : but one could easily see that in his feebleness, 
 in his anxious look, in, the dark circles about his eyes. 
 His shirt-front was all rumpled, and his cuffs were far 
 from clean. Carried away by the course of events, the 
 mind had forgotten the body. NoeFs well-shaved chin, on 
 the contrary, rested upon an irreproachably white cravat ; 
 his collar did not show a crease ; his hair and his whiskers 
 had been most carefully brushed. He bowed tc M. Dabu- 
 ron, and held out the summons he had received. " You 
 summoned me, sir," he said ; " and I am here awaiting 
 your orders." 
 
 The investigating magistrate had met the young barris- 
 ter several times in the lobbies of the Palais , and he knew 
 him well by sight. He remembered having heard M. 
 Gerdy spoken of as a man of talent and promise, whose 
 reputation was fast rising. He therefore welcomed him 
 as a fellow-workman, and invited him to be seated. The 
 preliminaries common in the examinations of all witnesses 
 ended ; the name, surname, age, place of business, and so on 
 having been written down, the magistrate, who had follow 
 
 10 
 
146 THE LEROUUE CASE. 
 
 ed his clerk with his eyes while he . was. writing, turned 
 towards Noel. " I presume you know, M. Gerdy," he 
 began, " the matters in connection with which you are 
 troubled with appearing before me ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, the murder of that poor old woman at La 
 Jonchere." 
 
 " Precisely," replied M. Daburon. Then, calling to 
 mind his promise to old Tabaret, he added, " If justice has 
 summoned you so promptly, it is because we have found 
 your name often mentioned in Widow Lerouge's papers." 
 
 " I am not surprised at that," replied the barrister : " we 
 were greatly interested in that poor woman, who was my 
 nurse ; and I know that Madame Gerdy wrote to her fre- 
 quently." 
 
 " Very well ; then you can give ,m some information 
 about her." 
 
 " I fear, sir, that it will be very incomplete. I know 
 very little about this poor old Madame Lerouge. I was 
 taken from her at a very early age ; and, since I have 
 been a man, I have thought but little about her, except to 
 send her occasionally a little aid." 
 
 " You never went to visit her ? " 
 
 " Excuse me. I have gone there to see her many times ; 
 but I remained only a few minutes. Madame Gerdy, who 
 has often seen her, and to whom she talked of all her af- 
 fairs, could have enlightened you much better than I." 
 
 " But," said the magistrate, " I expect shortly to see 
 Madame Gerdy here ; she, too, must have received a sum- 
 mons." 
 
 " I know it, sir, but it is impossible for her to appear : 
 she is ill in bed." 
 
 " Seriously ? " 
 
 " So seriously that you will be obliged, I think, to give up 
 all hope of her testimony. She is attacked with a disease 
 which, m the words of my friend, Dr. Herve, never for- 
 gives. It is something like inflammation of the brain, if I 
 am not mistaken. It may be that her life will be saved; 
 but she will never recover her reason. If she does not 
 die, she will be insane." 
 
 M Daburon appeared greatly x r exed. " This is very 
 annoying," he muttered. " And you think, my dear sir, 
 that it will be impossible to obtain any information from 
 her?" 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 147 
 
 " It is useless even to hope for it. She has completely 
 lost her reason. She was, when I left her, in such a state 
 of utter prostration that I fear she can not live through the 
 day." 
 
 " And when was she attacked by this illness ? " 
 
 " Yesterday evening." 
 
 " Suddenly'? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; at least, apparently so, though I myself think 
 she has been unwell for the last three weeks at least. 
 Yesterday, however, on rising from dinner,after having eaten 
 but little, she took up a newspaper ; and, by a most unfortu- 
 nate hazard, her eyes fell exactly upon the lines which 
 gave an account of this crime. She at once uttered a 
 loud cry, fell back in her chair, and thence slipped to the 
 floor, murmuring, ' Oh, the unhappy man, the unhappy 
 man ! " 
 
 "The unhappy woman, you mean." 
 
 " No, sir. She uttered the words I have just repeated. 
 Evidently the exclamation did not refer to my poor nurse." 
 
 Upon this reply, so important and yet made in the most 
 unconscious tone, M. Daburon raised his eyes to the wit- 
 ness. The barrister lowered his head. " And then ? " 
 asked the magistrate, after a moment's silence, during 
 which he had taken a few notes. 
 
 " Those words, sir, were the last spoken by Madame 
 Gerdy. Assisted by our servant, I carried her to her bed. 
 The doctor was sent for ; and, since then, she has not re- 
 covered consciousness. The doctor " 
 
 " It is well," interrupted M. Daburon. " Let us leave 
 that for the present. Do you know, sir, whether Widow 
 Lerouge had any enemies ? " 
 
 " None that I know of, sir." 
 
 " She had no enemies? Well, now tell me, does there 
 exist to your knowledge any one having the least interest 
 in the death of this poor woman ? " 
 
 As he asked this question the investigating magistrate 
 kept his eyes fixed on Noel's, not wishing him to turn or 
 lower his head. The barrister started, and seemed deeply 
 moved. He was disconcerted ; he hesitated, as if a strug- 
 gle was going on within him. Finally, in a voice which was 
 by no means firm, he replied, " No, no one." 
 
 " Is that really true ? " asked the magistrate, looking at 
 him more searchingly. " You know no one whom this 
 
1 48 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 crime benefits, or whom it might benefit, absolutely no 
 one ? " 
 
 " I know only one thing, sir," replied Noel ; " and that is, 
 that, as far as I am concerned, it has caused me an irre- 
 parable injury." 
 
 "At last," thought M. Daburon, "we have got at the 
 letters ; and I have not betrayed poor old Tabaret. It 
 would be too bad to cause the least trouble to that zealous 
 and invaluable man." He then added aloud: "An injury 
 to you, my dear sir ? You will, I hope, explain yourself." 
 
 Noel's embarrassment, of which he had already given 
 some signs, reappeared much more marked. " I am aware, 
 sir," he replied, " that I owe justice not merely the truth, 
 but the whole truth ; but there are circumstances involved 
 so delicate that the conscience of a man of honour sees 
 danger in them. Besides, it is very hard to be obliged to 
 unveil such sad secrets, the revelation of which may some- 
 times " 
 
 M. Daburon interrupted with a gesture. Noel's sad 
 tone impressed him. Knowing, beforehand, what he was 
 about to hear, he felt for the young barrister. He turned 
 to his clerk. " Constant ! " said he in a peculiar tone. 
 This was evidently a signal ; for the tall clerk rose method- 
 ically, put his pen behind his ear, and went out in his 
 measured tread. 
 
 Noel appeared sensible of this kindness. His face ex- 
 pressed the strongest gratitude ; his look returned thanks. 
 " I am very much obliged to you, sir," he said with sup- 
 pressed warmth, " for your considerateness. What I have 
 to say is very painful ; but it will be scarcely an effort to 
 speak before you now." 
 
 " Fear nothing," replied the magistrate ; " I will only 
 retain of your deposition, my dear sir, what seems to me 
 absolutely indispensable." 
 
 " I feel scarcely master of myself, sir," began Noel ; " so 
 pray pardon my emotion. If any words escape me that 
 seem charged with bitterness, excuse them ; they will be 
 involuntary. Up to the past few days, I always believed 
 that I was the offspring of illicit love. My history is short. 
 I have been honourably ambitious ; I have worked hard. 
 He who has no name must make one, you know. I have 
 passed a quiet life, retired and austere, as people must, 
 who, starting at the foot of the ladder, wish to reach the 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 149 
 
 top. I worshipped her whom I believed to be my mother ; 
 and I felt convinced that she loved me in return. The 
 stain of my birth had some humiliations attached to it ; 
 but I despised them. Comparing my lot with that of so 
 many others, I felt that I had more than common advan- 
 tages. One day, Providence placed in my hands all the 
 letters which my father, the Count de Commarin, had 
 written to Madame Gerdy during the time she was his 
 mistress. On reading these letters, I was convinced that 
 I was not what I had hitherto believed myself to be, that 
 Madame Gerdy was not my mother ! " 
 
 And, without giving M. Daburon time to reply, he laid 
 before him the facts which, twelve hours before, he had 
 related to M. Tabaret. It was the same story, with the 
 same circumstances, the same abundance of precise and 
 conclusive details ; but the tone in which it was told was 
 entirely changed. When speaking to the old detective, 
 the young barrister had been emphatic and violent; but 
 now, in the presence of the investigating magistrate, he 
 restrained his vehement emotions. One might imagine 
 that he adapted his style to his auditors, wishing to pro- 
 duce the same effect on both, and using the method which 
 would best accomplish his purpose. To an ordinary mind 
 like M. Tabaret's he used the exaggeration of anger ; but 
 to a man of superior intelligence like M. Daburon, he em- 
 ployed the exaggeration of restraint. With the detective 
 he had rebelled against his unjust lot ; but with the magis- 
 trate he seemed to bow, full of resignation, before a blind 
 fatality. With genuine eloquence and rare facility of ex- 
 pression, he related his feelings on the day following the 
 discovery, his grief, his perplexity, his doubts. To sup- 
 port this moral certainty, some positive testimony was 
 needed. Could he hope for this from the count or from 
 Madame Gerdy, both interested in concealing the truth ? 
 No. But he had counted upon that of his nurse, the 
 poor old woman who loved him, and who, near the close 
 of her life, would be glad to free her conscience from this 
 heavy load. She was dead now ; and the letters became 
 mere waste paper in his hands. Then he passed on to his 
 explanation with Madame Gerdy, and he gave the magis- 
 trate even fuller details than he had given his old neigh- 
 bour. She had, he said, at first utterly denied the substi- 
 tution, but he insinuated that, plied with questions, and 
 
150 TlIK I. E ROUGE CASE. 
 
 overcome by the evidence, she had, in a moment of despair, 
 confessed all, declaring, soon after, that she would retract 
 and deny this confession, being resolved at all hazards 
 that her son should preserve his position. From this 
 scene, in the barrister's judgment, might be dated the 
 first attacks of the illness, to which she was now succumb- 
 ing. Noel then described his interview with the Viscount 
 de Commarin. A few inaccuracies occurred in his narra- 
 tive, but so slight that it would have been difficult to 
 charge him with them. Besides, there was nothing in 
 them at all unfavourable to Albert. He insisted, on the 
 contrary, upon the excellent impression which that young 
 man had made on him. Albert had received the revelation 
 with a certain distrust, it is true, but with a noble firmness 
 at the same time, and, like a brave heart, was ready to 
 bow before the justification of right. In fact, he drew an 
 almost enthusiastic portrait of this rival, who had not been 
 spoiled by prosperity, who had left him without a look of 
 hatred, towards whom he felt himself drawn, and who 
 after all was his brother. 
 
 M. Daburon listened to Noel with the most unremitting 
 attention, without allowing a word, a movement, or a 
 frown, to betray his feelings. " How, sir," observed the 
 magistrate when the young man ceased speaking, " could 
 you have told me that, in your opinion, no one was in- 
 terested in Widow Lerouge's death ? " 
 
 The barrister made no reply. 
 
 "It seems to me," continued M. Daburon, "that the 
 Viscount de Commarin's position has thereby become al- 
 most impregnable. Madame Gerdy is insane ; the count 
 will deny all ; your letters prove nothing. It is evident 
 that the crime is of the greatest service to this young man, 
 and that it was committed at a singularly favourable 
 moment." 
 
 " Oh sir ! " cried Noel, protesting with all his energy, 
 "this insinuation is dreadful." 
 
 The magistrate watched the barrister's face narrowly. 
 Was he speaking frankly, or was he but playing at being 
 generous ? Could it really be that he had never had any 
 suspicion of this ? Noel did not flinch under the gaze, 
 but almost immediately continued, "What reason could 
 this young man have for trembling, or fearing for his 
 position ? I did not utter one threatening word, even in- 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 151 
 
 directly. I did not present myself like a man who, furious 
 at being robbed, demands, that everything which had been 
 taken from him should be restored on the spot. I merely 
 presented the facts to Albert, saying, ' Here is the truth ; 
 what do you thiiik we ought to do ? Be judge.' " 
 
 " And he asked you for time ? " 
 
 "Yes. I had suggested his accompanying me to see 
 Widow Lerouge, whose testimony might dispel all doubts ; 
 he did not seem to understand me. But he was well ac- 
 quainted with her, having visited her with the count, who 
 supplied her, I have since learned, liberally with money. " 
 
 " Did not this generosity appear to you very singular ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Can you explain why the viscount did not appear dis- 
 posed to accompany you ? " 
 
 " Certainly. He had just said that he wished, before 
 all, to have an explanation with his father, who was then 
 absent, but who would return in a few days." 
 
 The truth, as all the world knows, and delights in pro- 
 claming, has an accent which no one 'can mistake. M. 
 Daburon had not the slightest doubt of his witness's good 
 faith. Noel continued with the ingenuous candour of an 
 honest heart which suspicion has never touched with its 
 bat's wing : " The idea of treating at once with, my father 
 pleased me exceedingly. I thought it so much better to 
 wash all one's dirty linen at home, I had never desired 
 anything but an amicable arrangement. With my hands 
 full of proofs, I should still recoil from a public trial." 
 
 " Would you not have brought an action ? " 
 
 " Never, sir, not at any price. Could I," he added 
 proudly, " to regain, my rightful name, begin by dishonour- 
 ing it ? " 
 
 This time M. Daburon could not conceal his sincere 
 admiration. 
 
 " A most praiseworthy feeling, sir," he said. 
 
 " I think," replied Noel, " that it is but natural. If 
 things came to the worst, I had determined to leave my 
 title with Albert. No doubt the name of Commarin is an 
 illustrious one ; but I hope that, in ten years time, mine 
 will be more known. I would, however, have demanded 
 a large pecuniary compensation. I possess nothing : and 
 I have often been hampered in my career by the want of 
 money. That which Madame Gercly owed to the generos- 
 
1 5 2 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 ity of my father was almost entirely spent. My education 
 had absorbed a great part of it ; and it was long before 
 my profession covered my expenses. Madame Gerdy and 
 I live very quietly ; but, unfortunately, though simple in 
 her tastes, she lacks economy and system ; and no one 
 can imagine how great our expenses have been. But I 
 have nothing to reproach myself with, whatever happens. 
 At the commencement, I could not keep my anger well 
 under control ; but now I bear no ill-will. On learning 
 of the death of my nurse, though, I cast all my hopes into 
 the sea." 
 
 " You were wrong, my dear sir," said the magistrate. 
 " I advise you to still hope. Perhaps, before the end of 
 the day, you will enter into possession of your rights. 
 Justice, I will not conceal from you, thinks she has fouud 
 Widow Lerouge's assassin. At this moment, Viscount 
 Albert is doubtless under arrest." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Noel, with a sort of stupor: "I 
 was not, then, mistaken, sir, in the meaning of your 
 words. I dreaded to understand them." 
 
 " You have not mistaken me, sir," said M. Daburon. 
 " I thank you for your sincere straightforward explanations ; 
 they have eased my task materially. To-morrow, for to- 
 day my time is all taken up, we will write down your de- 
 position together if you like. I have nothing more to say, 
 I believe, except to ask you for the letters in your posses- 
 sion, and which are indispensable to me." 
 
 " Within an hour, sir, you shall have them," replied 
 Noel. And he retired, after having warmly expressed his 
 gratitude to the investigating magistrate. 
 
 Had he been less preoccupied, the barrister might have 
 perceived at the end of the gallery old Tabaret, who had 
 just arrived, eager and happy, like a bearer of great news 
 as he was. His cab had scarcely stopped at the gate of 
 the Palais de Justice before he was in the courtyard and 
 rushing towards the porch. To see him jumping more 
 nimbly than a fifth-rate lawyer's clerk up the steep flight 
 of stairs leading to the magistrate's office, one would 
 never have believed that he was many years on the shady 
 side of fifty. Even he himself had forgotten it. He did 
 not remember how he had passed the night ; he had never 
 before felt so fresh, so agile, in such spirits ; he seemed 
 to have springs of steel in his limbs. He burst like a can- 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 153 
 
 non-shot into the magistrate's office, knocking up against 
 the methodical clerk in the rudest of ways, without even 
 asking his pardon. " Caught ! " he cried, while yet 'on 
 the threshold, " caught, nipped, squeezed, strung, trapped, 
 locked ! We have got the man." Old Tabaret, more Ti- 
 rauclair than ever, gesticulated with such comical vehe- 
 mence and such remarkable contortions that even the tall 
 clerk smiled, for which, however, he took himself severely 
 to task on going to bed that night. 
 
 But M. Daburon, still under the influence of Noel's 
 deposition, was shocked at this apparently unseasonable 
 joy ; although he felt the safer for it. He looked severely 
 at old Tabaret, saying, " Hush, sir ; be decent, compose 
 yourself. " 
 
 At any other time, the old fellow would have felt 
 ashamed at having deserved such a reprimand. Now, 
 it made no impression on him. " I can't be quiet," he 
 replied. " Never has anything like this been known before. 
 All that I mentioned has been found. Broken foil, laven- 
 der kid gloves slightly frayed, cigar-holder; nothing is 
 wanting. You shall have them, sir, and many other things 
 besides. I have a little system of my own, which appears 
 by no means a bad one. Just see the triumph of my 
 method of induction, which Gevrol ridiculed so much. I'd 
 give a hundred francs if he were only here now. But no ; 
 my Gevrdi wants to nab the man with the ear-rings ; he 
 is just capable of doing that. He is a fine fellow, this 
 Gevrol, a famous fellow ! How much do you give him a 
 year for his skill ? " 
 
 " Come, my dear M. Tabaret," said the magistrate, as 
 soon as he could get in a word, "be serious, if you can, 
 and let us proceed in order." 
 
 " Pooh ! " replied the old fellow, " what good will that 
 do ? It is a clear case now. When they bring the fellow 
 before you, merely show him the particles of kid taken 
 from behind the nails of the victim, side by side with his 
 torn gloves, and you will overwhelm him. I wager that 
 he will confess all, hie et nunc, yes, I wager my head 
 against his ; although that's pretty risky ; for he may get 
 off yet ! Those milk-sops on the jury are just capable of 
 according him extenuating circumstances. Ah ! all those 
 delays are fatal to justice ! Why if all the world were of my 
 mind, the punishment of rascals wouldn't take such a time ! 
 
154 THE LEKOrCK CASE. 
 
 They should be hanged as soon as caught. That's my 
 opinion." 
 
 M. Daburon resigned himself to this shower of words. 
 As soon as the old fellow's excitement had cooled down a 
 little, he began questioning him. He even then had great 
 trouble in obtaining the exact details of the arrest ; details 
 which later on were confirmed by the commissary's official 
 report. The magistrate appeared very surprised when he 
 heard that Albert had exclaimed, " I am lost ! " at sight of 
 the warrant. " That," muttered he, " is a terrible proof 
 against him. 
 
 " I should think so," replied old Tabaret. " In his or- 
 dinary state, he would never have allowed himself to utter 
 such words ; for they in fact destroy him. We arrested 
 him when he was scarcely awake. He hadn't been in bed, 
 but was lying in a troubled sleep, upon a sofa, when we ar-' 
 rived. I took good care to let a frightened servant run in 
 in advance, and to follow closely upon him myself, to see 
 the effect. All my arrangements were made. But, never 
 fear, he will find a plausible excuse for this fatal examina- 
 tion. By the way, I should add that we found on the floor, 
 near by, a crumpled copy of last evening's ' Gazette de 
 France,' which contained an account of the assassination. 
 This is the first time that a piece of news in the papers 
 ever helped to nab a criminal." 
 
 " Yes," murmured the magistrate, deep in thought, " yes, 
 you are a valuable man, M. Tabaret." Then, louder, he 
 added, " I am thoroughly convinced ; for M. Gerdy has 
 just this moment left me." 
 
 " You have seen Noel ! " cried the old fellow. On the in- 
 stant all his proud self-satisfaction disappeared. A cloud 
 of anxiety spread itself like a veil over his beaming coun- 
 tenance. " Noel here," he repeated. Then he timidly 
 added : " And does he know ? " 
 
 " Nothing," replied M. Daburon. " I had no need of 
 mentioning your name. Besides, had I not promised ab- 
 solute secrecy ? " 
 
 " Ah, that's all right," cried old Tabaret. " And what 
 do you think sir, of Noel ? " 
 
 " His is, I am sure, a noble, worthy heart," said the 
 magistrate ; " a nature both strong and tender. The senti- 
 ments which I heard him express here, and the genuine- 
 ness of which it is impossible to doubt, manifested an ele- 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 155 
 
 vation of soul, unhappily, very rare. Seldom in my life 
 have I met with a man who so won my sympathy from the 
 first. I can well understand one's pride in being among 
 his friends." 
 
 "Just what I said; he has precisely the same effect 
 upon every one. I love him as though he were my own 
 child ; and, whatever happens, he will inherit almost the 
 whole of my fortune : yes, I intend leaving him everything. 
 My will is made, and is in the hands of M. Baron, my no- 
 tary. There is a small legacy, too, for Madame Gerdy ; 
 but I am going to have the paragraph that relates to that 
 taken out at once." 
 
 " Madame Gerdy, M. Tabaret, will soon be beyond all 
 need of worldly goods." . 
 
 " How, what do you mean ? Has the count " 
 
 " She is dying, and is not likely to live through the day \ 
 M. Gerdy told me so himself." 
 
 " Ah ! heavens ! " cried the old fellow, " what is that 
 you say ? Dying ? Noel will be distracted , but no : since 
 she is not his mother, how can it affect him ? Dying ! I 
 thought so much of her before this discovery. Poor hu- 
 manity ! It seems as though all the accomplices are pass- 
 ing away at the same time ; for I forgot to tell you, that, 
 just as I was leaving the Commarin Mansion, I heard a 
 servant tell another that the count had fallen down in a fit 
 on learning the news of his son's arrest." 
 
 " That will be a great misfortune for M. Gerdy." 
 
 " For Noel ? " 
 
 " I had counted upon M. de Commarin's testimony to 
 recover % for him all that he so well deserves. The count 
 dead, Widow Lerouge dead, Madame Gerdy dying, or in 
 any event insane, who then can tell us whether the substi- 
 tution alluded to in the letters was ever carried into exe- 
 cution ? " 
 
 " True," murmured old Tabaret ; " it is true ! And I 
 did not think of it. What fatality ! For I am not de 
 ceived ; I am certain that " 
 
 He did not finish. The door of M. Daburon's office 
 opened, and the Count de Commarin himself appeared on 
 the threshold, as rigid as one of those old portraits which 
 look as thdugh they were frozen in their gilded frames. 
 The nobleman motioned with his hand, and the two ser- 
 vants who had helped him up as far as the door, retired. 
 
156 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 XL 
 
 IT was indeed the Count de Commarin, though more 
 like his shadow. His head, usually carried so high, leant 
 upon his chest; his figure was bent- his eyes had no 
 longer their accustomed fire ; his hands trembled. The 
 extreme disorder of his dress rendered more striking still 
 the change which had come over him. In one night, he 
 had grown twenty years older. This man, yesterday so 
 proud of never having bent to a storm, was now completely 
 shattered. The pride of his name had constituted his en- 
 tire strength; that humbled, he seemed utterly over- 
 whelmed. Everything in 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 pre- 
 sented such a picture of utter despair that the investigat- 
 ing magistrate slightly shuddered at the sight. M. Taba- 
 ret looked frightened, and even the clerk seemed moved. 
 
 " Constant," said M. Daburon quickly, " go with M. Ta- 
 baret, and see if there's any news at the Prefecture." 
 
 The clerk left the room, followed by the detective, who 
 went away regretfully. The count had not noticed their 
 presence , he paid no attention to their departure. M. Da- 
 buron offered him a seat, which he accepted with a sad 
 smile. " I feel so weak," said he , " you must excuse my 
 sitting." 
 
 Apologies to an investigating magistrate ! What an ad- 
 vance in civilisation, when the nobles consider themselves 
 subject to the law, and bow to its decrees ! Every one re- 
 spects justice now-a-days, and fears it a little, even when 
 only represented by a simple and conscientious investigat- 
 ing magistrate. 
 
 " You are, perhaps, too unwell, count," said the magistrate, 
 " to give me the explanations I had hoped for." 
 
 " I am better, thank you," replied M. de Commarin, " I 
 am as well as could be expected after the shock I have re- 
 ceived. When I heard of the crime of which my son is ac- 
 cused, and of his arrest, I was thunderstruck. I believed 
 myself a strong man ; but I rolled in the dust My ser- 
 vants thought me dead. Why was it not so ? The strength 
 fomy constitution, my physician tells me, was all that saved 
 me ; but I believe that heaven wishes me to live, that I mav 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 157 
 
 drink to the bitter dregs my cup of humiliation." He 
 stopped suddenly, nearly choked by a flow of blood 
 that rose to his mouth. The investigating magistrate re- 
 mained standing near the table, almost afraid to move. Af- 
 ter a few moments' rest, the count found relief, and con- 
 tinued, " Unhappy man that I am ! ought I not to have 
 expected it ? Everything comes to light sooner or later. 
 I am punished for my great sin, pride. I thought myself 
 out of reach of the thunderbolt , and I have been the means 
 of drawing down the storm upon my house. Albert an 
 assassin ! A Viscount de Commarin arraigned before a 
 court of assize ! Ah, sir, punish me, also ; for I alone 
 and long ago, laid the foundation of this crime. Fifteen 
 centuries of spotless fame end with me in infamy." 
 
 M. Daburon considered Count de Commarin's conduct 
 unpardonable, and had determined not to spare him. He 
 had expected to meet a proud, haughty noble, almost un- 
 manageable ; and he had resolved to humble his arrogance. 
 Perhaps the harsh treatment he had received of old from 
 the Marchioness d'Arlange had given him, unconsciously, 
 a slight grudge against the aristocracy. He had vaguely 
 thought of certain rather severe remarks, which were to 
 overcome 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 he could 
 assuage the count's grief. 
 
 " Write, sir," continued M. de Commann with an exalta- 
 tion of which he did not seem capable ten minutes before, 
 "write my avowal and suppress nothing. I have no 
 longer need of mercy nor of tenderness. What have I to 
 fear now ? Is not my disgrace public ? Must not I, 
 Count Rheteau de Commarin appear before the tribunal, 
 to proclaim the infamy of our house ? Ah ! all is lost now, 
 even honour itself. Write, sir ; for I wish that all the world 
 shall know that I am the most deserving of blame. But 
 they shall also know that the punishment has been already 
 terrible, and that 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 he had 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. J 
 
158 THE LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 made her the most unhappy of women. I could not love 
 her. I cherished a most passionate love for a mistress, 
 who had trusted herself to me, and whom I had loved for 
 a long time. I found her rich in beauty, purity and mind. 
 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 effect upon me. In spite of my marriage, 
 I could not induce myself to part from her, though she 
 wished me to. The idea of sharing my love with another 
 was revolting to her. No doubt she loved me then. Our 
 relations continued. My wife and my mistress became 
 mothers at nearly the same time. This coincidence sug- 
 gested to me the fatal idea of sacrificing my legitimate son 
 to his less fortunate brother. I communicated this pro- 
 ject to Valerie. To my great surprise, she refused it with 
 horror. Already the maternal instinct was aroused within 
 her ; she would not be separated 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 last night. 
 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 evil which overwhelms me to-day. But 
 I came to Paris ; I had absolute control over her. I 
 threatened to leave her, never to see her again. She 
 yielded , and my valet and Claudine Lerouge were charged 
 with this wicked substitution. It is, therefore, the son 
 of my mistress who bears the title of Viscount de Com- 
 marin, and who was arrested but a short time ago." 
 
 M. Daburon had not hoped for a declaration so clear, 
 and above all so prompt. He secretly rejoiced for the 
 young barrister whose noble sentiments had quite captiva- 
 ted him. "So, count," said he, "you acknowledge that 
 M. Noel Gerdy is the issue of your legitimate marriage, 
 and that he alone is entitled to bear your name ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. Alas ! I was then more delighted at the suc- 
 cess of my project than I should have been over the most 
 brilliant victory. I was so intoxicated with the joy of hav- 
 ing my Valerie's child there, near me, that I forgot every- 
 thing else. I had transferred to him a part of my love for 
 his mother ; or, rather, I loved him still more, if that be 
 possible. The thought that he would bear my name, that 
 he would inherit all my wealth, to the detriment of the 
 other, transported me with delight The other, I hated ; 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 159 
 
 I could not even look upon him. I do not recollect hav- 
 ing kissed him twice. On this point Valerie, who was 
 very good, reproached me severely. One thing alone in- 
 terfered with my happiness. The Countess de Commarin 
 adored him whom she believed to be her son, and always 
 wished to have him on her knees. I cannot express what 
 I suffered at seeing my wife cover with kisses and caresses 
 thi child of my mistress. But I kept him from her as 
 much as I could ; and she, poor woman ! not understand^ 
 ing what was passing within me, imagined that I was do- 
 ing 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 her lips and in her heart." 
 
 Though greatly pressed for time, M. Daburon did not 
 venture to interrupt the count, to ask him briefly for the 
 immediate facts of the case. He knew that fever alone 
 gave him this unnatural energy, to which at any moment 
 might succeed the most complete prostration. He feared, 
 if he stopped him for an instant, that he would not have 
 strength enough to resume. 
 
 " I did not shed a single tear," continued the count. 
 " What had she been in my life ? A cause of sorrow and 
 remorse. But God's justice, in advance of man's was about 
 to take a terrible revenge. One day, I was warned that 
 Valerie was deceiving me, and had done so for a long time. 
 I could not believe it at first ; it seemed to me impossible, 
 absurd. I would have sooner doubted myself than her. 
 I had taken her from a garret, where she was working six- 
 teen hours a day to earn a few pence ; she owed all to me. 
 I had made her so much a part of myself that I could not 
 credit her being false. I could not induce myself to feel 
 jealous. However, I inquired into the matter; I had her 
 watched ; I even acted the spy upon her myself. I had 
 been told the truth. This unhappy woman had another 
 lover, and had had him for more than ten years. He was 
 a cavalry officer. In coming to her house he took every 
 precaution. He usually left about midnight ; but some- 
 times he came to pass the night, and in that case went 
 away in the early morning. Being stationed near Paris, 
 he frequently obtained leave of absence and came to visit 
 her ; and he would remain shut up in her apartments un- 
 til his time expired. One evening, my spies brought me 
 
i6o 7'IJE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 word that he was there. I hastened to the house. My 
 presence did not embarrass her. She received me as 
 usual, throwing her arms about my neck. I thought that 
 my spies had deceived me ; and I was going to tell her all, 
 when I saw upon the piano a buckskin glove, such as are 
 worn by soldiers. Not wishing a scene, and not knowing 
 to what excess my anger might carry me, I rushed out of 
 the place without saying a word. I have never seen her 
 since. She wrote to me. I did not open her letters. 
 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 
 haughty coldness, for his reserve so full of disdain, who 
 spoke thus, who opened his whole life without restrictions, 
 without reserve ? And to whom ? To a stranger. But 
 he was in one of those desperate states, allied to madness, 
 when all reflection leaves us, when we must find some out- 
 let to a too powerful emotion. What mattered to him this 
 secret, so courageously borne for so many years ? He 
 disburdened himself of it, like the poor man, who, weighed 
 down by a too heavy burden, casts it to the earth without 
 caring where it falls, nor how much it may tempt the cupid- 
 ity of the passers-by. 
 
 " Nothing," continued he, " no, nothing, can approach 
 to what I then endured. My very heartstrings were bound 
 up in that woman. She was like a part of myself. In 
 separating from her, it seemed to me that I was tearing 
 away a part of my own flesh. I cannot describe the furious 
 passions her memory stirred within me. I scorned her and 
 longed for her with equal vehemence. I hated her, and I 
 loved her. And, to this day, her detestable image has been 
 ever present to my imagination. Nothing can make me 
 forget her. I have never consoled myself for her loss. 
 And that is not all , terrible doubts about Albert occurred 
 to me. Was I really his father ? Can you understand 
 what my punishment was, when I thought to myself, ' I 
 have perhaps sacrificed my own son to the child of an utter 
 stranger. This thought made me hate the bastard who 
 called himself Commarin. To my great affection for him 
 succeeded an unconquerable aversion. How often, in those 
 days I struggled against an insane desire to kill him ! 
 Since then, I have learned to subdue my aversion ; but I 
 have never completely mastered it. Albert, sir, has been 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 161 
 
 the best of sons. Nevertheless, there has always been an 
 icy barrier between us, which he was unable to explain. 
 I have often been on the point of appealing to the tribunals, 
 of avowing all, of reclaiming my legitimate heir ; but regard 
 for my rank has prevented me. I recoiled before the scan- 
 dal. I feared the ridicule or disgrace that would attach to 
 my name ; and yet I have not been able to save it from 
 infamy." 
 
 The old nobleman remained silent, after pronouncing 
 these words. In a fit of despair, he buried his face in his 
 hands, and two great tears rolled silently down his wrinkled 
 cheeks. In the meantime, the door of the room opened 
 slightly, and the tall clerk's head appeared. M. Daburon 
 signed to him to enter, and then addressing M. cle Com- 
 marin, he said in a voice rendered more gentle by com- 
 passion : " Sir, in the eyes of 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 to repair 
 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. Da- 
 buron. ' 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the old man, " yes, I understand 
 you." 
 
 " It will be a consolation to you," added the magistrate, 
 " to learn that M. Noel Gerdy is worthy in all respects of 
 the high position that you are about to restore to him. He 
 is a man of great talent, better and worthier than any one 
 I know. You will have a son worthy of his ancestors. 
 And finally, no one of your family has disgraced it, sir, for 
 Viscount Albert is not a Commarin." 
 
 " No," rejoined the count quickly, " a Commarin would 
 be dead at this hour ; and blood washes all away." 
 
 The old nobleman's remark set the investigating mag- 
 istrate thinking profoundly. " 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 am entirely ignorant of all that has oc- 
 curred. I only know that justice would not proceed with- 
 out good cause against a man of Albert's rank. If you 
 
1 62 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 have arrested him, it is quite evident that you have some- 
 thing more than suspicion against him, that you possess 
 positive proofs." 
 
 M. Daburon bit his lips, and, for a moment, could not 
 conceal a feeling of displeasure. He had neglected his 
 usual prudence, had moved too quickly. He had believed 
 the count's mind entirely upset ; and now he had aroused 
 his distrust. All the skill in the world could not repair 
 such an unfortunate mistake. A witness on his guard is 
 no longer a witness to be depended upon ; he trembles for 
 fear of compromising himstlf, measures the weight of the 
 questions, and hesitates as to his answers. On the other 
 hand, justice, in the form of a magistrate, is disposed to 
 doubt everything, to imagine everything, and to suspect 
 everybody. How far was the count a stranger to the crime 
 at La Jonchere ? Although doubting Albert's paternity, 
 he would certainly have made great efforts to save him. 
 His story showed that he thought his honour in peril just as 
 much as his son. Was he not the man to suppress, by 
 every means, an inconvenient witness ? Thus reasoned M. 
 Daburon. And yet he could not clearly see how the 
 Count de Commarin's interests were concerned in the 
 matter. This uncertainty made him very uneasy. " Sir," 
 he asked, more sternly, "when were you informed of the 
 discovery of your secret ? " 
 
 " Last evening, by Albert himself. He spoke to me of 
 this sad story, in a way which I now seek in vain to ex- 
 plain, unless " The count stopped short, as if his reason 
 had been struck by the improbability of the supposition 
 which he had formed. 
 
 " Unless ! " inquired the magistrate eagerly. 
 
 " Sir," said the count, without replying directly, " Al- 
 bert is a hero, if he is not guilty." 
 
 "Ah!" said the magistrate quickly, "have you, then, 
 reason to think him innocent ? " 
 
 M. Daburon's spite was so plainly visible in the tone of 
 his words that M. 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 a witness 
 for, than I was a moment ago a witness against. I desire 
 only to render what assistance I can to justice, in accord- 
 ance with my duty." 
 
 " Confound it," said M. Daburon to himself, " here I 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 163 
 
 have offended him now ! Is this the way to do things, 
 making mistake after mistake ? " 
 
 " The facts are these," resumed "the count. " Yester- 
 day, after having spoken to me of these cursed letters, Al- 
 bert began to set a trap to discover the truth, for he still 
 had doubts, Noel Gerdy not having obtained the complete 
 correspondence. An animated -discussion arose between 
 us. He declared his resolution to give way to Noel. I, 
 on the other hand, was resolved to compromise the mat- 
 ter, cost what it might. Albert dared to oppose me. All 
 my efforts to convert him to my views were useless. Vainly 
 I tried to touch those chords in his breast which I supposed 
 the most sensitive. He firmly repeated his intention to 
 retire in spite of me, declaring himself satisfied, if I would 
 consent to allow him a modest competence. I again at- 
 tempted to shake him, by showing him that his marriage, 
 so ardently looked forward to for two years, would be 
 broken off by this blow. He replied that he felt sure of 
 the constancy of his betrothed, Mademoiselle d'Arlange." 
 
 This name fell like a thunderbolt upon the ears of tke 
 investigating magistrate. He jumped in his chair. Feel- 
 ing that his face was turning crimson, 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 to decipher an 
 illegible word. He began to understand the difficult duty 
 with which he was charged. He knew that he was troub- 
 led like a child, having neither his usual calmness nor fore- 
 sight. He felt that he might commit the most serious 
 blunders. Why had he undertaken this investigation ? 
 Could he preserve himself quite free from bias ? Did he 
 think his will would be perfectly impartial ? Gladly would 
 he put off to 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 pain- 
 ful examination. 
 
 " Sir," said he, " the sentiments expressed by the vis- 
 count are very fine, without doubt ; but did he not men- 
 tion Widow Lerouge ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied the count, who appeared suddenly to 
 brighten, as by the remembrance of some unnoticed cir- 
 cumstances, " yes, certainly." 
 
 " He must have shown you that this woman's testimony 
 rendered a struggle with M. Gerdy impossible." 
 
<6 t THE LEROUGK CAS/-:. 
 
 " Precisely, sir ; and, aside from the question of duty, 
 it was upon that that he based his refusal to follow my 
 wishes." 
 
 " It will be necessary, count, for you to repeat to 
 me very exactly all that passed between the viscount 
 and yourself. Appeal, then, I beseech you, to your 
 memory, and try to repeat his own words as nearly as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 M. de Commarin could do so without much difficulty. 
 For some little time, a salutary reaction had taken place 
 \vithin him. His blood, excited by the persistence of the 
 examination, moved in its accustomed course. His brain 
 cleared itself. The scene of the previous evening was ad- 
 mirably presented to his memory, even to the most insig- 
 nificant details. The sound of Albert's voice was still in 
 his ears ; he saw again his expressive gestures. As his 
 story advanced, alive with clearness and precision, M. 
 Daburon's conviction became more confirmed. The mag- 
 istrate turned against Albert precisely that which the day 
 before had won the count's admiration. " What wonder- 
 ful acting ! " thought he. " Tabaret is decidedly possessed 
 of second sight. To .his inconceivable boldness, this 
 young man joins an infernal cleverness. The genius of 
 crime itself inspires him. It is a miracle that we are able 
 to unmask him. How well everything was foreseen and 
 arranged ? How marvellously this scene with his father 
 was brought about, in order to procure doubt in case of 
 discovery ? There is not a sentence which lacks a pur- 
 pose, which does not tend to ward off suspicion. What 
 refinement of execution ? What excessive care for details ! 
 Nothing is wanting, not even the great devotion of his be- 
 trothed. 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 love such a man ! But his plan is 
 now fully exposed. His discussion with the count was 
 his plank of safety. It commited him to nothing, and 
 gained time. He would of course raise objections, since 
 they would only end by binding him the more firmly in 
 his father's heart. He could thus make a merit of his 
 compliance, and would ask a reward for his weakness. 
 And, when Noel returned to the charge, he would find 
 himself in presence of the count, who would boldly deny 
 everything, politely refuse to have anything to do with him f 
 
TUE LE ROUGE CASE. 165 
 
 and would possibly have him driven out of the house, as 
 an impostor and forger." 
 
 It was a strange coincidence, but yet easily explained, 
 that M. de Commarin, while telling his story, arrived at 
 the same ideas as the magistrate, and at conclusions al- 
 most identical. In fact, why that persistence with respect 
 to Claudine ? He remembered plainly, that, in his anger, 
 he had said to his son, " Mankind is not in the habit of 
 doing such fine actions for its own satisfaction." That 
 great disinterestedness 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 believe that, in the scene which 
 you have just related to me, Viscount Albert played a 
 part previously arranged." 
 
 " And well arranged," murmured the count ; " for he de- 
 ceived me ! " 
 
 He was interrupted by the entrance of Noel, who car* 
 ried under his arm a black shagreen portfolio, ornamented 
 with his monogram. The barrister bowed to the old gen- 
 tleman, who in his turn rose and retired politely to the end 
 of the room. " Sir," said Noel, in an undertone to the 
 magistrate, " you will find all the letters in this portfolio. 
 I must ask permission to leave you at once, as Madame 
 Gerdy's condition grows hourly more alarming." 
 
 Noel had raised his voice a little, in pronouncing 1 these 
 last words ; and the count "heard them. He started, and 
 made a great effort to restrain the question which leaped 
 from his heart to his lips. " You must however give me a 
 moment, my dear sir," replied the magistrate. 
 
 M. Daburon then quitted his chair, and, taking the bar- 
 rister by the hand, led him to the count. " M. de Com 
 marin," 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 a muscle 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, and was 
 obliged to seek support from the back of a chair. Then 
 these two, father and son, stood face to face, apparently 
 deep in thought, but in reality examining one another 
 with mutual distrust, each striving to gather something of the 
 other's thoughts. M. Daburon had augured better results 
 
166 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 from this meeting, which he had been awaiting ever since the 
 count's arrival. He had expected that this abrupt presen- 
 tation would bring abdut an intensely pathetic scene, iiich 
 would not give his two witnesses time for reflection, 
 count would open his arms : Noel would throw him 
 into them ; and this reconciliation would only await the 
 sanction of the tribunals, to be complete. The coldness 
 of the one, the embarrassment of the other, disconcerted 
 his plans. He therefore thought it necessary to intervene. 
 " Count," said he reproachfully, " remember that it was 
 only a few minutes ago that you admitted that M. Gerdy 
 was your legitimate son." 
 
 M. de Commarin made no reply ; to judge trom his lack 
 of emotion, he could not have heard. So Noel, summon- 
 ing all his courage, ventured to speak first, " Sir," he 
 stammered, " I entertain no " 
 
 " You may call me father," interrupted the haughty 
 old man, in a tone which was by no means affectionate. 
 Then addressing the magistrate he said : " Can I be of 
 any further use to you, sir ? " 
 
 " Only to hear your evidence read over," replied M. 
 Daburon, " and to sign it if you find everything correct. 
 You can proceed, Constant," he added. 
 
 The tall clerk turned half round on his chair and com- 
 menced. He had a peculiar way of jabbering over what 
 he had scrawled. He read very qnickly, all at a stretch, 
 without paying the least attention to either full stops or 
 commas, questions or replies ; but went on reading as long 
 as his breath lasted. When he could go on no longer, he 
 took a breath, and then continued as before. Uncon- 
 sciously, he reminded one of a diver, who every now and 
 then raises his head above water, obtains a supply of air, 
 and disappears again. Noel was the only one to listen 
 attentively to the reading, which to unpractised ears was 
 unintelligible. It apprised him of many things which it 
 was important for him to know. At last Constant pro- 
 nounced the words, " In testimony whereof," &c., which 
 end all official reports in France. He handed the pen to 
 the count, who signed without hesitation. The old noble- 
 man 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 barrister advanced eagerly. His face bright- 
 
THE LEKOUGE CASE. 167 
 
 ened, as he passed the count's arm through his' own. 
 When they were gone, M. Daburon could not resist an 
 i Dulse of curiosity. He hastened to the door, which he 
 .ied slightly ; and, keeping his body in the background, 
 mat he might not himself be seen, he looked out into the 
 passage. The count and Noel had not yet reached the 
 end. They were going slowly. The count seemed to 
 drag heavily and painfully along; the barrister took short 
 steps, bending slightly towards his father ; and all his move- 
 ments were marked with the greatest solicitude. The 
 magistrate remained watching them until they passed out 
 of sight at the end of the gallery. Then he returned to 
 his seat, heaving a deep sigh. " At least," thought he, " I 
 have helped to make one person happy. The day will not 
 be entirely a bad one." 
 
 But he had no time to give way to his thoughts, the 
 hours flew by so quickly. He wished to interrogate 
 Albert as soon as possible ; and he had still to receive the 
 evidence of several of the count's servants, and the report 
 of the commissary of police charged with the arrest. The 
 servants who had been waiting their turn a long while, 
 were now brought in without delay, and examined sepa- 
 rately. They had but little information to give ; but the 
 testimony of each was so to say a fresh accusation. 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 report- 
 ed, commented upon, and explained. The man who lives 
 in the midst of thirty servants is like an insect in a glass 
 box under the magnifying glass of a naturalist. Not one 
 of his acts 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 has one. From morn till night, 
 he is the point of observation for thirty pairs of eyes, inter- 
 ested in studying the slightest changes in his countenance. 
 The magistrate obtained, therefore, an abundance of those 
 frivolous details which seem nothing at first ; but the 
 slightest of which may, at the trial, become a question of 
 life or death. 
 
 By combining these depositions, reconciling them and 
 putting them in order, M. Daburon was able to follow his 
 prisoner hour by hour from the Sunday morning. Directly 
 Noel left, the viscount gave orders that all visitors should 
 
K.S THE LEROUI;I-: CASE. 
 
 be informed that he had gone into the country. From 
 that moment, the whole household perceived that some- 
 tiling had gone wrong with him, that he was very much 
 annoyed, or very unwell. He did not leave his study on 
 that day, but had his dinner brought up to him. He ate 
 very little, only some soup, and a very thin fillet of sole 
 with white wine. While eating, he said to M. Courtois, 
 the butler : " Remind the cook to spice the sauce a little 
 more, in future," and then added in a low tone, "Ah ! to 
 what purpose ? " In the evening he dismissed his servants 
 from all duties, saying, " Go, and amuse yourselves." He 
 expressly warned them not to disturb him unless he rang. 
 On the Monday, he did not get up until noon, although usu- 
 ally an early riser. He complained of a violent headache, 
 and of feeling sick. He took, however a cup of tea. He 
 ordered his brougham, but almost immediately counter- 
 manded the order. Lubin, his valet, heard him say : " I 
 am hesitating too much ; " and a few moments later, " I 
 must make up my mind." Shortly afterwards he began 
 writing. He then gave Lubin a letter to carry to Madem- 
 oiselle 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. 
 Joseph no longer remembered the name of the person to 
 whom the letter was addressed ; but it was not a person 
 of title. That evening, Albert only took a little soup, and 
 remained shut up in his room. 
 
 He rose early on the Tuesday. He wandered about 
 the house, as though he were in great trouble, or impa- 
 tiently awaiting something which did not arrive. On his 
 going into the garden, the gardener asked his advice con- 
 cerning a lawn. He replied, " You had better consult 
 the count upon his return." He did not breakfast any 
 more than the day before. About one o'clock, he went 
 down to stables, and caressed, with an air of sadness, his 
 favourite mare. Norma. Stroking her neck, he said, " Poor 
 creature ! poor old girl ! '' At three o'clock, a messenger 
 arrived with a letter. The viscount took it, and opened it 
 hastily. He was then near the flower-garden. Two foot- 
 men distinctly heard him say, " She cannot resist." He 
 returned to the house, and burnt the letter in the large 
 stove in the hall. As he y:as sitting down to dinner, at 
 
LEKOLGE CASE. i6j 
 
 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 gentle- 
 men were anxious for him to join them in some pleasure 
 party, but he declined, saying that he had a very impor- 
 tant appointment. At dinner he ate a little more than on 
 the previous days. He even asked the butler for a bottle 
 of Chateau-Lafite, the whole of which he drank himself. 
 While taking his coffee, he smoked a cigar in the dining- 
 room, contrary to the rules of the house. At half-past 
 seven, according to Joseph and two footmen, or at eight 
 according to the Swiss porter and Lubin, the viscount 
 went out on foot, taking an umbrella with him. He re- 
 turned home at two o'clock in the morning, and at once 
 dismissed his valet, who had waited up for him. On en- 
 tering the viscount's room on the Wednesday, the valet 
 was struck with the condition in which he found his mas- 
 ter's clothes. They were wet, and stained with mud, the 
 trousers were torn. He ventured to make a remark about 
 them. Albert replied, in a furious manner, " Throw the 
 old things in a corner, ready to be given away." He ap- 
 peared to be much better all that day. He breakfasted 
 with a good appetite ; and the butler noticed that he was 
 in excellent spirits. He passed the afternoon in the 
 library, and burnt a pile of papers. On the Thursday, he 
 again seemed very unwell. He was scarcely able to go 
 and meet the count. That evening, after his interview 
 with his father, he went to his room looking extremely ill. 
 Lubin wanted to run for the doctor : he forbade him to do 
 so, or to mention to any one that he was not well. 
 
 Such was the substance of twenty large pages, which 
 the tall clerk had covered with writing, without once turn- 
 ing his head to look at the witnesses who passed by in 
 their fine livery. M. Daburon managed to obtain this evi- 
 dence in less than two hours. Though well aware of the 
 importance of their testimony, all these servants were very 
 voluble. The difficulty was, to stop them when they had 
 once started. From all they said, it appeared that Albert 
 was a very good master, easily served, kind and polite 
 to his servants. Wonderful to relate ! there were found 
 three among them who did not appear perfectly delighted 
 at the misfortune which had befallen the family. Two 
 
1 70 THE LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 were greatly distressed. M. Lubin, although he had been 
 an object of especial kindness, was not one of these. 
 
 The turn of the commissary of police had now come. 
 In a few words, he gave an account of the arrest, already 
 described by old Tabaret. He did not forget to mention 
 the one word " Lost," which had escaped Albert ; to his 
 mind, it was a confession. He then delivered all the ar- 
 ticles seized in the Viscount de Commarin's apartments. 
 The magistrate carefully examined these things, and com- 
 pared them closely with the scraps of evidence gathered 
 at La Jonchere. He soon appeared, more than ever sat- 
 isfied with the course he had taken. He then placed all 
 these material proofs upon his table, and covered them 
 over with three or four large sheets of paper. The day 
 was far advanced ; and M. Daburon had no more than 
 sufficient time to examine the prisoner before night. He 
 now remembered that he had tasted nothing since morn- 
 ing ; and he sent hastily for a bottle of wine and some 
 biscuits. It was not strength, however, that the magistrate 
 needed ; it was courage. All the while that he was eating 
 and drinking, his thoughts kept repeating this strange sen- 
 tence, " I am about to appear before the Viscount de 
 Commarin." At any other time, he would have laughed 
 at the absurdity of the idea , but, at this moment, it seemed 
 to him like the will of Providence. 
 
 " So be it," said he to himself ; " this is my punish- 
 ment." And immediately he gave the necessary orders 
 for Viscount Albert to be brought before him. 
 
 XII. 
 
 ALBERT scarcely noticed his removal from home to the 
 seclusion of the prison. Snatched away from his painful 
 thoughts by the harsh voice of the commissary, saying. 
 " In the name of the law I arrest you," his mind, com- 
 pletely upset, was a long time in recovering its equilibrium, 
 Everything that followed appeared to him to float indis- 
 tinctly in a thick mist, like those dream-scenes represented 
 on the stage behind a quadruple curtain of gauze. To 
 the questions put to him he replied, without knowing what 
 he said. Two police agents took hold of his arms, and 
 helped him down the stairs. He could not have walked 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 171 
 
 down alone. His limbs, which bent beneath him, refused 
 their support. The only thing he understood of al! that 
 was said around him was that the count had been struck 
 with apoplexy ; but even that he soon forgot. They lifted 
 him into the cab, which was waiting in the court-yard at 
 the foot of the steps, rather ashamed at finding itself in 
 such a place ; and they placed him on the back seat. 
 Two police agents installed themselves in front of him ; 
 while a third mounted the box by the side of the driver. 
 During the drive, he did not at all realize his situation. 
 He lay perfectly motionless in the dirty, greasy vehicle. 
 His body, which followed every jolt, scarcely allayed by 
 the worn-out springs, rolled from one side to the other ; 
 and his head oscillated on his shoulders, as if the muscles 
 of his neck were broken. He thought of Widow Lerouge. 
 He recalled her as she was when he went with his father 
 to La Jonchere. It was in the spring-time ; and the haw- 
 thorn blossoms scented the air. The old woman, in a 
 white cap, stood at her garden gate : she spoke beseech- 
 ingly. The count looked sternly at her as he listened ; 
 then, taking some gold from his purse, he gave it to 
 her. 
 
 On arriving at their destination they lifted him out of the 
 cab, the same way as the_y had lifted him in at starting. 
 During the formality of entering his name in the jail-book, 
 in the dingy, stinking record office, and whilst replying 
 mechanically to everything, he gave himself up with delight 
 to recollections of Claire. He went back to the time of 
 the early days of their love, when he doubted whether he 
 would ever have the happiness of being loved by her in 
 return ; when they used to meet at Mademoiselle Goello's. 
 This old maid had a house on the left bank of the Seine, 
 furnished in the most eccentric manner. On all the draw- 
 ing-room furniture, and on the mantel-piece, were placed a 
 dozen or fifteen stuffed dogs, of various breeds, which to- 
 gether or successively had helped to cheer the maiden's 
 lonely hours. She loved to relate stories of these pets, 
 whose affection had never failed her. Some were grotesque, 
 others horrible. One especially, outrageously stuffed, 
 seemed ready to burst. How many times he and Claire 
 had laughed at it until the tears came ! 
 
 The officials next began to search him. This crowning 
 humiliation, these rough hands passing all over his body, 
 
IJ3 TJJE LEROL'GE CASE. 
 
 brought him somewhat to himself, and roused his anger. 
 l!ut it was already over ; and they at once dragged him along 
 the dark corridors, over the filthy, slippery floor. They 
 opened a door, and pushed him into a small cell. He then 
 heard them lock and bolt the door. He was a prisoner, 
 and, in accordance with special orders, in solitary confine- 
 ment. He immediately felt a marked sensation of comfort. 
 He was alone. No more stifled \vhispers, harsh voices, 
 implacable questions, sounded in his ears. A profound 
 silence reigned around. It seemed to him that he had for- 
 ever escaped from society ; and he rejoiced at it. He 
 would have felt relieved, had this even been the silence of 
 the grave. His body, as well as his mind, was weighed 
 down with weariness. He wanted to sit down, when he 
 perceived a small bed, to the right, in front of the grated 
 window, which let in the little light there was. This bed 
 was as welcome to him as a plank would be to a drowning 
 man. He threw himself upon it, and lay down with 
 delight ; but he felt cold, so he unfolded the coarse woollen 
 coverlid, and wrapping it about him, was soon sound 
 asleep. 
 
 In the corridor, two detectives, one still young, the other 
 rather old, applied alternately their eyes and ears to the 
 peep-hole in the door, watching every movement of the 
 prisoner ; '"What a fellow he is ! " murmured the younger 
 officer " If a man has no more nerve than that, he ought 
 to remain honest. He won't care much about his looks 
 the morning of his execution, eh, M. Balan ? " 
 
 "That depends," replied the other, "We must wait and 
 see. Lecoq told me that he was a terrible rascal." 
 
 " Ah ! look he arranges his bed, and lies down. Can 
 he be going to sleep ? That's good ! It's the first time I 
 ever saw such a thing." 
 
 " It is because, comrade, you have only had dealings 
 with the smaller rogues. All rascals of position and I 
 have had to do with more than one are this sort. At 
 the moment of arrest, they are incapable of anything 
 their heart fails them ; but they recover themselves next 
 day." 
 
 " Upon my word, one would say he has gone to sleep ! 
 What a joke!" 
 
 " I tell you, my friend," added the old man, pointedly, 
 " that nothing is more natural. I am sure that, since the 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 173 
 
 blow was struck, this young fellow has hardly lived : his 
 body has been all on fire. Now he knows that his secret is 
 out ; and that quiets him." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! M. Balan, you are joking : you say that 
 that quiets him ? " 
 
 " Certainly. There is no greater punishment, remember, 
 than anxiety ; every thing is preferable. If you only pos- 
 sessed an income of ten thousand francs, I would show you 
 a way to prove this. I would tell you to go to Hamburg 
 and risk your entire fortune on one chance at rouge et noir. 
 You could relate to me, afterwards, what your feelings 
 were while the ball was rolling. It is, my boy, as though 
 your brain was being torn with pincers, as though molten 
 lead was being poured into your bones, in place of marrow. 
 This anxiety is so strong, that one feels relieved, one 
 breathes again, even when one has lost. It is ruin ; but 
 then the anxiety is over." 
 
 " Really, M. Balan, one would think that you yourself 
 had had just such an experience." 
 
 " Alas ! sighed the old detective, " it is to my love queen 
 of spades, my unhappy love, that you owe the honour of 
 looking through this peep-hole in my company. But this 
 fellow will sleep for a couple of hours, do not lose sight 
 of him ; I am going to smoke a cigarette in the court- 
 yard." 
 
 Albert slept four hours. On awaking his head seemed 
 clearer than it had been ever since his interview with Noel. 
 It was a terrible moment for him, when, for the first time 
 he became fully aware of his situation. " Now, indeed," 
 said he, " I require all my courage." He longed to see 
 some one, to speak, to be questioned, to explain. He felt 
 a desire to call out. " But what go*od would that be?" 
 he asked himself. " Some one will be coming soon." 
 He looked for his watch, to see what time it was, and 
 found that they had taken it away. He felt this deeply ; 
 they were treating him like the most abandoned of villains. 
 He felt in his pockets : they had all been carefully emptied. 
 He thought now of his personal appearance ; and, getting 
 up, he repaired as much as possible the disorder of his toilet. 
 He put his clothes in order, and dusted them ; he straight- 
 ened his collar, and re-tied his cravat. Then pouring a 
 little water on his handkerchief, he passed it over his face, 
 bathing his eyes which were greatly inflamed. Then he en- 
 
174 THE LE ROUGE CASK. 
 
 deavoured to smooth his beard and hair. He had no idea 
 that four lynx eyes were fixed upon him all the while. 
 
 "Good!" murmured the young detective: "see how 
 our cock sticks up his comb, and smooths his feathers 1 " 
 
 " I told you," put in Balan, " that he was only stag- 
 gered. Hush ! he is speaking, I believe." 
 
 But they neither surprised one of those disordered gest- 
 ures nor one of those incoherent speeches, which almost 
 always escape from the feeble when excited by fear, or 
 from the imprudent ones who believe in the discretion of 
 their cells. One word alone, " honour," reached the ears 
 of the two spies. 
 
 " These rascals of rank," grumbled Balan, " always have 
 this word in their mouths. That which they most fear is 
 the opinion of some dozen friends, and several thousand 
 strangers, who read the ' Gazette des Tribunaux.' They 
 only think of their own heads later on." 
 
 When the gendarmes came to conduct Albert before the 
 investigating magistrate, they found him seated on the side 
 of his bed, his feet pressed upon the iron rail, his elbows 
 on his knees, and his head buried in his hands. He rose, 
 as they entered, and took a few steps towards them ; but 
 his throat was so dry that he was scarcely able to speak. 
 He asked for a moment, and, turning towards the little 
 table, he filled and drank two large glassfuls of water in 
 succession. " I am ready ! " he then said. And, with a 
 firm step, he followed the gendarmes along the passage 
 which led to the Palais de Justice. 
 
 M. Daburon was just then in great anguish. He walked 
 furiously up and down -his office, awaiting the prisoner. 
 Again, and for the twentieth time since morning, he re- 
 gretted having engaged in the business. " Curse this ab- 
 surd point of honour, which I have obeyed," he inwardly 
 exclaimed. " I in vain attempt to reassure myself by 
 the aid of sophisms. I was wrong in not withdrawing. 
 Nothing in the world can change my feelings towards 
 this young man. I hate him. I am his judge ; and it is 
 no less true, that at one time I longed to assassinate 
 him. I faced him with a revolver in my hand : why 
 did I not present it and fire ? Do I know why ? What 
 power held my finger t when an almost insensible pressure 
 would have sufficed to kill him ? cannot say. Why is 
 not he the judge, and I the assassin ? If the intention 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 175 
 
 was as punishable as the deed, I ought to be guillotined. 
 And it is under such conditions that I dare examine him ! " 
 Passing before the door he heard the heavy footsteps of 
 the gendarmes in the passage. " It is he," he said aloud , 
 and then hastily seated himself at his table, bending over 
 his portfolios, as though striving to hide himself. If the 
 tall clerk had used his eyes, he would have noticed the 
 singular spectacle of an investigating magistrate more agi- 
 tated than the prisoner he was about to examine. But he 
 was blind to all around him ; and, at this moment, he was 
 only aware of an error of fifteen centimes, which had 
 slipped into his accounts, and which he was unable to rec- 
 tify. Albert entered the magistrate's office with his head 
 erect. His features bore traces of great fatigue and of 
 sleepless nights. He was very pale ; but his eyes were 
 clear and sparkling. 
 
 The usual questions which open such examinations gave 
 M. Daburon an opportunity to recover himself. Fortu- 
 nately, he had found time in the morning to prepare a 
 plan, which he had now simply to follow. " You are 
 aware, sir," he commenced in a tone of perfect politeness, 
 " that you have no right to the name you bear ? " 
 
 " I know, sir," replied Albert, " that I am the natural 
 son of M. de Commarin. I know further that my father 
 would be unable to recognise me, even if he wished to, 
 since I was born during his married life." 
 
 " What were your feelings upon learning this ? " 
 
 " I should speak falsely, sir, if I had said I did not feel 
 very bitterly. When one is in the high position I occu- 
 pied, the fall is terrible. However, I never for a moment 
 entertained the thought of contesting M. Noel Gerdy's 
 rights. I always purposed, and still purpose, to yield. I 
 have so informed M. de Commarin." 
 
 M. Daburon expected just such a reply; and it only 
 strengthened his suspicions. Did it not enter into the 
 line of defence which he had foreseen ? It was now his 
 duty to seek some way of demolishing this defence, in 
 which the prisoner evidently meant to shut himself up like 
 a tortoise in its shell. 
 
 " You could not oppose M. Gerdy," continued the mag- 
 istrate, " wi'th any chance of success. You had, indeed, 
 on your side, the count, and your mother ; but M. Gerdy 
 
1 76 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 was in possession of evidence that was certain to win his 
 cause, that of Widow Lerouge." 
 
 " I have never doubted that, sir." 
 
 " Now continued the magistrate, seeking to hide the 
 look which he fastened upon Albert, "justice supposes 
 that, to do away with the only existing proof, you have 
 assassinated Widow Lerouge." 
 
 This terrible accusation, terribly emphasised, caused no 
 change in Albert's features. He preserved the same firm 
 bearing, without bravado. " Before God," he answered, 
 " and by all that is most sacred on earth, I swear to you, 
 sir, that I am innocent ! I am at this moment a close 
 prisoner, without communication with the outer world, re- 
 duced consequently to the most absolute helplessness. It 
 is through your probity that I hope to demonstrate my in- 
 nocence." 
 
 " What an actor ! " thought the magistrate. " Can 
 crime be so strong as this ? " He glanced over his papers, 
 reading certain passages of the preceding depositions, 
 turning down the corners of certain pages which contained 
 important information. Then suddenly he resumed, 
 " When you were* arrested, you cried out, ' I am lost , ' 
 what did you mean by that ? " 
 
 " Sir," replied Albert, " I remember having uttered 
 those words. When I knew of what crime I was accused, 
 I was overwhelmed with consternation. My mind was, as 
 it were, enlightened by a glimpse of the future. In a mo- 
 ment, I perceived all the horror of my situation. I under- 
 stood the weight of the accusation, its probability, and the 
 difficulties I should have in defending myself. A voice 
 cried out to me, ' Who was most interested in Claudine's 
 death ! ' And the knowledge of my imminent peril forced 
 from me the exclamation you speak of." 
 
 His explanation was more than plausible, was possible, 
 and even likely. It had the advantage, too, of anticipat- 
 ing the axiom, " Search out the one whom the crime will 
 benefit ! " Tabaret had spoken truly, when he said that 
 they would not easily make the prisoner confess. M. Da- 
 buron admired Albert's presence of mind, and the re- 
 sources of his perverse imagination. 
 
 " You do indeed," continued the magistrate, " appear to 
 have had the greatest interest in this death. Moreover, I 
 will inform you that robbery was not the object of the 
 
THE LEKOL'GE CASE. 177 
 
 crime. The things thrown into the Seine have been re- 
 covered. We know, also, that all the widow's papers were 
 burnt. Could they compromise any one but yourself ? if 
 you know of any one, speak." 
 
 " What can I answer, sir ? Nothing." 
 
 " Have you often gone to see this woman ? " 
 
 " Three or four times with my father." 
 
 " One of your coachmen pretends to have driven you 
 there at least ten times." 
 
 " The man is mistaken. But what matters the number 
 of visits ? " 
 
 " Do you recollect the arrangements of the rooms ? Can 
 you describe them ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, sir : there were two. Claudine slept in the 
 back room." 
 
 " You were in no. way a stranger to Widow Lerouge. 
 If you had knocked one evening at her window-shutter, do 
 you think she would have let you in ? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir, and -eagerly." 
 
 " You have been unwell these last few days ? " 
 
 " Very unwell, to say the least, sir. My body bent un- 
 der the weight of a burden too great for my strength. It 
 was not, however, for Want of courage." 
 
 " Why did you forbid your valet, Lubin, to call in the 
 doctor?" 
 
 " Ah, sir, how could the doctor cure my disease*? All 
 his science could not make me the legitimate son of the 
 Count de Commarin." 
 
 " Some very singular remarks made by you were over- 
 heard. You seemed to be no longer interested in anything 
 concerning your home. You destroyed a large number of 
 papers and letters." 
 
 " I had decided to leave the count, sir. My resolution 
 explains my conduct." 
 
 Albert replied promptly to the magistrate's questions, 
 without the least embarrassment, and in a confident tone. 
 His voice, which was very pleasant to the ear, did not trem- 
 ble. It concealed no emotion ; it retained its pure and vibra- 
 ting sound. M. Daburon deemed it wise to suspend the 
 examination for a short time. With so cunning an adver- 
 sary, he was evidently pursuing a false course. To 
 proceed in detail was folly; he neither intimidated the 
 
1-8 THE LEROL'GE CASE. 
 
 prisoner, nor made him break through his reserve. It was 
 necessary to take him unawares. 
 
 " Sir," resumed the magistrate, abruptly, " tell me exactly 
 how you passed your time last Tuesday evening, from six 
 o'clock until midnight ? " 
 
 For the first time, Albert seemed disconcerted. His 
 glance, which had, till then, been fixed upon the magistrate, 
 wavered. "During Tuesday evening," he stammered, re- 
 peating the phrase to gain time. 
 
 " I have him," thought the magistrate, starting with joy, 
 and then added aloud, " yes, from six o'clock until mid- 
 night." 
 
 " I am afraid, sir," answered Albert, " it will be difficult 
 for me to satisfy you. I haven't a very good memory." 
 
 " Oh, don't tell me that ! " interrupted the magistrate. 
 " If I had asked what you were doing three months ago, 
 on a certain evening, and at a certain hour, I could under- 
 stand your hesitation ; but this is about Tuesday, and it is 
 now Friday. Moreover, this day, so close, was the last of 
 the carnival ; it was Shrove Tuesday. That circumstance 
 ought to help your memory." 
 
 " That evening, I went out walking," murmured Al- 
 bert. 
 
 " Now," continued the magistrate, " where did you 
 dine ? " 
 
 " At home, as usual." 
 
 " No, not as usual. At the end of your meal, you asked 
 for a bottle of Bordeaux, of which you drank the whole. 
 You doubtless had need of some extra excitement for your 
 subsequent plans." 
 
 " I had no plans," replied the prisoner with very evi- 
 dent uneasiness. 
 
 " You make a mistake. Two friends came to seek you. 
 You replied to them, before sitting down to dinner, that 
 you had a very important engagement to keep." 
 
 "That was only a polite way of getting rid of them." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Can you not understand, sir ? I was resigned, but 
 not comforted. I was learning to get accustomed to the 
 terrible blow. Would not one seek solitude in the great 
 crisis of one's life ? " 
 
 " The prosecution pretends that you wished to be left 
 alone, that you might go to La Jonchere. During the day, 
 
THE LEKOUUK CAS I:. 179 
 
 you said, ' She can not resist me.' Of whom were you 
 speaking ? " 
 
 " Of some one to whom I had written the evening before, 
 and who had replied to me. I spoke the words, with her 
 letter still in my hands." 
 
 ' This letter was, then, from a woman ? " 
 
 ' Yes." 
 
 ' What have you done with it ? " 
 
 ' I have burnt it." 
 
 'This precaution leads one to suppose that you con- 
 sidered the letter compromising." 
 
 " Not at all, sir ; it treated entirely of private matters." 
 
 M. Daburon was sure that this letter came from Made- 
 moiselle d'Arlange. Should he nevertheless ask the 
 question, and again hear pronounced the name of Claire, 
 which always aroused such painful emotions within him ? 
 He ventured to do so, leaning over his papers, so that the 
 prisoner could not detect his emotion. " From whom did 
 this letter come ? " he asked. 
 
 " From one whom I can not name." 
 
 " Sir," said the magistrate severely, " I will not conceal 
 from you that your position is greatly compromised. Do 
 not aggravate it by this culpable reticence. You are heie 
 to tell everything, sir." 
 
 "My own affairs, yes, not those of others." 
 
 Albert gave this last answer in a dry tone. He was 
 giddy, flurried, exasperated, by the prying and irritating 
 mode of the examination, which scarcely gave him time to 
 breathe. The magistrate's questions fell upon him more 
 thickly than the blows of the blacksmith's hammer upon 
 the red-hot iron which he is anxious to beat into shape be- 
 fore it cools. The apparent rebellion of his prisoner troub- 
 led M. Daburon a great deal. He was further extremely 
 surprised to find the discernment of the old detective at 
 fault ; just as though Tabaret were infallible. Tabaret had 
 predicted an unexceptionable alibi ; and this alibi was not 
 forthcoming. Why ? Had this subtle villain something bet- 
 ter than that ? What artful defence had he to fall back 
 upon ? Doubtless he kept in reserve some unforeseen 
 stroke, perhaps irresistible. 
 
 " Gently," thought the magistrate. " I have not got him 
 yet." Then he quickly added aloud : " Continue. After 
 dinner what did you do ? " 
 
I So THE I. E ROUGE C 
 
 " I Vvent out for a walk." 
 
 " Not immediately. The bottle emptied, you smoked a 
 cigar in the dining-room, which was so unusual as to be 
 noticed. What kind of cigars do you usually smoke ? " 
 
 " Trabucos." 
 
 " Do you not use a cigar-holder, to keep your lips from 
 contact with the tobacco ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Albert, much surprised at this series 
 of questions. 
 
 " At what time did you go out ? " 
 
 " About eight o'clock." 
 
 " Did you carry an umbrella ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Where drd you go ? " 
 
 " I walked about." 
 
 " Alone, without any object, all the evening ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Now trace out your wanderings for me very carefully." 
 
 " Ah, sir, that is very difficult to do ! I went out 
 simply to walk about, for the sake of exercise, to drive 
 away the torpor which had depressed me for three days. 
 I don't know whether you can picture to yourself my 
 exact condition. I was half out of my mind. I walked 
 about at hazard along the quays. I wandered through 
 the streets, " 
 
 " All that is very improbable," interrupted the magis- 
 trate. M. Daburon, however, knew that it was at least 
 possible. Had not he himself, one night, in a similar 
 condition, traversed all Paris ? What reply could he 
 have made, had some one asked him next morning where 
 he had been, except that he had not paid attention, and 
 did not know ? But he had forgotten this ; and his 
 previous hesitations, too, had all vanished. As the in- 
 quiry advanced, the fever of investigation took possession 
 of him. He enjoyed the emotions of the struggle, his 
 passion for his calling became stronger than ever. He 
 was again an investigating magistrate, like the fencing 
 master, who, once practising with his dearest friend, 
 became excited by the clash of the weapons, and, for- 
 getting himself, killed him. 
 
 " So," resumed M. Daburon, " you met absolutely no 
 one who can affirm that he saw you ? You did not speak 
 to a living soul ? You entered no place, not even a cafe, 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 181 
 
 or a theatre, or a tobacconist's to light one of your 
 favourite trabucos ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Well, it is a great misfortune for you, yes, a very 
 great misfortune ; for I must inform you, that it was pre- 
 cisely during this Tuesday evening, between eight o'clock 
 and midnight, that Widow Lerouge was assassinated. 
 Justice can point out the exact hour. Again, sir, in your 
 own interest, I recommend you to reflect, to make a 
 strong appeal to your memory." 
 
 This pointing out of the exact day and hour of the 
 murder seemed to astound Albert. He raised his hand 
 to his forehead with a despairing gesture. However he 
 replied in a calm voice, " I am very unfortunate, sir : 
 but I can recollect nothing." 
 
 M. Daburon's surprise was immense. What, not an 
 alibi ? Nothing ? This could be no snare nor system of 
 defence. Was, then, this man as cunning as he had 
 imagined ? Doubtless. Only he had been taken un- 
 awares. He had never imagined it possible for the 
 accusation to fall upon him ; and it was almost by a 
 miracle it had done so. The magistrate slowly raised, 
 one by one, the large pieces of paper that covered the 
 articles seized in Albert's rooms. " We will pass," he 
 continued, " to the examination of the charges which 
 weigh against you. Will you please come nearer ? Do 
 you recognize these articles as belonging to yourself ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, they are all mine." 
 
 " Well, take this foil. Who broke it ? " 
 
 " I, sir, in fencing with M. de Courtivois, who can bear 
 witness to it." 
 
 " He will be heard. Where is the broken end ? " 
 
 " I do not know. You must ask Lubin, my valet." 
 
 " Exactly. He declares that he has hunted for it, 
 and cannot find it. I must tell you that the victim re- 
 ceived the fatal blow from the sharpened end of a broken 
 foil. This piece of stuff, on which the assassin wiped his 
 weapon, is a proof of what I state." 
 
 " I beseech you, sir, to order a most minute search to 
 be made. It is impossible that the other half of the foil 
 is not to be found." 
 
 " Orders shall be given to that "effect. Look, here is 
 the exact imprint of the murderer's foot traced on this 
 
iSj TJIE LEKOU<JE CASE. 
 
 sheet of paper. I will place one of your boots upon it ; 
 and the sole, as you perceive, fits the tracing with the 
 utmost precision. This plaster was poured into the hollow 
 left by the heel : you observe that it is, in all respects, 
 similar in shape to the heels of your own boots. I per- 
 ceive, too, the mark of a peg, which appears in both." 
 
 Albert followed with marked anxiety every movement 
 of the magistrate. It was plain that he was struggling 
 against a growing terror. Was he attacked by that fright 
 which overpowers the guilty when they see themselves on 
 the point of being confounded. To all the magistrate's 
 remarks, he answered in a low voice, " It is true 
 perfectly true." 
 
 " That is so," continued M. Daburon ; " yet listen 
 further, before attempting to defend yourself. The crim- 
 inal had an umbrella. The end of this umbrella sank in 
 the clayey soil ; the round of wood which is placed at 
 the end of the silk, was found moulded in the clay. 
 Look at this clod of clay, raised with the utmost care ; 
 and now look at your umbrella. Compare the rounds. 
 Are they alike, or not ? " 
 
 " These things, sir," attempted Albert, " are manu- 
 factured in large quantities." 
 
 " Well, we will pass over that proof. Look at this 
 cigar end, found on the scene of the crime, and tell me 
 of what brand it is, and how it was smoked." 
 
 " It is a trabucos, and was smoked in a cigar-holder." 
 
 " Like these ? " persisted the magistrate, pointing to 
 the cigars and the amber and meerschaum-holders found 
 in the viscount's library. 
 
 " Yes ! " murmured Albert, " it is a fatality, a strange 
 coincidence." 
 
 " Patience ; that is nothing, as yet. The assassin wore 
 gloves. The victim, in the death struggle, seized his hands ; 
 and some pieces of kid remained in her nails. These have 
 been preserved, and are here. They are of a lavender 
 colour, are they not ? Now, here are the gloves which you 
 wore on Tuesday. They, too, are lavender, and they are 
 frayed. Compare these pieces of kid with your own gloves. 
 Do they not correspond ? Are they not of the same col- 
 our, the same skin ? " 
 
 It was useless to deny it, equivocate, or seek subterfuges. 
 The evidence was there, and it was irrefutable. While 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 183 
 
 appearing to occupy himself solely with the objects lying 
 upon his table, M. Daburon did not lose sight of the pris- 
 oner. Albert was terrified. A cold perspiration bathed 
 his temples, and glided drop by drop down his cheeks. 
 His hands trembled so much that they were of no use to 
 him. la a choking voice he kept repeating : " It is horri- 
 ble, horrible ! " 
 
 " Finally," pursued the inexorable magistrate, " here are 
 the trousers you wore on the evening of the murder. .It is 
 plain that not long ago they were very wet ; and, besides 
 the mud on them, there are traces of earth. Besides that, 
 they are torn at the knees. We will admit, for the moment, 
 that you might not. remember where you went on that eve- 
 ning ; but who would believe that you do not know where 
 you tore your trousers and how you frayed your gloves ! " 
 
 What courage could resist such assaults ? Albert's film- 
 ness and energy were at an end. His brain whirled. He 
 fell heavily into a chair, exclaiming, " It is enough to drive 
 me mad!" 
 
 " Do you admit," insisted the magistrate, whose gaze 
 had become firmly fixed upon the prisoner, "do you admit 
 that Widow Lerouge could only have been stabbed by you." 
 
 " I admit," protested Albert, " that I am the victim of 
 one of those terrible fatalities which make men doubt the 
 evidence of their reason. I am innocent." 
 
 " Then tell me where you passed Tuesday evening." 
 
 "Ah, sir!" cried the prisoner, "I should have to " 
 But, restraining himself, he added in a faint voice, " I have 
 made the only answer that I can make." 
 
 M. Daburon rose, having now reached his grand stroke. 
 " It is, then, my duty," said he, with a shade of irony, " to 
 supply your failure of memory. I am going to remind you 
 of where you went and what you did. On Tuesday evening, 
 at eight o'clock, after having obtained from the wine you 
 drank, the dreadful energy you needed, you left your home. 
 At thirty-five minutes past eight, you took the train at the 
 St. Lazare station. At nine o'clock, you alighted at the 
 station at Reuil." And, not disdaining to employ old 
 Tabaret's ideas, the investigating magistrate repeated 
 nearly word for word the tirade improvised the night before 
 by the amateur detective. 
 
 He had every reason, while speaking, to admire the old 
 fellow's penetration. In all his life, his eloquence had 
 
184 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 never produced so striking an effect. Every sentence, 
 every word, told. The prisoner's assurance, already shaken, 
 fell little by little, just like the outer coating of a wall when 
 riddled with bullets. Albert was, as the magistrate per- 
 ceived, like a man, who, rolling to the bottom of a precipice, 
 sees every branch and every projecture which might retard 
 his fall fail him, and who feels a new and more painful 
 bruise each time his body comes in contact with them. 
 
 " And now," concluded the investigating magistrate, 
 " listen to good advice : do not persist in a system of deny- 
 ing, impossible to sustain. Give in. Justice, rest assured, 
 is ignorant of nothing which it is important to know. Be- 
 lieve me; seek to deserve the indulgence of your judges ; 
 confess your guilt." 
 
 M. Daburon did not believe that his prisoner would still 
 persist in asserting .his innocence. He imagined he would 
 be overwhelmed and confounded, that he would throw 
 himself at his feet, begging for mercy. But he was mis- 
 taken. Albert, in spite of his great prostration, found, in 
 one last effort of his will, sufficient strength to recover him- 
 self and again protest, " You are right, sir," he said in a 
 sad, but firm voice ; " everything seems to prove me guilty. 
 In your place, I should have spoken as you have done ; yet 
 all the same, I swear to you that I am innocent." 
 
 "Come now, do you really " began the magistrate. 
 
 " I am innocent," interrupted Albert ; " and I repeat it, 
 without the least hope of changing in any way your con- 
 viction. Yes, everything speaks against me, everything, 
 even my own bearing before you. It is true, my courage 
 has been shaken by these incredible, miraculous, over- 
 whelming coincidences. I am overcome, because I feel 
 the impossibility of proving my innocence. But I do not 
 despair. My honour and my life are in the hands of God. 
 At this very hour when to you I appear lost, for I in no 
 way deceive myself, sir, I do not despair of a complete 
 justification. I await confidently." 
 
 ' What do you mean ? " asked the magistrate. 
 
 ' Nothing but what I say, sir." 
 
 ' So you persist in denying your guilt ? " 
 
 ' I am innocent." 
 
 ! But this is folly" 
 
 ' I am innocent." 
 
 ' Very well," said M. Daburon ; " that is enough for to- 
 
THE LR ROUGE CASE, 185 
 
 day. You will hear the official report of your examination 
 read, and will I hen be taken back to solitary confinement. 
 I exhort you to reflect. Night will perhaps bring on a 
 better feeling ; if you wish at any time to speak to me, 
 send word, and I will come to you. I will give orders to 
 that effect. You may read now, Constant." 
 
 When Albert had departed under the escort of the gen- 
 darmes, the magistrate muttered in a low tone, " There's 
 an obstinate fellow for you." He certainly no longer 
 entertained the shadow of a doubt. To him, Albert was 
 as surely the murderer as if he had admitted his guilt. 
 Even if he should persist in his system of denial to the end 
 of the investigation, it was impossible, that, with the proofs 
 already in the possession of the police, a true bill should 
 not be found against him. He was therefore certain of 
 being committed for trial at the assizes. It was a hundred 
 to one, that the jury would bring in a verdict of guilty. 
 Left to himself, however, M. Daburon did not experience 
 that intense satisfaction, mixed with vanity, which he 
 ordinarily felt after he had successfully conducted an 
 examination, and had succeeded in getting his prisoner into 
 the same position as Albert. Something disturbed and 
 shocked him. At the bottom of his heart, he feit ill at 
 ease. He had triumphed ; but his victory gave him only 
 uneasiness, pain, and vexation, A reflection so simple that 
 he could hardly understand why it had not occurred to him 
 at first, increased his discontent, and made him angry with 
 himself. " Something told me," he muttered, " that I was 
 wrong to undertake this business. I am punished for not 
 having obeyed that inner voice. I ought to have declined 
 to proceed with the investigation. The Viscount de Com- 
 marin, was, all the same, certain to be arrested, imprisoned, 
 examined, confounded, tried, and probably condemned. 
 Then, being in no way connected with the trial, I could 
 have reappeared before Claire. Her grier will be great. 
 As her friend, I could have soothed her, mingled my tears 
 with hers, calmed her regrets. With time, she might have 
 been consoled, and perhaps have forgotten him. She 
 could not have helped feeling grateful to me, and then who 
 knows ? While now, whatever may happen, I shall be an 
 object of loathing to her : she will never be able to endure 
 the sight of me. In her eyes I shall always be her lover's 
 assassin. I have with my own hands opened an abyss 
 
i86 THE LEKOUGE CASE, 
 
 between her and myself which centuries could not fill up. 
 I have lost her a second time, and by my own fault." The 
 unhappy man heaped the bitterest reproaches upon himself. 
 He was in despair. He had never so hated Albert, that 
 wretch, who, stained with a crime, stood in the way of his 
 happiness. Then too he cursed old Tabaret ! Alone, he 
 would not have decided so quickly. He would have waited, 
 thought over the matter, matured his decision, and certainly 
 have perceived the inconveniences, which now occurred to 
 him. The old fellow, always carried away like a badly 
 trained bloodhound, and full of stupid enthusiasm, had 
 confused him, and led him to do what he now so much 
 regretted. 
 
 It was precisely this unfavorable moment that M. Taba- 
 ret chose for reappearing before the magistrate. He had 
 just been informed of the termination of the inquiry ; and 
 he arrived, impatient to know what had passed, swelling 
 with curiosity, and full of the sweet hope of hearing of the 
 fulfilment of his predictions. "What answers did he 
 make ? " he asked even before he had closed the door. 
 
 " He is evidently guilty," replied the magistrate, with a 
 harshness very different to his usual manner. 
 
 Old Tabaret, who expected to receive praises by the 
 basketful, was astounded at this tone ! It was therefore, 
 with great hesitancy that he offered his further services. 
 " I have come," he said modestly, " to know if any investi- 
 gations are necessary to demolish the alibi pleaded by the 
 prisoner." 
 
 " He pleaded no alibi," replied the magistrate, dryly. 
 
 " How," cried the detective, " no alibi ? Pshaw ! I ask 
 pardon : he has of course then confessed everything." 
 
 "No," said the magistrate impatiently, "he has con- 
 fessed nothing. He acknowledges that the proofs are de- 
 cisive : he cannot give an account of how he spent his time ; 
 but he protests his innocence." 
 
 In the centre of the room, M. Tabaret stood with his 
 mouth wide open, and his eyes staring wildly, and alto- 
 gether in the most grotesque attitude his astonishment 
 could effect. He was literally thunderstruck. In spite of 
 his anger, M. Daburon could not help smiling : and even 
 Constant gave a grin, which on his lips was equivalent to a 
 paroxysm of laughter. 
 
 " Not an alibi, nothing ? " murmured the old fellow, 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 187 
 
 "No explanations? The idea! It is inconceivable! 
 Not an alibi ? We must then be mistaken : he cannot be 
 the criminal. That is certain ! " 
 
 The investigating magistrate felt that the old amateur 
 must have been waiting the result of the examination at the 
 wine shop round the corner, or else that he had gone mad. 
 " Unfortunately," said he, " we are not mistaken. It is but 
 too clearly shown that M. de Commarin is the murderer. 
 However, if you like, you can ask Constant for his report 
 of the examination, and read it over while I put these 
 papers in order." 
 
 "Very well," said the old fellow with feverish anxiety. 
 
 He sat down in Constant's chair, and, leaning his elbows 
 on the table, thrusting his hands in his hair, he in less 
 than no time read the report through. When he had fin- 
 ished, he arose with pale and distorted features. " Sir," 
 said he to the magistrate in a strange voice, " I have been 
 the involuntary cause of a terrible mistake. This man is 
 innocent." 
 
 " Come, come," said M. Daburon, without stopping his 
 preparations for departure, " you are going out of your 
 mind, my dear M. Tabaret. How, after all that you have 
 read there, can " 
 
 " Yes, sir, yes : it is because I have read this that I 
 entreat you to pause, or we shall add one more mistake to 
 the sad list of judicial errors. Read this examination over 
 carefully ; there is not a reply but which declares this un- 
 fortunate man innocent, not a word but which throws out 
 a ray of light. And he is still in prison, still in solitary 
 confinement? " 
 
 " He is ; and there he will remain, if you please," inter- 
 rupted the magistrate. " It becomes you well to talk in 
 this manner, after the way you spoke last night, when I 
 hesitated so much." 
 
 "But, sir," cried the old detective, " I still say precisely 
 the same. Ah, wretched Tabaret ! all is lost , no one un- 
 derstands you. Pardon me, sir, if I lack the respect due 
 to you; but you have not grasped my method. It is, how- 
 ever, very simple. Given a crime, with all the circum- 
 stances and details, I construct, bit by bit, a plan of accu- 
 sation, which I do not guarantee until it is entire and per- 
 fect. If a man is found to whom this plan applies exactly 
 in every particular the author of the crime is found : other- 
 
188 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 wise, one has laid hands upon an innocent person. It is 
 not sufficient that such and such particulars seem to point 
 to him ; it must be all or nothing. This is infallible. 
 Now, in this case, how have I reached the culprit ? 
 Through proceeding by inference from the known to the 
 unknown. I have examined his work ; and I have formed 
 an idea of the worker. Reason and logic lead us to what ? 
 To a villain, determined, audacious, and prudent, versed 
 in the business. And do you think that such a man would 
 neglect a precaution that would not be omitted by the stupid- 
 est tyro ? It is inconceivable. What ! this man is so 
 skillful as to leave such feeble traces that they escape Gev- 
 rol's practised eye, and you think he would risk his safety 
 by leaving an entire night unaccounted for ? It's impossi- 
 ble ! I am as sure of my system as of a sum that has 
 been proved. The assassin has an alibi. Albert has 
 pleaded none ; then he is innocent." 
 
 M. Daburon surveyed the detective pityingly, much as he 
 would have looked at a remarkable monomaniac. When 
 the old fellow had finished, " My worthy M. Tabaret," the 
 magistrate said to him : " you have but one fault. You 
 err through an excess of subtlety, accord too freely to 
 others the wonderful sagacity with which you yourself 
 are endowed. Our man has failed in prudence, simply 
 because he believed his rank would place him above sus- 
 picion." 
 
 "No, sir, no, a thousand times no. My culprit, the 
 true one, he whom we have missed catching, feared every- 
 thing. Besides, does Albert defend himself ? No. He is 
 overwhelmed because he perceives coincidences so fatal 
 that they appear to condemn him, without a chance of es 
 cape. Does he try to excuse himself ? No. He simply 
 replies, 'It is terrible.' And yet all through his examina- 
 tion J feel reticence that I cannot explain." 
 
 " I can explain it very easily ; and I am as confident as 
 though he had confessed everything. I have more than 
 sufficient proofs for that." 
 
 " Ah, sir, proofs ! There are always enough of those 
 against an arrested man. They existed against every in- 
 nocent man who was ever condemned. Proofs ! Why, I 
 had them in quantities against Kaiser, the poor little 
 tailor, who " 
 
 "Well," interrupted the magistrate, hastily, "if it is not 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 189 
 
 he, the most interested one, who committed the crime, 
 who then is it ? His father, the Count de Commarin ? " 
 
 " No : the true assassin is a young man." 
 
 M. Daburon had arranged his papers, and finished his 
 preparations. He took up his hat, and, as he prepared to 
 leave, replied : " You must then see that I am right ! 
 Come, good-bye, M. Tabaret, and make haste and get 
 rid of all your foolish ideas. To-morrow we will talk the 
 whole matter over again. I am rather tired to-night." 
 Then he added, addressing his clerk, " Constant, look in 
 at the record office, in case the prisoner Commarin should 
 wish to speak to me." 
 
 He moved towards the door ; but M. Tabaret barred his 
 exit. " Sir," said the old man, " in the name of heaven 
 listen to me ! He is innocent, I swear to you. Help me, 
 then, to find the real culprit. Sir, think of your remorse 
 should you cause an " 
 
 But the magistrate would not hear more. He pushed 
 old Tabaret quickly aside, and hurried out. The old man 
 now turned to Constant. He wished to convince him. 
 Lost trouble : the tall clerk hastened to put his things 
 away, thinking of his soup, which was getting cold. So 
 that M. Tabaret soon found himself locked out of the 
 room and alone in the dark passage. All the usual sounds 
 of the Palais had ceased : the place was silent as the tomb. 
 The old detective desperately tore his hair with both hands. 
 "Ah ! " he exclaimed, " Albert is innocent ; and it is I who 
 have cast suspicion upon him. It is I, fool that I am, who 
 have infused into the obstinate spirit of this magistrate a 
 conviction that I can no longer destroy. He is innocent, 
 and is yet enduring the most horrible anguish. Suppose 
 he should commit suicide ! There have been instances of 
 wretched men, who in despair at being falsely accused 
 have killed themselves in their cells. Poor boy ! But I 
 will not abandon him. I have ruined him : I will save 
 him ! I must, I will find the culprit ; and he shall pa) 
 dearly for my mistake, the scoundrel ! " 
 
 XIII. 
 
 AFTER seeing the Count de Commarin safely in his car- 
 riage at the entrance of the Palais de Justice, Noel Gerdy 
 seemed inclined to leave him. Resting one hand against 
 
190 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 the half-opened carriage door, he bowed respectfully, and 
 said : " When, sir, shall I have the honor of paying my 
 respects to you ? " 
 
 " Come with me now," said the old nobleman. 
 
 The barrister, still leaning forward, muttered some ex- 
 cuses. He had, he said, important business : he must posi- 
 tively return home at once. 
 
 "Come," repeated the count, in a tone which admitted 
 of no reply. 
 
 Noel obeyed. 
 
 " You have found your father," said M. de Commarin in 
 a low tone ; " but I must warn you, that at the same time 
 you lose your independence." 
 
 The carriage started ; and only then did the count notice 
 that Noel had very modestly seated hirflself opposite him. 
 This humility seemed to displease him greatly. " Sit here 
 by my side, sir," he exclaimed ; " are you not my son ? " 
 
 The barrister, without replying, took his seat by the side 
 of the terrible old man, but occupied as little room as pos- 
 sible. He had been very much upset by his interview 
 with M. Daburon ; for he retained none of his usual assur- 
 ance, none of that exterior coolness by which he was ac 
 customed to conceal his feelings. Fortunately, the ride 
 gave him time to breathe, and to recover himself a little. 
 On the way from the Palais de Justice to the De Commarin 
 mansion, not a word passed between the father and son. 
 When the carriage stopped before the steps leading to the 
 principal entrance, and the count got out with Noel's as- 
 sistance, there was great commotion among the servants. 
 There were, it is true, few of them present, nearly all hav- 
 ing been summoned to the Palais ; but the count and the 
 barrister had scarcely disappeared, when, as if by enchant- 
 ment, they were all assembled in the hall. They came 
 from the garden, the stables, the cellar, and the kitchen. 
 Nearly all bore marks of their calling. A young groom 
 appeared with his wooden shoes filled with straw, shuffling 
 about on the marble floor like a mangy dog on a Gobelin 
 tapestry. One of them recognised Noel as the visitor of 
 the previous Sunday ; and that was enough to set fire to all 
 these gossip-mongers, thirsting for scandal. 
 
 Since morning, moreover, the unusual events at the De 
 Commarin mansion had caused a great stir in society. A 
 thousand stories were circulated, talked over, corrected, 
 
THE LEKOL'GE CASE. I 9 t 
 
 and added to by the ill-natured and malicious, some 
 abominably absurd, others simply idiotic. Twenty people, 
 very noble and still more proud, had not been above send- 
 ing their most intelligent servants to pay a little visit 
 among the count's retainers, for the sole purpose of learn- 
 ing something positive. As it was, nobody knew anything ; 
 and yet everybody pretended to be fully informed. Let 
 any one explain who can this very common phenomenon : 
 A crime is committed ; justice arrives, wrapped in mystery ; 
 the police are still ignorant of almost everything ; and yet 
 details of the most minute character are already circulated 
 about the streets. 
 
 " So," said a cook, " that tall dark fellow with the whis- 
 kers is the count's true son ! " 
 
 " You are right," said one of the footmen who had 
 accompanied M. de Commarin ; " as for the other, he is 
 no more his son than Jean here ; who, by the way, will be 
 kicked out of doors, if he is caught in this part of the 
 house with his dirty working-shoes on." 
 
 " What a romance," exclaimed Jean, supremely indiffer- 
 ent to the danger which threatened him. 
 
 " Such things constantly occur in great families," said 
 the cook. 
 
 " How ever did it happen ? '' 
 
 " Well, you see, one day, long ago, when the countess 
 who is now dead was out walking with her little son, who 
 was about six months old, the child was stolen by gipsies. 
 The poor lady was full of grief; but above all, was greatly 
 afraid of her husband, who was not over kind. What did 
 she do ? She purchased a brat from a woman, who hap- 
 pened to be passing ; and, never having noticed his child, 
 the count has never known the difference." 
 " But the assassination ! " 
 
 " That's very simple. When the woman saw her brat 
 in such a nice berth, she bled him finely, and has kept up 
 a system of blackmailing all along. The viscount had 
 nothing left for himself. So he resolved at last to put an 
 end to it, and come to a final settling with her." 
 
 " And the other, who is up there, the dark fellow ? " 
 
 The orator would have gone on, without doubt, giving 
 
 the most satisfactory explanations of everything, if he had 
 
 not been interrupted by the entrance of M. Lubin, who 
 
 came from Palais in company of young Joseph. His sue 
 
192 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 cess, so brilliant up to this time, was cut s*hort, just like 
 that of a second-rate singer when the star of the evening 
 comes on the stage. The entire assembly turned towards 
 Albert's valet, all eyes questioning him. He of course 
 knew all, he was the man they wanted. He did not take 
 advantage of his position, and keep them waiting. 
 
 " What a rascal ! " he exclaimed at first. "What a vil- 
 lainous fellow is this Albert ! " He entirely did away with 
 the " Mr." and the " Viscount," and met with general 
 approval for doing so. " However," he added, " I always 
 had my doubts. The fellow didn't please me by half. 
 You see now to what we are exposed every day in our pro- 
 fession, and it is dreadfully disagreeable. The magistrate 
 did not conceal it from me. ' M. Lubin,' said he, ' it is 
 very sad for a man like you to have waited on such a 
 scoundrel.' For you must know, that, besides an old 
 woman over eighty years old, he also assassinated a young 
 girl of twelve. The little child, the magistrate told me, 
 was chopped into bits." 
 
 " Ah ! " put in Joseph : " he must have been a great fool. 
 Do people do those sort of things themselves when they are 
 rich, and when there are so many poor devils who only 
 ask to gain their living ? " 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said M. Lubin in a-knowing tone ; " you will 
 see him come out of it as white as snow. These rich 
 men can do anything." 
 
 " Anyhow," said the cook, " I'd willingly give a month's 
 wages to be a mouse, and to listen to what the count and 
 the tall dark fellow are talking about. Suppose some one 
 went up and tried to find out what is going on." 
 
 This proposition did not meet with the least favour. 
 The servants knew by experience that, on important occa- 
 sions, spying was worse than useless. M. de Commarin 
 knew all about servants from infancy. His study was, 
 therefore, a shelter from all indiscretion. The sharpest 
 ear placed at the keyhole could hear nothing of what was 
 going on within, even when the master was in a passion, 
 and his voice loudest. One alone, Denis, the count's 
 valet, had the opportunity of gathering information ; but 
 he was well paid to be discreet, and he was so. At 
 this moment, M. de Commarin was sitting in the same 
 arm-chair on which the evening before he had bestowed 
 such furious blows while listening to Albert. As soon as 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 193 
 
 he left his carriage, the old nobleman recovered his hauti- 
 ness. He became even more arrogant in his manner, 
 than he had been humble when before the magistrate, as 
 though he were ashamed of what he now considered an 
 unpardonable weakness. He wondered how he could have 
 yielded to a momentary impulse, how his grief could have 
 so basely betrayed him. At the remembrance of the 
 avowals wrested from him by a sort of delirium, he blushed, 
 and reproached himself bitterly. The same as Albert, the 
 night before, Noel having fully recovered himself, stood 
 erect, cold as marble, respectful, but no longer humble. 
 The father and son exchanged glances which had nothing 
 of sympathy nor friendliness. They examined one another, 
 they almost measured each other, much as two adversaries 
 feel their way with their eyes before encountering with 
 their weapons. 
 
 " Sir," said the count at length in a harsh voice, " hence- 
 forth this house is yours. From this moment you are the 
 Viscount de Commarin ; you regain possession of all the 
 rights of which you were deprived. Listen, before you 
 thank me. I wish, at once, to relieve you of all misunder- 
 standing. Remember this well, sir ; had I been master of 
 the situation, I would never have recognised you : Albert 
 should have remained in the position in which I placed 
 him." 
 
 " I understand you, sir," replied Noel. " I don't think 
 that I could ever bring myself to do an act like that by 
 which you deprived me of my birthright ; but I declare 
 that, if I had the misfortune to do so, I should afterwards 
 have acted as you have. Your rank was too conspicuous 
 to permit a voluntary acknowledgment. It was a thou- 
 sand times better to suffer an injustice to continue in 
 secret, than to expose the name to the comments of the 
 malicious." 
 
 This answer surprised the count, and very agreeably too. 
 But he would not let his satisfaction be seen, and it was 
 in a still harsher voice that he resumed. " I have no 
 claim, sir, upon your affection ; I do not ask for it, but I 
 insist at all times upon the utmost deference. It is tra- 
 ditional in our house, that a son shall never interrupt his 
 father when he is speaking; that, you have just been 
 guilty of. Neither do children judge their parents : that 
 also you have just done. When I was forty years of age, 
 
 '3 
 
194 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 my father was in his second childhood ; but I do not 
 remember ever having raised my voice above his. This 
 said, I continue. I provided the necessary funds for the 
 expenses of Albert's household completely, distinct from 
 my own, for he had his own servants, horses, and car- 
 riages ; and besides that I allowed the unhappy boy four 
 thousand francs a month. I have decided in order to put 
 a stop to all foolish gossip, and to make your position the 
 easier, that you should live on a grander scale ; this mat- 
 ter concerns myself. Further, I will increase your month- 
 ly allowance to six thousand francs ; which I trust you will 
 spend as nobly as possible, giving the least possible cause 
 for ridicule. I cannot too strongly exhort you to the 
 utmost caution. Keep close watch over yourself. Weigh 
 your words well. Study your slightest actions. You will 
 be the point of observation of the thousands of imperti- 
 nent idlers who compose our world ; your blunders will be 
 their delight. Do you fence ? " 
 
 " Moderately well." 
 
 " That will do ! Do you ride ? " 
 
 " No ; but in six months I will be a good horseman, or 
 break my neck." 
 
 " You must become a horseman, and not break anything. 
 Let us proceed. You will, of course, not occupy Albert's 
 apartments. They will be walled off, as soon as I am free 
 of the police. Thank heaven ! the house is large. You 
 will occupy the other wing : and there will be a separate 
 entrance to your apartments, by another staircase. Ser- 
 vants, horses, carriages, furniture, such as become a vis- 
 count, will be at your service, cost what it may, within 
 forty-eight hours. On the day of your taking possession, 
 you must look as though you had been installed there for 
 years. There will be a great scandal : but that cannot be 
 avoided. A prudent father might send you away for a few 
 months to the Austrian or Russian courts : but, in this 
 instance, such prudence would be absurd. Much better a 
 dreadful outcry, which ends quickly, than low murmurs 
 which last for ever. Dare public opinion ; and, in eight 
 days, it will have exhausted its comments, and the story 
 will have become old. So, to work ! This very evening 
 the workmen shall be here : and, in the first place, 
 I must present you to my servants." 
 
 To put his purpose into execution, the count moved to 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 195 
 
 touch the bell-iope. Noel stopped him. Since the com- 
 mencement of this interview, the barrister had wandered in 
 the regions of the thousand and one nights, the wonderful 
 lamp in his hand. The fairy reality cast into the shade 
 his wildest dreams. He was dazzled by the count's words, 
 and had need of all his reason to struggle against the gid- 
 diness which came over him, on realising his great good 
 fortune. Touched by a magic wand, he seemed to awake 
 to a thousand novel and unknown sensations. He rolled 
 in purple, and bathed in gold. But he knew how to ap- 
 pear unmoved. His face had contracted the habit of 
 guarding the secret of the most violent internal excite- 
 ment. While all his passions vibrated within him, he ap- 
 peared to listen with a sad and almost indifferent coldness. 
 " Permit me, sir," he said to the count " without overstep- 
 ping the bounds of the utmost respect, to say a few words. 
 I am touched more than I can express by your goodness ; 
 and yet I beseech you, to delay its manifestation. The 
 proposition I am about to suggest may perhaps appear to 
 you worthy of consideration. It seems to me that the sit- 
 uation demands the greatest delicacy on my part. It is 
 well to despise public opinion, but not to defy it. I am 
 certain to be judged with the utmost severity. If I install 
 myself so suddenly in your house, what will be said ? I 
 shall have the appearance of a conqueror, who thinks little, 
 so long as he succeeds, of passing over the body of the 
 conquered. They will reproach me with occupying the bed 
 still warm from Albert's body. They will jest bitterly at 
 my haste in taking possession. They will certainly com- 
 pare me to Albert, and the comparison will be to my dis- 
 advantage, since I should appear to triumph at a time 
 when a great disaster has fallen upon our house." 
 
 The count listened without showing any signs of disap- 
 probation, struck perhaps by the justice of these reasons. 
 Noel imagined that his harshness was much more feigned 
 than real ; and this idea encouraged him. 
 
 " I beseech you then, sir," he continued, " to permit me 
 for the present in no way to change my mode of living. 
 By not showing myself, I leave all malicious remarks to 
 waste themselves in air, I let public opinion the better 
 familiarise itself with the idea of a coming change. There 
 is a great deal in not taking the world by surprise. Being 
 expected, I shall not have the air of an intruder on pre- 
 
196 7 '//A' LEKOUUE CASK. 
 
 senting myself. Absent, I shall have the advantages 
 which the unknown always possess; I shall obtain the 
 good opinion of all those who have envied Albert ; and I 
 shall secure as champions all those who would to-morrow 
 assa 1 me, if my elevation came suddenly upon them. H 
 sides, by this delay, I shall accustom myself to my abrupt 
 change of fortune. I ought not to bring into your world, 
 which is now mine, the manners of a parvenu. My 
 name ought not to inconvenience me, like a badly fitting 
 coat." 
 
 " Perhaps it would be wisest," murmured the count. 
 
 This assent, so easily obtained, surprised Noel. He got 
 the idea that the count had only wished to prove him, to 
 tempt him. In any case, whether he had triumphed by his 
 eloquence, or whether he had simply shunned a trap, he 
 had succeeded. His confidence increased ; he recovered 
 all his former assurance. 
 
 " I must add, sir," he continued, " that there are a few 
 matters concerning myself which demand my attention. 
 Before entering upon my new life, 1 must think of those 1 
 am leaving behind me. I have friends and clients. This 
 event has surprised me, just as I am beginning to reap the 
 reward of ten years of hard work and perseverance. I 
 have as yet only sown ; I am on the point of reaping. My 
 name is already known ; I have obtained some little influ- 
 ence. I confess, without shame, that I have heretofore 
 professed ideas and opinions that would not be suited to 
 this house ; and it is impossible in the space of a day " 
 
 " Ah \ " interrupted the count in a bantering tone, " you 
 are a liberal. It is a fashionable disease. Albert also was 
 a great liberal." 
 
 " My ideas, sir," said Noel quickly, " were those of every 
 intelligent man who wishes to succeed. Besides, have not 
 all parties one and the same aim power? They merely 
 take different means of reaching it. I will not enlarge 
 upon this subject. Be assured, sir, that I shall know how 
 to bear my name, and think and act as a man of my rank 
 should." 
 
 " I trust so," said M. de Commarin ; " and I hope that 
 you will never make me regret Albert.'* 
 
 " At least, sir, it will not be my fault. But, since you 
 have mentioned the name of that unfortunate young man, 
 let us occupy ourselves about him." 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 197 
 
 The count east a look of distrust upon Noel. " What 
 can now be done for Albert ? " he asked. 
 
 " What, sir ! " cried Noel with ardour, " would you 
 abandon him, when he has not a friend left in the world ? 
 He is still your son, sir, he is my brother; for thirty years 
 he has borne the name of Commarin. All the members 
 of a family are jointly liable. Innocent, or guilty, he has 
 a right to count upon us ; and we owe him our assist- 
 ance." 
 
 " What do you then hope for, sir ? " asked the count. 
 
 " To save him, if he is innocent ; and I love to believe 
 that he is. I am a barrister, sir, and I wish to defend him. 
 I have been told that I have some talent ; in such a cause 
 I must have. Yes, however strong the charges against 
 him may be, I will overthrow them. I will dispel all 
 doubts. The truth shall burst forth at the sound of my 
 voice. I will find new accents to imbue the judges with 
 my own conviction. I will save him, and this shall be 
 my last cause." 
 
 " And if he should confess," said the count, " if he has 
 already confessed ? " 
 
 " Then, sir," replied Noel with a dark look, " I will 
 render him the last service, which in such a misfortune I 
 should ask of a brother, I will procure him the means of 
 avoiding judgment." 
 
 " That is well spoken, sir," said the count, " very well, 
 my son ! " 
 
 And he held out his hand to Noel, who pressed it, bow- 
 ing a respectful acknowledgment. The barrister took a 
 long breath. At last he had found the way to this haughty 
 noble's heart ; he had conquered, he had pleased him. 
 
 "Let us return to yourself, sir," continued the count. 
 " I yield to the reasons which you have suggested. All 
 shall be done as you desire. But do not consider this a 
 precedent. I never change my plans, even though they 
 are proved to be bad, and contrary to my interests. But 
 at least nothing prevents your remaining here from to-day, 
 and taking your meals with me. We will, first of all, see 
 where you can be lodged, until you formally take posses- 
 sion of the apartments which are to be prepared for you." 
 
 Noel had the hardihood to again interrupt the old noble- 
 man. " Sir," said he, " when you bade me follow you 
 here, I obeyed you, as was my duty. Now another and a 
 
198 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 sacred duty calls me away. Madame Gerdy is at this 
 moment dying. Ought I to leave the deathbed of her \vh 
 filled my mother's place ? " 
 
 " Valerie ! " murmured the count. He leaned upon tin 
 arm of his chair, his face buried in his hands ; in one mo- 
 ment the whole past rose up before him. " She has clone 
 me great harm," he murmured, as if answering his thoughts. 
 " She has ruined my whole life ; but ought I to be implaca- 
 ble ? She is dying from the accusation which is hanging 
 over Albert our son. It was I who was the cause of it all. 
 Doubtless, in this last hour, a word from me would be a 
 great consolation to her. I will accompany you, sir." 
 
 Noel started at this unexpected proposal. "Osir!" 
 said he hastily, "spare yourself, pray, a heart-rending 
 sight. Your going would be useless. Madame Gerdy 
 exists probably still ; but her mind is dead. Her brain 
 was unable to resist so violent a shock. The unfortunate 
 woman would neither recognise nor understand you." 
 
 " Go then alone," sighed the count, "go, my son ! " 
 
 The words " my son," pronounced with a marked em- 
 phasis, sounded like a note of victory in Noel's ears. He 
 bowed to take his leave. The count motioned him to wait. 
 " In any case," he said, " a place at table will be set for 
 you here. I dine at half-past six precisely. I shall be 
 glad to see you." 
 
 He rang. His valet appeared. 
 
 " Denis," said he, " none of the orders I may give will 
 &ilect this gentleman. You willtell this to all the servants. 
 This gentleman is at home here." 
 
 The barrister took his leave ; and the count felt great 
 comfort in being once more alone. Since morning, events 
 had followed one another with such bewildering rapidity 
 that his thoughts could scarcely keep pace with them. 
 At last, he was able to reflect. " That, then," said he to 
 himself, " is my legitimate son. I am sure of his birth, at 
 any rate. Besides 1 should be foolish to disown him, for 
 I find him the exact picture of myself r,t thirty. He is a 
 handsome fellow, Noel, very handsome. His features are 
 decidedly in his favour. He is intelligent and acute. He 
 knows how to be humble without lowering himself, and 
 firm without arrogance. His unexpected good fortune 
 does not turn his head. I augur well of a man who knows 
 how to bear himself in prosperity. He thinks well ; he 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 199 
 
 will carry his title proudly. And yet I feel no sympathy 
 with him , it seems to me that I shall always regret my 
 poor Albert. 1 never knew how to appreciate him. Un 
 happy boy! To commit such a vile crime! He must 
 have lost his reason. I do not like the look of this one's 
 eye. They say that he is perfect. He expresses, at least, 
 the noblest and most appropriate sentiments. He is gentle 
 and strong, magnanimous, generous, heroic. He is with 
 out malice, and is ready to sacrifice himself to repay me 
 for what I have done for him. He forgives Madame 
 Gerdy : he loves Albert. It is enough to make one dis- 
 trust him. But all young men now-a-days are so. Ah ! 
 we live in a happy age. Our children are -born free from 
 all human shortcomings. They have neither the vices, 
 the passions, nor the tempers of their fathers ; and these 
 precocious philosophers, models of sagacity and virtue, 
 are incapable of commiting the least folly. Alas ! Albert, 
 too, was perfect ; and he has assassinated Claudine ! 
 What will this one do ? All the same," he added, half- 
 aloud, " I ought to have accompanied him to see Valerie ! " 
 And, although the barrister had been gone at least a good 
 ten minutes, M. de Commarin, not realising how the time 
 had passed, hastened to the window, in the hope of seeing 
 Noel in the court-yard, and calling him back. 
 
 But Noel was already far away. On leaving the house, 
 he took a cab in the Rue de Bourgogne, and was quickly 
 driven to the Rue St. Lazare. On reaching his own door, 
 \he threw rather than gave five francs to the driver, and 
 ran rapidly up the four flights of stairs. " Who has called 
 to see me ? " he asked of the servant. 
 
 " No one, sir." 
 
 He seemed relieved from a great anxiety, and continued 
 in a calmer tone, " And the doctor ? " 
 
 "He came this morning, sir," replied the girl, "while 
 you were out , and he did not seem at all hopeful. He 
 came again just now, and is still here." 
 
 "Very well. I will go and speak to him. If any one 
 calls, show them into my study, and let me know." 
 
 On entering Madame Gerdy's chamber, Noel saw at a 
 glance that no change for the better had taken place during 
 his absence. With fixed eyes and convulsed features, the 
 sick woman lay extended upon her back. She seemed 
 dead, save for the sudden starts, which shook her at inter 
 
roj THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 vals, and disarranged the bedclothes. Above her head 
 was placed a little vessel, filled with ice water, which fell 
 drop by drop upon her forehead, covered with large bluish 
 spots. The table and mantel-piece were covered with lit- 
 tle pots, medicine bottles, and half-emptied glasses. At 
 the foot of the bed, a piece of rag stained with blood showed 
 that the doctor had just had recourse to leeches. Near 
 the fireplace, where was blazing a large fire, a nun of the 
 order of St. Vincent de Paul was kneeling, watching a 
 saucepan. She was a young woman, with a face whiter 
 than her cap. Her immovably placid features, her mourn- 
 ful look, betokened the renunciation of the flesh, and the 
 abdication of all independence of thought. Her heavy 
 grey costume hung about her in large ungraceful folds. 
 Every time she moved, her long chaplet of beads of col- 
 oured box-wood, loaded with crosses and copper medals, 
 shook and trailed along the floor with a noise like a jing- 
 ling of chains. 
 
 Dr. Herve was seated on a chair opposite the bed, watch- 
 ing, apparently with close attention, the nun's preparations. 
 He jumped up as Noel entered. " At last you are here," 
 he said, giving his friend a strong grasp of the hand. 
 
 " I was detained at the Palais," said the barrister, as if 
 he felt the necessity of explaining his absence ; " and I 
 have been, as you may well imagine, dreadfully anxious." 
 He leant towards the doctor's ear, and in a trembling voice 
 asked : " Well, is she at all better ? " 
 
 The doctor shook his head with an air of deep discour- 
 agement. " She is much worse," he replied : " since morn- 
 ing bad symptoms have succeeded each other with fright- 
 ful rapidity." He checked himself. The barrister had 
 seized his arm and was pressing it with all his might. 
 Madame Gerdy stirred a little, and a feeble groan escaped 
 her. 
 
 " She heard you," murmured Noel. 
 
 "I wish it were so," said the doctor; "it would be 
 most encouraging. But I fear you are mistaken. How- 
 ever, we will see. He went up to Madame Gerdy, and, 
 whilst feeling her pulse, examined her carefully ; then, 
 with the tip of his finger, he lightly raised her eyelid. The 
 eye appeared dull, glassy, lifeless. "Come, judge for your- 
 self ; take her hand, speak to her." 
 
 Noel, trembling all over, did as his friend wished. He 
 
Tl/E I.EKOL'GE CASE. 201 
 
 drew near, and, leaning over the bed, so that his mouth 
 almost touched the sick woman's ear, he murmured : 
 " Mother, it is I, Noel, your own Noel. Speak to me, make 
 some sign, do you hear me, mother ? " 
 
 It was in vain ; she retained her frightful immobility, 
 Not a sign of intelligence crossed her features. 
 
 " You see," said the doctor, " I told you the truth." 
 
 " Poor woman ! " sighed Noel, " does she suffer ? " 
 
 "Not at present." 
 
 The nun now rose ; and she too came beside the bed. 
 " Doctor," said she : " all is ready." 
 
 " Then call the servant, sister, to help us. We are go' 
 ing to apply a mustard poultice." 
 
 The servant hastened in. In the arms of the two 
 woman, Madame Gerdy was like a corpse, whom they were 
 dressing for the last time. She was as rigid as though she 
 were dead. She must have suffered much and long, poor 
 woman, for it was pitiable to see how thin she was. The 
 nun herself was affected, although she had become habitu- 
 ated to the sight of suffering. How many invalids had 
 breathed their last in her arms during the fifteen years 
 that she had gone from pillow to pillow ! Noel^ during 
 this time, had retired into the window recess, and pressed 
 his burning brow against the panes. Of what was he think- 
 ing, while she who had given him so many proofs of ma- 
 ternal tenderness and devotion was dying a few paces from 
 him. Did he regret her ? was he not thinking rather of 
 the grand and magnificent existence which awaited him on 
 the other side of the river, at the Faubourg St. Germain ? 
 He turned abruptly round on hearing his friend's voice, 
 
 " It is done," said the doctor; "we have only now to 
 wait the effect of the mustard. If she feels it, it will be a 
 good sign ; if it has no effect, we will try cupping." 
 
 " And if that does not succeed ? " 
 
 The doctor answered only with a shrug of the shoulders, 
 which showed his inability to do more. " I understand 
 your silence, Herve," murmured Noel. "Alas! you told 
 me last night she was lost." 
 
 " Scientifically, yes ; but I do not yet despair. It is 
 hardly a year ago that the father-in-law of one of our com- 
 rades recovered from an almost identical attack ; and I 
 saw him when he was much worse than this : suppuration 
 had set in." 
 
202 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 " It breaks my heart to see her in this state," resumed 
 Noel. " Must she die without recovering her reason even 
 for one moment? Will she not recognise me, speak one 
 word to me ? " 
 
 " Who knows ? This disease, my poor friend, baffles all 
 foresight. Each moment, the aspect may change, accord- 
 ing as the inflammation affects such or such a part of the brain. 
 She is now in a state of utter insensibility, of complete 
 prostration of all her intellectual faculties, of coma, of par- 
 alysis so to say ; to-morrow, she may be seized with con- 
 vulsions, accompanied with a fierce delirium." 
 
 " And will she speak then ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; but that will neither modify the nature nor 
 the gravity of the disease." 
 
 " And will she recover her reason ? " 
 
 "Perhaps," answered the doctor, looking fixedly at his 
 friend ; " but why do you ask that ? " 
 
 " Ah, my dear Herve, one word from Madame Gerdy, 
 only one, would be of such use to me ! " 
 
 " For your affair, eh ! Well, I can tell you nothing, can 
 promise you nothing. You have as many chances in your 
 favour as against you ; only, do not leave her. If her 
 intelligence returns, it will be only momentary, try and 
 profit by it. But I must go," added the doctor : " I have still 
 three calls to make." 
 
 Noel followed his friend. When they reached the land- 
 ing, he asked : " You will return ? " 
 
 " This evening, at nine. There will be no need of me till 
 then. All depends upon the watcher. But I have chosen 
 a pearl. I know her well." 
 
 " It was you, then, who brought this nun ? " 
 
 " Yes, and without your permission. Are you dis- 
 pleased ? " 
 
 " Not the least in the world. Only I confess " 
 
 " What ! you make a grimace. Do your political opin- 
 ions forbid your having your mother, I should say Madame 
 Gerdy, nursed by a nun of St. Vincent ? " 
 
 " My dear Herve, you " 
 
 " Ah ! I know what you are going to say. They are 
 adroit, insinuating, dangerous, all that is quite true. If I 
 had a rich old uncle whose heir I expected to be, I 
 shouldn't introduce one of them into his house. These 
 good creatures are sometimes charged with strange com- 
 
7'HE LEROUGE CASE. 203 
 
 missions. But, what have you to fear from this one ? 
 rvever mind what fools say. Money aside, these worthy 
 sisters are the best nurses in the world. I hope you will 
 nave one when your end comes. But good-bye ; I am in 
 a hurry." And, regardless of his professional dignity, the 
 doctor hurried down the stairs ; while Noel, full of thought, 
 his countenance displaying the greatest anxiety, returned 
 to Madame Gerdy. 
 
 At the door of the sick-room, the nun awaited the bar- 
 rister's return. 
 
 " Sir," said she, " sir." 
 
 " You want something of me, sister ? " 
 
 " Sir, the servant bade me come to you for money : she 
 has no more, and had to get credit at the chemist's." 
 
 " Excuse me, sister," interrupted Noel, seemingly very 
 much vexed ; "excuse me for not having anticipated your 
 request ; but you see I am rather confused." And, taking 
 a hundred-franc note out of his pocket-book, he laid it on 
 the mantel piece. 
 
 " Thanks, sir," said the nun ; " I will keep an account 
 of what I spend. We always do that," she added ; "it is 
 more convenient for the family. One is so troubled at see- 
 ing those one loves laid low by illness. You have perhaps 
 not thought of giving this poor lady the sweet aid of our 
 holy religion ! In your place, sir, I should send without 
 delay for a priest, " 
 
 " What, now, sister ? Do you not see the condition she 
 is in ? She is the same as dead ; you saw that she did not 
 hear my voice." 
 
 " That is of little consequence, sir," replied the nun ; 
 "you will always have done your duty. She did not an- 
 swer you ; but are you sure that she will not answer the 
 priest ? Ah, you do not know all the power of the last 
 sacraments ! I have seen the dying recover their intelli- 
 gence and sufficient strength to confess, and to receive the 
 sacred body of our Lord Jesus Christ. I have often heard 
 families say that they do not wish to alarm the invalid, that 
 the sight of the minister of our Lord might inspire a terror 
 that would hasten the final end. It is a fatal error. The 
 priest does not terrify : he reassures the soul, at the begin- 
 ning of its long journey. He speaks in the name of the 
 God of mercy, who comes to save, not to destroy. I could 
 
204 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 cite to you many cases of dying people who have been 
 cured simply by contact with the sacred balm." 
 
 The nun spoke in a tone as mournful as her look. Her 
 heart was evidently not in the words which she uttered. 
 Without doubt, she had learned them when she first en- 
 tered the convent. Then they expressed something she 
 really felt, she spoke her own thoughts ; but, since then, 
 she had repeated the words over and over again to the 
 friends of every sick person that she attended, until they 
 lost all meaning so far as she was concerned. To utter 
 them became simply a part of her duties as nurse, the 
 same as the preparation of draughts, and the making of 
 poultices. Noel was not listening to her ; his thoughts 
 were far away. 
 
 " Your dear mother," continued the nun, " this good 
 lady that you love so much, no doubt trusted in her reli- 
 gion. Do you wish to endanger her salvation ? If she 
 could speak in the midst of her cruel sufferings " 
 
 The barrister was on the point of replying, when the ser- 
 vant announced that a gentleman, who would not give his 
 name, wished to speak with him on business. 
 
 " I will come," he said quickly. 
 
 " What do you decide, sir ? " persisted the nun. 
 
 " I leave you free, sister, to do as you may judge best." 
 
 The worthy woman began to recite her lesson of thanks, 
 but to no purpose. Noel had disappeared with a dis- 
 pleased look ; and almost immediately she heard his voice 
 in the next room, saying : " At last you have come, M. 
 Clergeot, I had almost given you up ! " 
 
 The visitor, whom the barrister had been expecting, is a 
 person well known in the Rue St. Lazare, round about the 
 Rue de Provence, the neighbourhood of Notre Dame de 
 Lorette, and all along the exterior Boulevards, from the 
 Chaussee des Martyrs to the Rond-Point of the old Bar 
 riere de Clichy. M. Clergeot is no more a usurer than 
 M. Jourclain's father was a shopkeeper. Only, as he has 
 lots of money, and is very obliging, he lends it to his 
 friends ; and, in return for this kindness, he consents to re- 
 ceive interest, which varies from fifteen to five hundred 
 per cent. The excellent man positively loves his clients, 
 and his honesty is generally appreciated. He has never 
 been known to seize a debtor's goods ; he prefers to fol- 
 low him up without respite for ten years, and tear from 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 205 
 
 him bit by bit what is his due. He lives near the top of 
 the Rue de la Victoire. He has no shop , and yet he sells 
 everything saleable, and some other things, too, that the 
 law scarcely considers merchandise. Anything to be use- 
 ful or neighbourly. He often asserts that he is not very 
 rich. It is possibly true. He is whimsical more than cov- 
 etous, and fearfully bold. Free with his money when one 
 pleases him, he would not lend five francs, even with a 
 mortgage on the Chateau of Ferrieres as guarantee, to who- 
 soever does not meet with his approval. However, he 
 often risks his all on the most unlucky cards. His pre- 
 ferred customers consist of women of doubtful morality, 
 actresses, artists, and those venturesome fellows who enter 
 upon professions which depend solely upon those who 
 practice them, such as lawyers and doctors. He lends to 
 women upon their present beauty, to men upon their fu- 
 ture talent. Slight pledges ! His discernment, it should 
 be said, however, enjoys a great reputation. It is rarely 
 at fault. A pretty girl furnished by Clergeot is sure to go 
 far. For an artist to be in Clergeot's debt was a recom- 
 mendation preferable to the warmest criticism. 
 
 Madame Juliette had procured this useful and honoura- 
 ble acquaintance for her lover. Noel, who well knew how 
 sensitive this worthy man was to kind attentions, and how 
 pleased by politeness, began by offering him a seat, and ask- 
 ing after his health. Clergeot went into details. His teeth 
 were still good ; but his sight was beginning to fail. His legs 
 were no longer so steady, and his hearing was not all that 
 could be desired. The chapter of complaints ended 
 " You know," said he, " why I have called. Your bills fall 
 clue to-day ; and I am devilishly in need of money. I 
 have one- of ten, one of seven, and a third of five thousand 
 francs, total, twenty-two thousand francs." 
 
 " Come, M. Clergeot," replied Noel, "do not let us have 
 any joking." 
 
 " Excuse me," said the usurer ; " I am not joking at 
 all." 
 
 " I rather think you are though. Why, it's just eight 
 days ago to-day that I wrote to tell you that I was not 
 prepared to meet the bills, and asked for a renewal ! " 
 
 " I recollect very well receiving your letter." 
 
 " What do you say to it, then ? " 
 
 " By my not answering the note, I supposed that you 
 
LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 would understand that I could not comply with your request; 
 I hoped that you would exert yourself to find the amount for 
 me." 
 
 Noel allowed a gesture of impatience to escape him. 
 " I have not done so," 4 he said , " so take your own course. I 
 haven't a sou." 
 
 "The devil. Do you know that I have renewed these 
 bills four times already ? " 
 
 " I know that the interest has been fully and promptly 
 paid, and at a rate which cannot make you regret the 
 investment." 
 
 Clergeot never likes talking about the interest he receives. 
 He pretends that it is humiliating. 
 
 " I do not complain ; I only say that you take things too 
 easily with me. If I had put your signature in circulation 
 all would have been paid by now." 
 " Not at all." 
 
 " Yes, you would have found means to escape being sued. 
 But you say to yourself : ' Old Clergeot is a good fellow.' 
 And that is true. But I am so only when it can do me no 
 harm. Now, to-day, I am absolutely in great need of my 
 money. Ab so lute ly," he added, emphasising each 
 syllable. 
 
 The old fellow's decided tone seemed to disturb the 
 barrister. " Must I repeat it ? " he said ; " I am completely 
 drained, com plete ly ! " 
 
 " Indeed ? " said the usurer ; " well, I am sorry for you ; 
 but I shall have to sue you." 
 
 " And what good will that do ? Let us play above board, 
 M. Clergeot. Do you care to increase the lawyers' 
 fees ? You don't do you ? Even though you may put me 
 to great expense, will that procure you even 'a centime ? 
 You will obtain judgment against me. Well, what then ? 
 Do you think of putting in an execution ? This is not my 
 home ; the lease is in Madame Gerdy's name." 
 
 " I know all that. Besides, the sale of everything here 
 would not cover the amount." 
 
 " Then you intend to put me in prison, at Clichy ! Bad 
 speculation, I warn you, my practice will be lost, and, you 
 know, no practice, no money." 
 
 " Good ! " cried the worthy money-lender. " Now you 
 are talking nonsense ! You call that being frank. Pshaw ! 
 if you supposed me capable of half the cruel things you 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 207 
 
 have said, my money would be there in your drawer, ready 
 for me." 
 
 " A mistake ! I should not know where to get it, unless 
 by asking Madame Gerdy, a thing I would never do." 
 
 A sarcastic and most irritating little laugh, peculiar to 
 old Clergeot, interrupted Noel. " It would be no good 
 doing that," said the usurer ; " mamma's purse has long 
 been empty ; and if the dear creature should die now, 
 they tell me she is very ill, I would not give two hundred 
 napoleons for the inheritance." 
 
 The barrister turned red with passion, his eyes glittered ; 
 but he dissembled, and protested with some spirit. 
 
 " We know what we know," continued Clergeot quietly. 
 " Before a man risks his money, he takes care to make 
 some inquiries. Mamma's remaining bonds were sold last 
 October. Ah ! the Rue de Provence is an expensive 
 place ! I have made an estimate, which is at home. 
 Juliette is a charming woman, to be sure \ she has not her 
 equal, I am convinced ; but she is expensive, devilish expen- 
 sive." 
 
 Noel was enraged at hearing his Juliette thus spoke of 
 by this honourable personage. But what reply could he 
 make ? Besides, none of us are perfect ; and M. Clergeot 
 possesses the fault of not properly appreciating women, 
 which doubtless arises from the business transactions he 
 has had with them. He is charming in his business with 
 the fair sex, complimenting and flattering them; but the 
 coarsest insults would be less revolting than his disgusting 
 familiarity. 
 
 " You have gone too fast," he continued, without deigning 
 to notice his client's ill looks ; " and I have told you so be- 
 fore. But, you would not listen ; you are mad about the 
 girl. You can never refuse her anything. Fool ! When 
 a pretty girl wants anything, you should let her long for it 
 for a while ; she has then something to occupy her mind, 
 and keep her from thinking of a quantity of other follies. 
 Four good strong wishes, well managed, ought to last a 
 year. You don't know how to look after your own interests. 
 I know that her glance would turn the head of a stone 
 saint ; but you should reason with yourself, hang it ! Why, 
 there are not ten girls in Paris who live in such style ? 
 And do you think she loves you any the more for it ? No< 
 
a bit. When she has ruined you, she'll leave you in the 
 lurch." 
 
 Noel accepted the eloquence of his prudent banker like 
 a man without an umbrella accepts a shower. " What is 
 the meaning of all this ! " he asked. 
 
 " Simply that I will not renew your bills. You under- 
 stand ? Just now, if you try very hard, you will be able 
 to hand me the twenty-two thousand francs in question. 
 You need not frown : you will find means to do so to 
 prevent my seizing your goods, not here, for that would 
 be absurd, but at your little woman's apartments. She 
 would not be at all pleased, and would not hesitate to tell 
 you so." 
 
 " But everything there belongs to her ; and you have no 
 right" 
 
 " What of that ? She will oppose the seizure, no doubt, 
 and I expect her to do so ; but she will make you find the 
 requisite sum. Believe me, you had best parry the blow. 
 I insist on being paid now. I won't give you any further 
 delay ; because, in three months' time, you will have used 
 your last resources. It is no use saying ' No,' like that. 
 You are in one of those conditions that must be continued 
 at any price. You would burn the wood from your dying 
 mother's bed to warm this creature's feet. Where did you 
 obtain the ten thousand francs that you left with her the 
 other evening ? Who knows what you will next attempt to 
 procure money ? The idea of keeping her fifteen days, 
 three days, a single day more, may lead you far. Open 
 your eyes. I know the game well. If you do not leave 
 Juliette, you are lost. Listen to a little good advice, gratis. 
 You must give her up, sooner or later, mustn't you ? Do it 
 to-day, then." 
 
 As you see, our worthy Clergeot never minces the truth 
 to his customers, when they do not keep their engage- 
 ments. If they are displeased, so much the worse for 
 them ! His conscience is at rest. He would never join 
 in any foolish business. 
 
 Noel could bear it no longer : and his anger burst forth. 
 " Enough," he cried decidedly. " Do as you please, M. 
 Clergeot, but have done with your advice. I prefer the 
 lawyer's plain prose. If I have committed follies, I 
 can repair them, and in a way that would surprise 
 you. Yes, M. Clergeot, I can procure twenty-two thou- 
 
LE ROGUE CASK. 209 
 
 sand francs ; I could have a hundred thousand to-morrow 
 morning, if I saw fit. They would only cost me the trouble 
 of asking for them. But that I will not do. My extrava- 
 gance, with all due deference to you, will remain a secret 
 as heretofore. I do not choose that my present embar 
 rassed circumstances should be even suspected. I will 
 not relinquish, for your sake, that at which I have been 
 aiming, the very day it is within my grasp." 
 
 " He resists," thought the usurer ; " he is less deeply in- 
 volved than I imagined." 
 
 "So," continued the barrister, "put your bills in the 
 hands of your lawyer. Let him sue me. In eight days, I 
 shall be summoned to appear before the Tribunal de Com- 
 merce, and I shall ask for the twenty-five days' delay, 
 which the judges always grant to an embarrassed debtor. 
 Twenty-five and eight, all the world over, make just thirty- 
 three days. That is precisely the respite I need. You 
 have two alternatives : either accept from me at once a 
 new bill for twenty-four thousand francs payable in six 
 weeks, or else, as I have an appointment, go off to your 
 lawyer." 
 
 " And in six weeks," replied the usurer, "you will be in 
 precisely the same condition you are to-day. And forty- 
 five days more of Juliette will cost " 
 
 " M. Clergeot," interrupted Noel, " long before that 
 time, my position will be completely changed. But I 
 have finished," he added rising ; " and my time is valu- 
 able." 
 
 " One moment, you- impatient fellow i " exclaimed the 
 good-natured banker, " you said twenty-four thousand 
 francs at forty-five days ? " 
 
 ' Yes. That is about seventy-five per cent, pretty fair 
 interest." 
 
 " I never cavil about interest," said M. Clergeot ; 
 "only " He looked slyly at Noel scratching his chin 
 violently, a movement which in him indicated how insensibly 
 his brain was at work. " Only," he continued, " I should 
 very much like to know what you are counting upon." 
 
 " That I will not tell you. You will know it ere long, 
 in common with all the world." 
 
 " I have it ! " cried M. Clergeot, " I have it ! You are 
 going to marry ! You have found an heiress, of course, 
 your little Juliette told me something of the sort this 
 M 
 
210 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 morning. Ah ! you are going to marry ! Is she pretty ? 
 But no matter. She has a full purse, eh ? You wouldn't 
 take her without that. So you are going to start a home 
 of your own ? " 
 
 " I did not say so." 
 
 " That's right. Be discreet. But I can take a hint. 
 One word more. Beware of the storm ; your little woman 
 has a suspicion of the truth. You are right; it wouldn't 
 do to be seeking money now. The slightest inquiry would 
 be sufficient to enlighten your father-in-law as to youi 
 financial position, and you would lose the damsel. Marry 
 and settle down. But get rid of Juliette, or I won't give 
 five francs for the fortune. So it is settled : prepare a new 
 bill for twenty-four thousand francs, and I will call for it 
 when I bring you the old ones on Monday." 
 
 " You haven't them with you, then ? " 
 
 " No. And to be frank, I confess that, knowing well I 
 should get nothing from you, I left them with others at my 
 lawyer's. However, you may rest easy : you have my 
 word." 
 
 M. Clergeot made a pretence of retiring ; but just as he 
 was going out, he returned quickly. " I had almost for- 
 gotten," said he ; " while you are about it, you can make 
 the bill for twenty-six thousand francs. Your little woman 
 ordered some dresses, which I shall deliver to-morrow ; in 
 this way they will be paid for." 
 
 The barrister began to remonstrate. He certainly did 
 not refuse to pay, only he thought he ought to be con- 
 sulted when any purchases were made. He didn't like 
 this way of disposing of his money. 
 
 " What a fellow ! " said the usurer, shrugging his shoul- 
 ders ; " do you want to make the girl unhappy for nothing 
 at all ? She won't let you off yet, my friend. You may 
 be quite sure she will eat up your new fortune also. And 
 you know, if you need any money for the, wedding, you 
 have but to give me some guarantee. Procure me an in- 
 troduction to the notary, and. everything shall be arranged. 
 But I must go. On Monday then." 
 
 Noel listened, to make sure that the usurer had actually 
 gone. When he heard him descending the staircase, 
 " Scoundrel ! " he cried, " miserable thieving old skinflint ! 
 Didn't he need a lot of persuading ? He had quite made 
 up his mind to sue me. It would have been a pleasant 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 211 
 
 thing had the count come to hear of it. Vile usurer ! I 
 was afraid, one moment, of being obliged to tell him all." 
 
 While inveighing thus against the money-lender, the 
 barrister looked at his watch. " Half-past five already," 
 he said. His indecision was great. Ought he to go and 
 dine with his father ? Could he leave Madame Gerdy ? 
 He longed to dine at the De Commarin mansion; yet, on 
 the other hand, to leave a dying woman ! " Decidedly," 
 he murmured, " I can't go." He sat down at his desk, 
 and with all haste wrote a letter of apology to his father. 
 Madame Gerdy, he said, might die at any moment; he 
 must remain with her. As he bade the servant give the 
 note to a messenger, to carry it to the count, a sudden 
 thought seemed to strike him. " Does madame's brother," 
 he asked, " know that she is dangerously ill ? " 
 
 " I do not know, sir," replied the servant, " at any rate, 
 I have not informed him." 
 
 " What, did you not think to send him word ? Run to 
 his house quickly. Have him sought for, if he is not at 
 home ; he must come." 
 
 Considerably more at ease, Noel went and sat in the 
 sick-room. The lamp was lighted ; and the nun was moving 
 about the room as though quite at home, dusting and 
 arranging everything, and putting it in its place. She wore 
 an air of satisfaction, that Noel did not fail to notice. 
 " Have we any gleam of hope, sister ? " he asked. 
 
 " Perhaps," repLed the nun. " The priest has been here, 
 sir ; your dear mother did not notice his presence ; but he 
 is coming back. That is not all. Since the priest was here, 
 the poultice has taken admirably. The skin is quite 
 reddened. I am sure she feels it." 
 
 " God grant that she does, sister ! " 
 
 " Oh, I have already been praying ! But it is important 
 not to leave her alone a minute. I have arranged all with 
 the servant. After the doctor has been, I shall lie down, 
 and she will watch until one in the morning. I will then 
 take her place and " 
 
 " You shall go to bed, sister," interrupted Noel, sadly. 
 " It is I, who could not sleep a wink, who will watch through 
 the night." 
 
THE I.KKOr^/-. CASK. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 OLD TABARET did not consider himself defeated, because 
 he had been repulsed by the investigating magistrate, 
 already irritated by a long day's examination. You may 
 call it a fault, or an accomplishment ; but the old man was 
 more obstinate than a mule. To the excess of despair to 
 which he succumbed in the passage outside the magistrate's 
 office, there soon succeeded that rlrm resolution which is 
 the enthusiasm called forth by clanger. The feeling of duty 
 got the upper hand. Was it a time to yield to unworthy 
 despair, when the life of a fellow-man depended on each 
 minute ? Inaction would be unpardonable. He had 
 plunged an innocent man into the abyss ; and he must draw 
 him out, he alone, if no one would help him. Old Tabaret, 
 as well as the magistrate, was greatly fatigued. On reach- 
 ing the open air, he perceived that he, too, was in want of 
 food. The emotions of the day had prevented him from 
 feeling hungry ; and, since the previous evening, he had 
 not even taken a glass of water. He entered a restaurant 
 on the Boulevards, and ordered dinner. While eating, not 
 only his courage, but also his confidence came insensibly 
 back to him. It was with him, as with the rest of mankind ; 
 who knows how much one's ideas may change, from the 
 beginning to the end of a repast, be it ever so modest ! A 
 philosopher has plainly demonstrated that heroism is but 
 an affair of the stomach. The old fellow looked at the 
 situation in a much less sombre light. He had plenty of 
 time before him ! A clever man could accomplish a great 
 deal in a month ! Would his usual penetration faif him 
 now ? Certainly not. His great regret was, his inability 
 to let Albert know that some was working for him. 
 
 He was entirely another man, as he rose from the table ; 
 and it was with a sprightly step that he walked towards the 
 Rue St. Lazare. Nine o'clock struck as the concierge 
 opened the door for him. He went at once up to the fourth 
 floor to inquire after the health of his former friend, her 
 whom he used to call the excellent, the worthy Madame 
 Gerdy. It was Noel who let him in, Noel, who had doubt- 
 less been thinking of the past, for he looked as sad as 
 though the dying woman was really his mother. In con- 
 sequence of this unexpected circumstance, old Tabaret 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 213 
 
 could not avoid going in for a few minutes, though he would 
 much have preferred not doing so. He knew very well, 
 that, being with the barrister, he would be unavoidably led 
 to speak of the Lerouge case ; and how could he do this, 
 knowing, as he did, the particulars much better than his 
 young friend himself, without betraying his secret ? A 
 single imprudent word might reveal the part he was playing 
 in this sad drama. It was, above all others, from his dear 
 Noel, now Viscount de Commarin, that he wished entirely to 
 conceal his connection with the police. But, on the other 
 hand, he thirsted to know what had passed between the bar- 
 rister and the count. His ignorance on this single point 
 aroused his curiosity. However, as he could not withdraw he 
 resolved to keep close watch upon his language and remain 
 constantly on his guard. The barrister ushered the old man 
 into Madame Gerdy's room. Her condition, since the 
 afternoon, had changed a little ; though it was impossible 
 to say whether for the better or the worse. One thing was 
 evident, her prostration was not so great. Her eyes still 
 remained closed ; but a slight quivering of the lids was 
 evident. She constantly moved on her pillow, and moaned 
 feebly. 
 
 " What does the doctor say ? " asked old Tabaret, in that 
 low voice one unconsciously employs in a sick-room. 
 
 " He has just gone," replied Noel ; " before long all will 
 be over." 
 
 The old man advanced on tip-toe, and looked at the 
 dying woman with evident emotion. " Poor creature ! " 
 he murmured ; " God is merciful in taking her. She per- 
 haps suffers much ; but what is this pain compared to what 
 she- would feel if she knew that her son, her true son, was 
 in prison, accused of murder ? " 
 
 " That is what I keep thinking," said Noel, " to console 
 myself for this sight. For I still love her, my old friend ; 
 I shall always regard her as a mother. You have heard 
 me curse her, have you not ? I have twice treated her very 
 harshly. I thought I hated her ; but now, at the moment 
 of losing her, I forget every wrong she has done me, only 
 to remember her tenderness. Yes, for her, death is far 
 preferable ! And yet I do not think, no, I cannot think 
 her son guilty." 
 
 " No ! what, you too ? " 
 
 Old Tabaret put so much warmth and vivacity into this 
 
214 THE 1. 1: ROUGE CASE. 
 
 exclamation, that Noel looked at him with astonishment. 
 He felt his face grow red, and he hastened to explain him- 
 self. " I said, ' you too,' " he continued, " because I, thanks 
 perhaps to my inexperience, am persuaded also of this 
 young man's innocence. I cannot in the least imagine a 
 man of his rank meditating and accomplishing so cowardly 
 a crime. I have spoken with many persons on this matter 
 which has made so much noise : and everybody is of my 
 opinion. He has public opinion in his favor ; that is al- 
 ready something." 
 
 Seated near the bed, sufficiently far from the lamp to 
 be in the shade, the nun hastily knitted stockings des- 
 tined for the poor. It was a purely mechanical work, 
 during which she usually prayed. But, since old Tabaret 
 entered the room, she forgot her everlasting prayers 
 whilst listening to the conversation. What did it all mean ? 
 Who could this woman be ? And this young man who 
 was not her son, and who yet called her mother, and at 
 the same time spoke of a true son accused of being an 
 assassin ? Before this she had overheard mysterious 
 remarks pass between Noel and the doctor. Into what 
 strange house had she entered ? She was a little afraid ; 
 and her conscience was sorely troubled. Was she not 
 sinning ? She resolved to tell all to the priest, when he 
 returned. 
 
 " No," said Noel, " no, M. Tabaret ; Albert has not 
 public opinion for him. We are sharper than that in 
 France, as you know. When a poor devil is arrested, 
 entirely innocent, perhaps, of the crime charged against 
 him, we are always ready to throw stones at him. We 
 keep all our pity for him, who, without doubt guilty, 
 appears before the court of assize. As long as the justice 
 hesitates, we side with the prosecution against the pris- 
 oner. The moment it is proved that the man is a villain, all 
 our sympathies are in his favour. That is public opinion. 
 You understand, however, that it affects me but little. I 
 despise it to such an extent, that if, as I dare still hope, 
 Albert is not released, I will defend him. Yes, I have 
 told the Count de Commarin, my father, as much. I will 
 be his counsel, and I will save him." 
 
 Gladly would the old man have thrown himself on 
 Noel's neck. He longed to say to him : " We will save 
 him together." But he restrained himself. Would not 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 215 
 
 the barrister despise him, if he told him his secret ! He 
 resolved, however, to reveal all should it become neces- 
 sary, or should Albert's position become worse. For the 
 time being, he contented himself with strongly approving 
 his young friend. " Bravo ! my boy," said he ; " you 
 have a noble heart. I feared to see you spoiled by wealth 
 and rank ; pardon me. You will remain, I see, what you 
 have always been in your more humble position. But, 
 tell me, you have, then, seen your father, the count ? " 
 
 Now, for the first time, Noel seemed to notice the nun's 
 eyes, which, lighted by eager curiosity, glittered in the 
 shadow like carbuncles. With a look, he drew the old 
 man's attention to her, and said : " I have seen him ; 
 and everything is arranged to my satisfaction. I will tell 
 you all, in detail, by-aftcl-bye, when we are more at ease. 
 By this bedside, I am almost ashamed of my happiness." 
 
 M. Tabaret was obliged to content himself with this 
 reply and this promise. Seeing that he would learn 
 nothing that evening, he spoke of going to bed, declaring 
 himself tired out by what he had had to do during the 
 clay. Noel did not ask him to stop. He was expecting, 
 he said, Madame Gerdy's brother, who had been sent for 
 several times, but who was not at home. He hardly 
 knew how he could again meet this brother, he added : 
 he did not yet know what conduct he ought to pursue. 
 Should he tell him all ? It would only increase his grief. 
 On the other hand, silence would oblige him to play a 
 difficult part. The old man advised him to say nothing ; 
 he could explain all later on. 
 
 " What a fine fellow Noel is ! " murmured old Tabaret, 
 as he regained his apartments as quietly as possible. 
 He had been absent from home twenty-four hours ; and 
 he fully expected a formidable scene with his housekeeper. 
 Mannette was decidedly out of temper, and declared, 
 once for all, that she would certainly seek a new place, 
 if her master did not change his conduct. She had re- 
 mained up all night, in a terrible fright, listening to the 
 least sound on the stairs, expecting every moment to see 
 her master, brought home on a litter, assassinated. As 
 though on purpose, there had been great commotion in 
 the house. M. Gerdy had gone down a short time after 
 her master, and she had seen him return two hours later. 
 After that, they had sent for the doctor. Such goings on 
 
216 THE LEKOL'GE CASE. 
 
 would be the death of her, without counting that her 
 constitution was too weak to allow her to sit up so late. 
 But Mannette forgot that she did not sit up on her 
 master's account nor on Noel's but was expecting one of 
 her old friends, one of those handsome Gardes de Paris 
 who had promised to marry her, and for whom she had 
 waited in vain, the rascal ! She burst forth in reproaches, 
 while she prepared her master's bed, too sincere, she 
 declared, to keep anything on her mind, or to keep her 
 mouth closed, when it was a question of his health and 
 reputation. M. Tabaret made no reply, not being in the 
 mood for argument. He bent his head to the storm, and 
 turned his back to the hail. But, as soon as Mannette 
 had finished what she was about, he put her out of the 
 room, and double locked the door. He busied himself 
 in forming a new line of battle, and in deciding upon 
 prompt and active measures. He rapidly examined the 
 situation. Had he been deceivd in his investigations ? 
 No. Were his calculations of probabilities erroneous ? 
 No. He had started with a positive fact, the murder. 
 He had discovered the particulars ; his inferences were 
 correct, and the criminal was evidently such as he had 
 described him. The man M. Daburon had had arrested 
 could not be the criminal. His confidence in a judicial 
 axiom had led him astray, when he pointed to Albert. 
 
 " That," thought he, " is the result of following ac- 
 cepted opinions and those absurd phrases, all ready to 
 hand, which are like mile-stones along a fool's road ! 
 Left free to my own inspirations, I should have examined 
 this case more thoroughly^ I would have left nothing to 
 chance. The formula, ' Seek out the one whom the 
 crime benefits, may often be as absurd as true. The 
 heirs of a man assassinated are in reality all benefited 
 by the murder ; while the assassin obtains at most the 
 victim's watch and purse. Three pers6ns were interested 
 in Widow Lerouge'-s death : Albert, Madame Gerdy, 
 and the Count de Commarin. It is plain to me that 
 Albert is not the criminal. It is not Madame Gerdy, who 
 is dying from the shock caused by the unexpected an- 
 nouncement of the crime. There remains, then, the 
 count. Can it be he ? If so, he certainly did not do it 
 himself. He must have hired some wretch, a wretch of 
 good position, if you please, wearing patent leather boots 
 
Till'. LKROUGK CASE. 217 
 
 of a good make, and smoking trabucos cigars with an 
 amber mouth-piece. These well-dressed villains ordinarily 
 lack nerve. They cheat, they forge ; but they don't 
 assassinate. Supposing, though, that the count did get 
 hold of some dare-devil fellow. He would simply have 
 replaced one accomplice by another still more dangerous. 
 That would be idiotic, and the count is a sensible man. 
 He, therefore, had nothing whatever to do with the mat- 
 ter. To be quite sure though, I will make some inquiries 
 about him. Another thing, Widow Lerouge, who so 
 readily exchanged the children while nursing them, would 
 be very likely to undertake a number of other dangerous 
 commissions. Who can say that she has not obliged other 
 persons who had an equal interest in getting rid of her ? 
 There is a secret, I am getting at it, but I do not hold it 
 yet. One thing is certain though, she was not assassinated 
 to prevent Noel recovering his rights. She must have 
 been suppressed for some analogous reason, by a bold 
 and experienced scoundrel, prompted by similar motives 
 to those of which I suspected Albert. It is, then, in that 
 direction that I must follow up the case now. And, above 
 all, I must obtain the past history of this obliging widow, 
 and I will have it too, for in all probability the particulars 
 which have been written for from her birthplace will ar- 
 rive to-morrow." 
 
 Returning to Albert, old Tabaret weighed the charges 
 which were brought against the young man, and reckoned 
 the chances which he still had in favour of his release. 
 " From the look of things," he murmured, " I see only 
 luck and myself, that is to say absolutely nothing, in his 
 favor at present. As to the charges, they are countless. 
 However, it is no use going over them. It is I who 
 amassed them ; and I know what they are worth ! At once 
 everything and nothing. What do signs prove, however 
 striking they may be, in cases where one ought to disbe- 
 lieve even the evidence of one's own senses ? Albert is a 
 victim of the most remarkable coincidences ; but one word 
 might explain them. There have been many such cases. 
 It was even worse in the matter of the little tailor. At five 
 o'clock, he bought a knife, which he showed to ten of his 
 friends, saying, ' This is for my wife, who is an idle jade, 
 and plays me false with my workmen.' In the evening, 
 the neighbours heard a terrible quarrel between the couple, 
 
2i8 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 cries, threats, stampings, blows , then suddenly all was 
 quiet. The next day, the tailor had disappeared from his 
 home, and the wife was discovered dead, with the very 
 same knife buried to the hilt between her shoulders. Ah, 
 well ! it turned out it was not the husband who had stuck 
 it there ; it was a jealous lover. After that, what is to be 
 believed ? Albert, it is true, will not give an account of 
 how he passed Tuesday evening. That does not affect 
 me. The question for me is not to prove where he was, 
 but that he was not at La Jonchere. Perhaps, after all, 
 Gevrol is on the right track. I hope so, from the bottom 
 of my heart. Yes ; God grant that he may be successful. 
 My vanity and my mad presumption will deserve the slight 
 punishment of his triumph over me. What would I not 
 give to establish this man's innocence ? Half of my 
 fortune would be but a small sacrifice. If I should not 
 succeed ! If, after having caused the evil, I should find 
 myself powerless to undo it ! " 
 
 Old Tabaret went to bed, shuddering at this last thought. 
 He fell asleep, and had a terrible nightmare. Lost in that 
 vulgar crowd, which, on the days when society revenges 
 itself, presses about the Place de la Rouquette and watches 
 the last convulsions of one condemned to death, he attended 
 Albert's execution. He saw the unhappy man, his hands 
 bound behind his back, his collar turned down, ascend, 
 supported by a priest, the steep flight of steps leading on 
 to the scaffold. He saw him standing upon the fatal plat- 
 form, turning his proud gaze upon the terrified assembly 
 beneath him. Soon the eyes of the condemned man met 
 his own ; and, bursting his cords, he pointed him, Tabaret, 
 out to the crowd, crying, in a loud voice : " That man is 
 my assassin." Then a great clamour arose to curse the 
 detective. He wished to escape ; but his feet seemed 
 fixed to the ground. He tried at least to close his eyes ; 
 he could not. A power unknown and irresistible compelled 
 him to look. Then Albert again cried out : " I am inno- 
 cent ; the guilty one is " He pronounced a name ; the 
 crowd repeated this name, and he alone did not catch 
 what it was. At last the head of the condemned man fell. 
 M. Tabaret uttered a loud cry, and awoke in a cold perspi- 
 ration. It took him some time to convince himself that 
 nothing was real of what he had just heard and seen, and 
 that he was actually in his own house, in his own bed. It 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 219 
 
 was only a dream ! But dreams sometimes are, they say, 
 warnings from heaven. His imagination was so struck 
 with what had just happened that he made unheard of 
 efforts to recall the name pronounced by Albert. Not 
 succeeding, he got up and lighted his candle. The dark- 
 ness made him afraid, the night was full of phantoms. 
 It was no longer with him a question of sleep. Beset with 
 these anxieties, he accused himself most severely, and 
 harshly reproached himself for the occupation he had 
 until then so delighted in. Poor humanity ! He was evi- 
 dently stark mad the day when he first had the idea of 
 seeking employment in the Rue de Jerusalem. A noble 
 hobby, truly, for a man of his age, a good quiet citizen of 
 Paris, rich, and esteemed by all ! And to think that he 
 had been proud of his exploits, that he had boasted of his 
 cunning, that he had plumed himself on his keenness of 
 scent, that he had been flattered by that ridiculous sobri- 
 quet, ' Tirauclair.' Old fool ! What could he hope to 
 gain from that bloodhound calling ? All sorts of annoy- 
 ance, the contempt of the world, without counting the 
 danger of contributing to the conviction of an innocent 
 man. Why had he not taken warning by the little tailor's 
 case. Recalling his few satisfactions of the past, and 
 comparing them with his present anguish, he resolved that 
 he would have no more to do with it. Albert once saved, 
 he would seek some less dangerous amusement, and one 
 more generally appreciated. He would break the connec- 
 tion of which he was ashamed, and the police and justice 
 might get on the best they could without him. 
 
 At last the day, which he had awaited with feverish 
 impatience, dawned. To pass the time, he dressed him- 
 self slowly, with much care, trying to occupy his mind with 
 needless details, and to deceive himself as to the time by 
 looking constantly at the clock, to see if it had not stopped. 
 In spite of all this delay, it was not eight o'clock when he 
 presented himself at the magistrate's house, begging him to 
 excuse, on account of the importance of his business, a visit 
 too early not to be indiscreet. Excuses were superfluous. 
 M. Daburon was never disturbed by a call at eight o'clock 
 in the morning. He was already at work. He received 
 the old amateur detective with his usual kindness, and 
 even joked with him a little about his excitement of the 
 previous evening. Who would have thought his nerves 
 
220 THE LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 were so sensitive ? Doubtless the night had brought 
 deliberation. Had he recovered his reason ? or had he 
 put his hand on the true criminal ? 
 
 This trifling tone in a magistrate, who was accused of 
 being grave even to a fault, troubled the old man. Did 
 not this quizzing hide a determination not to be influenced 
 by anything that he could say ? He believed it did ; and 
 it \vas without the least deception that he commenced his 
 pleading. He put the case more calmly this time, but with 
 all the energy of a well-digested conviction. He had ap- 
 pealed to the heart, he now appealed to reason ; but, although 
 doubt is essentially contagious, he neither succeeded in 
 convincing the magistrate, nor in shaking his opinion. His 
 strongest arguments were of no more avail against M. Da- 
 buron's absolute conviction than bullets made of bread 
 crumbs would be against a breastplate. And there was 
 nothing very surprising in that. Old Tabaret had on his 
 side only a subtle theory, mere words ; M. Daburon pos- 
 sessed palpable testimony, facts. And such was the pecu- 
 liarity of the case, that all the reasons brought forward by 
 the old man to justify Albert simply reacted against him, 
 and confirmed his guilt. A repulse at the magistrate's 
 hands had entered too much into M. Tabaret's anticipations 
 for him to appear troubled or discouraged. He declared 
 that, for the present, he would insist no more ; he had full 
 confidence in the magistrate's wisdom and impartiality. All 
 he wished was to put him on his guard against the pre- 
 sumptions which he himself unfortunately had taken such 
 pains to inspire. He was going, he added, to busy him- 
 self with obtaining more information. They were only at 
 the beginning of the investigation ; and they were still 
 ignorant of very many things, even of Widow Lerouge's 
 past life. More facts might come to light. Who knew 
 what testimony the man with the earrings, who was being 
 pursued by Gevrol, might give ? Though in a great rage 
 internally, and longing to insult and chastise he whom he 
 inwardly styled a " fool of a magistrate," old Tabaret 
 forced himself to be humble and polite. He wished, he 
 said, to keep well posted up in the different phases of the 
 investigation, and to be informed of the result of future 
 interrogations. He ended by asking permission to com- 
 municate with Albert. He thought his services deserved 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 221 
 
 this slight favour. He desired an interview of only ten 
 minutes without witnesses. 
 
 M. Daburon refused this request. He declared, that, 
 for the present, the prisoner must continue to remain 
 strictly in solitary confinement. By way of consolation, 
 he added that, in three or four days, he might perhaps be 
 able to reconsider this decision, as the motives which 
 prompted it would then no longer exist. 
 
 "Your refusal is cruel, sir," said M. Tabaret ; "but 1 
 understand it, and submit." 
 
 That was his only complaint : and he withdrew almost im- 
 mediately, fearing that he could no longer master his in- 
 dignation. He felt that, besides the great happiness of sav- 
 ing an innocent man, compromised by his imprudence, he 
 would experience unspeakable delight in avenging himself 
 for the magistrate's obstinacy. " Three or four days," he 
 muttered, " that is the same as three or four years to the 
 unfortunate prisoner. He takes things quite at his ease, this 
 charming magistrate. But I must find out the real truth 
 of the case between now and then." 
 
 Yes, M. Daburon only required three or fou-r days to 
 wring a confession from Albert, or at least to make him 
 abandon his system of defence. The difficulty of the prose- 
 cution was not being able to produce any witness who 
 had seen the prisoner during the evening of Shrove Tues- 
 day. One deposition alone to that effect would have such 
 great weight, that M. Daburon, as soon as Tabaret had 
 left him, turned all his attention in that direction. He 
 could still hope for a great deal. It was only Saturday, 
 the day of the murder was remarkable enough to fix peo- 
 ple's memories, and up till then there had not been time 
 to start a proper investigation. He arranged for five of 
 the most experienced detectives in the secret service to be 
 sent to Bougival, supplied with photographs of the prisoner. 
 They were to scour the entire country between Rueil and 
 La Jonchere, to inquire everywhere, and make the most 
 minute investigations. The photographs would greatly aid 
 their efforts. They had orders to show them everywhere 
 and to everybody and even to leave a dozen about the neigh- 
 bourhood, as they were furnished with a sufficient num- 
 ber to do so. It was impossible, that, on an evening when 
 so .many people were about, no one had noticed the origi- 
 nal of the protrait either at the railway station at Rueil or 
 
222 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 upon one of the roads which lead to La Jonchere, the high 
 road, and the path by the river. 
 
 These arrangements made, the investigating magistrate 
 proceeded to the Palais de Justice, and sent for Albert. 
 He had already in the morning received a report, inform- 
 ing him hour by hour of the acts, gestures, and utterances 
 of the prisoner, who had been carefully watched. Noth- 
 ing in him, the report said, betrayed the criminal. He 
 seemed very sad, but not despairing. He had not cried 
 out, nor threatened, nor cursed justice, nor even spoken 
 of a fatal error. After eating lightly, he had gone 
 to the window of his cell, and had there remained 
 standing for more than an hour. Then he laid down, and 
 had quietly gone to sleep. 
 
 " What an iron constitution ! " thought M. Daburon, 
 when the prisoner entered his office. 
 
 Albert was no longer the despairing man who, the night 
 before, bewildered with the multiplicity of charges, sur- 
 prised by the rapidity with which they were brought 
 against him, had writhed beneath the magistrate's gaze, 
 and appeared ready to succumb. Innocent or guilty, he 
 had made up his mind how to act ; his face left no doubt 
 of that. His eyes expressed that cold resolution of a sac- 
 rifice freely made, and a certain haughtiness which might 
 be taken for disdain, but which expressed the noble resent- 
 ment of an injured man. In him could be seen the self- 
 reliant man, who might be shaken but never overcome by 
 misfortune. On beholding him, the magistrate understood 
 that he would have to change his mode of attack. He 
 recognized one of those natures which are provoked to 
 resistance when assailed, and strengthened when men- 
 aced. He therefore gave up his former tactics, and 
 attempted to move him by kindness. It was a hackneyed 
 trick, but almost always successful, like certain pathetic 
 scenes at theatres. The criminal who has girt up his energy 
 to sustain the shock of intimidation, finds himself without 
 defence against the wheedling of kindness, the greater in 
 proportion to its lack of sincerity. Now M. Daburon 
 excelled in producing affecting scenes. What confessions 
 he had obtained with a few tears! No one knew so well 
 as he how to touch those old chords which vibrate still 
 even in the most corrupt hearts: honor, love, and family, 
 ties. With Albert, he became kind and friendly, and fuU 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 223 
 
 of the liveliest compassion. Unfortunate man ! how 
 greatly he must suffer, he whose whole life had been like 
 one long enchantment. How at a single blow everything 
 about him had fallen in ruins. Who could have foreseen 
 all this at the time when he was the one hope of a wealthy 
 and illustrious house ! Recalling the past, the magistrate 
 pictured to him the most touching reminiscences of his 
 early youth, and stirred up the ashes of all his extinct 
 affections. Taking advantage of all that he knew of the 
 prisoner's life, he tortured him by the most mournful allu- 
 sions to Claire. Why did he persist in bearing alone his 
 great misfortune ? Had he no one in the world who'would 
 deem it happiness to share his sufferings ? Why this 
 morose silence ? Should he not rather hasten to reassure 
 her whose very life depended upon his ? What was 
 necessary for that? A single word. Then he would be, 
 if not free, at least returned to the world. His prison 
 would become a habitable abode, no more solitary confine- 
 ment ; his friends would visit him, he might receive whom- 
 soever he wished to see. 
 
 It was no longer the magistrate who spoke ; it was a 
 father, who, no matter what happens, always keeps in the 
 recesses of his heart, the greatest indulgence for his child. 
 M. Daburon did even more. For a moment he imagined 
 himself in Albert's position. What would he have done 
 after the terrible revelation ? He scarcely dared ask him- 
 self. He understood the motive which prompted the 
 murder of Widow Le rouge ; he could explain it to himself ; 
 he could almost excuse it. (Another trap.) It was cer- 
 tainly a great crime, but in no way revolting to conscience 
 or to reason. It was one of those crimes which society 
 might, if not forget, at least forgive up to a certain point, 
 because the motive was not a shameful one. What tribu- 
 nal would fail to find extenuating circumstances for a 
 moment of frenzy so excusable. Besides was not the 
 Count de Commarin the more guilty of the two ? Was it 
 not his folly that prepared the way for this terrible event ? 
 His son was the victim of fatality, and was in the highest 
 degree to be pitied. M. Daburon spoke for a long time 
 upon this text, seeking those things most suitable in his 
 opinion to soften the hardened heart of an assassin. And 
 he arrived always at the same conclusion, the wisdom of 
 confessing. But he wasted his eloquence precisely as |M. 
 
224 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 Tabaret had wasted his. Albert appeared in no way af- 
 fected. His answers were of the shortest. He began and 
 ended as on the first occasion, by protesting his inno- 
 cence. 
 
 One test, which has often given the desired result, still 
 remained to be tried. On this same day, Saturday, Albert 
 was confronted with the corpse of Widow Lerouge. He 
 appeared impressed by the sad sight, but no more than 
 anyone would be, if forced to look at the victim of an 
 assassination four days after the crime. One of the 
 bystanders having exclaimed : " Ah, if she could but 
 speak ! " He replied : " That would be very fortunate 
 for me." Since morning, M. Daburon had not gained the 
 least advantage. He had had to acknowledge the failure 
 of his manoeuvres ; and now this last attempt had not suc- 
 ceeded either. The prisoner's continued calmness filled 
 to overflowing the exasperation of this man so sure of his 
 guilt. His spite was evident to all, when, suddenly ceasing 
 his wheedling, he harshly gave the order to re-conduct the 
 prisoner to his cell. " I will compel him to confess ! " he 
 muttered between his teeth. Perhaps he regretted those 
 gentle instruments of investigation of the middle ages, 
 which compelled the prisoner to say whatever one wished 
 to hear. Never, thought he, did any one ever meet a cul- 
 prit like this. What could he reasonably hope for from 
 his system of persistent denial ? This obstinacy, absurd in 
 presence of such absolute proofs, drove the magistrate in- 
 to a rage. Had Albert confessed his guilt, he would have 
 found M. Daburon disposed to pity him ; but as he denied 
 it, he opposed himself to an implacable enemy. 
 
 It was the very falseness of the situation which misled 
 and blinded this magistrate, naturally so kind and gener- 
 ous. Having previously wished Albert innocent, he now 
 absolutely longed to prove him guilty, and that for a hun- 
 dred reasons which he was unable to analyze. He 
 remembered, too well, his having had the Viscount de 
 Commarin for a rival, and his having nearly assassinated 
 him. Had he not repented even to remorse his having 
 signed the warrant of arrest, and his having accepted the 
 duty of investigating the case. Old Tabaret's incompre- 
 hensible change of opinion troubled him, too. All these 
 feelings combined, inspired M. Daburon with a feverish 
 hatred, and urged him on in the path which he had chosen. 
 
TJ1E LE ROUGE CASE. 225 
 
 It was now less the proofs of Albert's guilt which he 
 sought for* than the justification of his own conduct as 
 magistrate. The investigation became embittered like a 
 personal matter. In fact, were the prisoner innocent, he 
 would become inexcusable in his own eyes ; and, in pro- 
 portion as he reproached himself the more severely, and 
 as the knowledge of his own failings grew, he felt the 
 more disposed to try everything to conquer his former 
 rival, even to abusing his own power. The logic of events 
 urged him on. It seemed as though his honour itself was 
 at stake ; and he displayed a passionate activity, such as 
 he had never before been known to show in any investiga- 
 tion. 
 
 M. Daburon passed all Sunday in listening to the 
 reports of the detectives he had sent to Bougival. They 
 had spared no trouble, they stated, but they could report jnoth- 
 ing new. They had heard many people speak of a woman, 
 who pretended, they said, to have seen the assassin leave 
 Widow Lerouge's cottage ; but no one had been able to 
 point this woman out to them, or even to give them her 
 name. They all thought it their duty, however, to inform 
 the magistrate that another inquiry was going on at the same 
 time as theirs. It was directed by M. Tabaret, who person- 
 ally scoured'the country round about in a cabriolet drawn by 
 a very swift horse. He must have acted with great prompt- 
 ness ; for, no matter where they went, he had been there 
 before them. He appeared to have under his orders a 
 dozen men, four of whom at least certainly belonged to 
 the Rue de Jerusalem. All the detectives had met him ; 
 and he had spoken to them. To one, he had said : 
 " What the deuce are you showing this photograph for ? 
 In less than no time you will have a crowd of witnesses, 
 who, to earn three francs, will describe some one more 
 like the portrait than the portrait itself." He had met 
 another on the high-road, and had laughed at him. " You 
 are a simple fellow," he cried out, " to hunt for a hiding 
 man on the high-way ; look a little aside, and you may 
 find him." Again he had accosted two who were together 
 in a cafe at Bougival, and had taken them aside. " I 
 have him," he said to them. " He is a smart fellow ; 
 he came by Chatou. Three people have seen him 
 two railway porters and a third person whose testimony 
 will be decisive, for she spoke to him. He was smoking." 
 
226 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 M. Daburon became so angry with old Tabaret,, that he 
 immediately started for Bougival, firmly resolved to bring 
 the too zealous man back to Paris, and to report his con- 
 duct in the proper quarter. The journey, however, was 
 useless. M. Tabaret, the cabriolet, the swift horse, and 
 the twelve men had all disappeared, or at least were not 
 to be found. On returning home, greatly fatigued, and 
 very much out of temper, the investigating magistrate found 
 the following telegram from the chief of the detective force 
 awaiting him ; it was brief, but to the point : 
 
 " ROUEN, Sunday. 
 
 " The man is found. This evening we start for Paris. 
 The most valuable testimony. GEVROL." 
 
 XV. 
 
 ON the Monday morning, at nine o'clock, M. Daburon 
 was preparing to start for the Palais de Justice, where he 
 expected to find Gevrol and his man, and perhaps old 
 Tabaret. His preparations were nearly made, when his 
 servant announced that a young lady, accompanied by 
 another considerably older, asked to speak with him. She 
 declined giving her name, saying, however, that she would 
 not refuse it, if it was absolutely necessary in order to be 
 received. 
 
 " Show them in," said the magistrate. 
 
 He thought it must be a relation of one or other of the 
 prisoners, whose case he had had in hand when this fresh 
 crime occurred. He determined to send her away quickly. 
 He was standing before the fireplace, seeking for an ad- 
 dress in a small china plate filled with visiting cards. At 
 the sound of the opening of the door, at the rustling of a 
 silk dress gliding by the window, he did not take the 
 trouble to move, nor deign even to turn his head. He 
 contented himself with merely casting a careless glance 
 into the mirror. But he immediately started with a move- 
 ment of dismay, as if he had seen a ghost. In his confu- 
 sion, he dropped the card-plate, which fell noisily on to 
 the hearth, and broke into a thousand pieces. 
 
 " Claire ! " he stammered, " Claire ! " 
 
 And as if he feared equally either being deceived by 
 an illusion, or actually seeing her whose name he had ut- 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 227 
 
 tered, he turned slowly round. It was truly Mademoiselle 
 d'Arlange. This young girl, usually so proud and reserved, 
 had had the courage to come to his house alone, or almost 
 so, for her governess, whom she had left in the ante-room, 
 could hardly count. She was evidently obeying some 
 powerful emotion, since it made her forget her habitual 
 timidity. Never, even in the time when a sight of her 
 was his greatest happiness, had she appeared to him more 
 fascinating. Her beauty, ordinarily veiled by a sweet sad 
 ness, was bright and shining. Her features had an ani- 
 mation which he had never seen in them before. In 
 her eyes, rendered more brilliant by recent tears but 
 partly wiped away, shone the noblest resolution. One 
 could see that she was conscious of performing a great 
 duty, and that she performed it, if not with pleasure, at 
 least with that simplicity which in itself is heroism. 
 
 She advanced calm and dignified, and held out her 
 hand to the magistrate in that English style that some 
 ladies can render so gracefully. "We are always friends, 
 are we not ? " asked she, with a sad smile. 
 
 The magistrate did not dare take the ungloved hand 
 she held out to him. He -scarcely touched it with the tips 
 o'f his fingers, as though he feared too great an emotion. 
 " Yes," he replied indistinctly, " I am always devoted to 
 you." 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange sat down in the large arm- 
 chair, where, two nights previously, old Tabaret had 
 planned Albert's arrest. M. Daburon remained standing 
 leaning against his writing-table. " You know why I have 
 come ? " asked the young girl. 
 
 With a nod, he replied in the affirmative. 
 
 He divined her object only too easily; and he was ask- 
 ing himself whether he would be able to resist prayers 
 from such a mouth. What was she about to ask of him ? 
 What could he refuse her ? Ah, if he had but foreseen 
 this ? He had not yet got over his surprise. 
 
 " I only knew of this dreadful event yesterday," pursued 
 Claire ; " my grandmother considered it best to hide it 
 from me, and, but for my devoted Schmidt, I should still 
 be ignorant of it all. What a night I have passed ! At 
 first I was terrified ; but, when they told me that all de- 
 pended upon you, my fears were dispelled. It is for my 
 sake, is it not, that you have undertaken *his investiga- 
 
228 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 tion ? Oh, you are good, I know it ! How can I ever ex- 
 press my gratitude ? " 
 
 What humiliation for the worthy magistrate were these 
 heartfelt thanks ! Yes, he had at first thought of Mademoi- 
 selle d'Arlange, but since He bowed his head to avoid 
 Claire's glance, so pure and so daring. "Do not thank 
 me, mademoiselle," he stammered, " 1 have not the claim 
 that you think upon your gratitude." 
 
 Claire had been too troubled herself, at first, to notice 
 the magistrate's agitation. The trembling of his voice 
 attracted her attention , but she did not suspect the cause. 
 She thought that her presence recalled sad memories, 
 that he doubtless still loved her, and that he suffered. 
 This idea saddened her, and filled her with self-reproach. 
 "And yet, sir," she continued, " I thank you all the same. 
 I might never have dared go to another magistrate, to 
 speak to a stranger ! Besides, what value would another 
 attach to my words, not knowing me ? While you, so 
 generous, will re-assure me, will tell me by what awful 
 mistake he has been arrested like a villain and thrown into 
 prison." 
 
 " Alas ! " sighed the magistrate, so low that Claire 
 scarcely heard him, and did not understand the terrible 
 meaning of the exclamation. 
 
 " With you," she continued, I am not afraid. You are 
 my friend, you told me so ; you will not refuse my prayers. 
 Give him his liberty quickly. I do not know exactly of 
 what he is accused, but I swear to you that he is inno- 
 cent." 
 
 Claire spoke in the positive manner of one who saw no 
 obstacle in the way of the very simple and natural desire 
 which she had expressed. A formal assurance given by 
 her ought to be amply sufficient ; with a word, M. Daburon 
 would repair everything. The magistrate was silent. He 
 admired that saint-like ignorance of everything, that art- 
 less and frank confidence which doubted nothing. She 
 had commenced by wounding him, unconsciously, it is 
 true, but he had quite forgotten that. He was really an 
 upright man, as good as the best, as is proved from the 
 fact that he trembled at the moment of unveiling the fatal 
 truth. He hesitated to pronounce the words which, like a 
 whirlwind, would overturn the fragile edifice of this young 
 girl's happiness. He who had been so humiliated, so de- 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 229 
 
 spised, he was going to have his revenge ; and yet he did 
 not experience the least feeling of a shameful, though 
 easily understood, satisfaction. 
 
 " And if I should tell you, mademoiselle," he com- 
 menced, " that M. Albert is not innocent ? " She half-raised 
 herself with a protesting gesture. He continued, " If I 
 should tell you that he is guilty ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir ! " interrupted Claire, " you cannot think so ! " 
 
 " I do think so, mademoiselle," exclaimed the magis- 
 trate in a sad voice, " and I must add that I am morally 
 certain of it." 
 
 Claire looked at the investigating magistrate with pro- 
 found amazement. Could it be really he who was speak- 
 ing thus. Had she heard him aright ? Did she under- 
 stand ? She was far from sure. Had he answered seri- 
 ously ? Was he not deluding her by a cruel unworthy 
 jest ? She asked herself this scarcely knowing what she 
 did : for to her everything appeared possible, probable, 
 rather than that which he had said. 
 
 Not daring to raise his eyes, he continued in a tone, ex- 
 pressive of the sincerest pity, " I suffer cruelly for you at 
 this moment, mademoiselle ; but I have the sad courage 
 to tell you the truth, and you must summon yours to hear 
 it. It is far better that you should know everything from 
 the mouth of a friend. Summon, then, all your fortitude ; 
 strengthen your noble soul against a most dreadful mis- 
 fortune. No, there is no mistake. Justice has not been 
 deceived. The Viscount de Commarin is accused of an 
 assassination ; and everything, you understand me, proves 
 that he committed it." 
 
 Like a doctor, who pours out drop by drop a dangerous 
 medicine. M. Daburon pronounced this last sentence 
 slowly, word by word. He watched carefully the result, 
 ready to cease speaking, if the shock was too great. He 
 did not suppose that this young girl, timid to excess, with 
 a sensitiveness almost a disease, would be able to hear 
 without flinching such a terrible revelation. He expected a 
 burst of despair, tears, distressing cries. She might perhaps 
 faint away; and he stood ready to call in the worthy 
 Schmidt. He was mistaken. Claire drew herself up full 
 of energy and courage. The flame of indignation flushed 
 her cheeks, and dried her tears. 
 
 " It is false," she cried, " and those who say it are liars ! 
 
230 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 He cannot be no, he cannot be an assassin. If he were 
 here, sir, and should himself say, ' It is true,' I would re- 
 fuse to believe it ; I would still cry out, ' It is false ! ' ' 
 
 " He has not yet admitted it," continued the magistrate, 
 
 " but he will confess. Even if he should not, there are 
 
 ' more proofs than are needed to convict him. The charges 
 
 against him are as impossible to deny as is the sun which 
 
 shines upon us." 
 
 " Ah ! well," interrupted Mademoiselle d'Arlange, in a 
 voice filled with emotion, " I assert, I repeat, that justice 
 is deceived. Yes," she persisted, in answer to the mag- 
 istrate's gesture of denial, "yes, he is innocent. I am sure 
 of it ; and I would proclaim it, even were the whole world 
 to join with you in accusing him. Do you not see that I 
 know him better even than he can know himself, that my 
 faith in him is absolute, as is my faith in God, that I 
 would doubt myself before doubting him ? " 
 
 The investigating magistrate attempted timidly to make 
 an objection ; Claire quickly interrupted him. " Must I 
 then, sir," said she, " in order to convince you, forget 
 that I am a young girl, and that I am not talking to my 
 mother, but to a man! For his sake I will do so. It is 
 four years, sir, since we first loved each other. Since that 
 time, I have not kept a single one of my thoughts from 
 him, nor has he hid one of his from me. For four years, 
 there has never been a secret between us ; he lived in me, 
 as I lived in him. I alone can say how worthy he is to be 
 loved ; I alone know all that grandeur of soul, nobleness 
 of thought, generosity of feelings, out of which you have 
 so easily made an assassin. And I have seen him, oh ! so 
 unhappy, while all the world envied his lot He is, like 
 me, alone in the world ; his father never loved him. Sus- 
 tained one by the other, we have passed through many 
 unhappy days; and it is at the very moment our trials are 
 ending that he has become a criminal ? Why ? tell me, 
 why ? " 
 
 " Neither the name nor the fortune of the Count de 
 Commarin would descend to him, mademoiselle ; and the 
 knowledge of it came upon him with a sudden shock. 
 One old woman alone was able to prove this. To main- 
 tain his position, he killed her." 
 
 " What infamy," cried the young girl. " what a shame- 
 ful, wicked, calumny ! I know, sir, that story of fallen 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 231 
 
 greatness ; he himself told me of it. It is true, that for 
 three days this misfortune unmanned him ; but, if he was 
 dismayed, it was on my account more than his own. He 
 was distressed at thinking that perhaps I should be 
 grieved, when he confessed to me that he could no longer 
 give me all that his love dreamed of. I grieved ? Ah ! 
 what to me are that great name, that immense wealth ? 
 I owe to them the only unhappiness I have ever known. 
 Was it, then, for such things that I loved him ? It was thus 
 that I replied to him ; and he, so sad, immediately recov- 
 ered his gaiety. He thanked me, saying, ' You love me ; 
 the rest is of no consequence.' I chided him, then, for 
 having doubted me ; and after that, you pretend that he 
 cowardly assassinated an old woman ? You would not 
 dare repeat it." 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange ceased speaking, a smile of 
 victory on her lips. That smile meant, " At last I have 
 attained my end : you are conquered ; what can you reply 
 to all that I have said ? " 
 
 The investigating magistrate did not long leave this 
 smiling illusion to the unhappy child. He did not per- 
 ceive how cruel and offensive was his persistence. Al- 
 ways the same predominant idea ! In persuading Claire, 
 he would justify his own conduct to himself. " You do 
 not know, mademoiselle," he resumed, " how a sudden 
 calamity may effect a good man's reason. It is only at 
 the time a thing escapes us that we feel the greatness of 
 the loss. God preserve me from doubting all that you 
 have said ; but picture to yourself the immensity of the 
 blow which struck M. de Commarin. Can you say that on 
 leaving you he did not give way to despair ? Think of the 
 extremities to which it may have led him. He may have 
 been for a time bewildered, and have acted unconsciously. 
 Perhaps this is the way the crime should be explained. 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange's face grew deathly pale, and 
 betrayed the utmost terror. The magistrate thought that 
 at last doubt had begun to effect her pure and noble belief. 
 " He must, then, have been mad," she murmured. 
 
 " Possibly," replied the magistrate ; " and yet the cir- 
 cumstances of the crime denote a well-laid plan. Believe 
 me, then, mademoiselle, and do not be too confident. 
 Pray, and wait patiently for the issue of this terrible trial. 
 Listen to my voice, it is that of a friend. You used to 
 
2^2 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 have in me the confidence a daughter gives to her father, 
 you told me so ; do not, then, refuse my advice. Remain 
 silent and wait. Hide your grief to all ; you might here- 
 after regret having exposed it. Young, inexperienced, 
 without a guide, without a mother, alas ! you sadly mis- 
 placed your first affections." 
 
 " No, sir, no," stammered Claire. " Ah ! she added, 
 " you talk like the rest of the world, that prudent and 
 egotistical world, which I despise and hate." 
 
 " Poor child," continued M. Daburon, pitiless even in 
 his compassion, " unhappy young girl ! This is your first 
 deception ! Nothing more terrible could be imagined ; 
 few women would know how to bear it. But you are 
 young ; you are brave ; your life will not be ruined. Here- 
 after you will feel horrified at this crime. There is no 
 wound, I know by experience, which time does not heal." 
 
 Claire tried to grasp what the magistrate was saying, 
 but his words reached her only as confused sounds, their 
 meaning entirely escaped her. " I do not understand you, 
 sir," she said. " What advice, then, do you give me ? ". 
 
 " The only advice that reason dictates, and that my 
 affection for you can suggest, mademoiselle. I speak to 
 you as a kind and devoted brother. I say to you : ' Cour- 
 age, Claire, resign yourself to the saddest, the greatest 
 sacrifice which honour can ask of a young girl. Weep, 
 yes, weep for your deceived love ; but forget it. Pray 
 heaven to help you do so. He whom you have loved is 
 no longer worthy of you.' " 
 
 The magistrate stopped slightly frightened. Mademoi- 
 selle d'Arlange had become livid. But though the body 
 was weak, the soul still remained firm. " You said, just 
 now," she murmured, " that he could only have committed 
 this crime in a moment of distraction, in a fit of madness ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is possible." 
 
 "Then, sir, not knowing what he did, he can not be 
 guilty." 
 
 The investigating magistrate forgot a certain trouble- 
 some question, which he put to himself one morning in 
 bed after his illness. " Neither justice nor society, made- 
 moiselle," he replied, " can take that into account. God 
 alone, who sees into the depths of our hearts, can judge, 
 can decide those questions which human justice must pass 
 by. In our eyes, M. de Commarin is a criminal. There 
 
THE LEKOUGE CASE. 233 
 
 may be certain extenuating circumstances to soften the 
 punishment ; but the moral effect will be the same. Even 
 if he were acquitted, and I wish he may be, but without 
 hope, he will not be less unworthy. He will always carry 
 the dishonour, the stain of blood cowardly shed. There- 
 fore, forget him." 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange stopped the magistrate with a 
 look in which flashed the strongest resentment. "That is 
 to say," she exclaimed, " that you counsel me to abandon 
 him in his misfortune. All the world deserts him ; and 
 your prudence advises me to act with the world. Men 
 behave thus, I have heard, when one of their friends is 
 down ; but women never do. Look about you ; however 
 humiliated, however wretched, however low, a man may 
 be, you will always find a woman near to sustain and 
 console him. When the last friend has boldly taken to 
 flight, when the last relation has abandoned him, woman 
 remains." 
 
 The magistrate regretted having been carried away per- 
 haps a little too far. Claire's excitement frightened him. 
 He tried, but in vain, to stop her. 
 
 " I may be timid," she continued with increasing energy, 
 but I am no coward. I chose Albert voluntarily from 
 amongst all. Whatever happens, I will never desert him. 
 No, I will never say, ' I do not know this man.' He would 
 have given me half of his prosperity, and of his glory. I 
 will share, whether he wishes it or not, half of his shame 
 and of his misfortune. Between two, the burden will be 
 less heavy to bear. Strike ! I will cling so closely to him 
 that no blow shall touch him without reaching me, too. 
 You counsel me to forget him. Teach me, then, how to. 
 I forget him ? Could I, even if I wished ? But I do not 
 wish it. I love him. It is no more in my power to cease 
 loving him than it is to arrest, by the sole effort of my will, 
 the beating of my heart. He is a prisoner, accused of 
 murder. So be it. I love him. He is guilty ! What of 
 that? I love him. You will condemn him, you will dis- 
 honour him. Condemned and dishonoured,.! shall love 
 him still. You will send him to a convict prison. I will 
 follow him ; and in the prison, under the convict's dress, 
 I will yet love him. If he falls to the bottom of the abyss, 
 I will fall with him. My life is his, let him dispose of it. 
 No, nothing will separate me from him, nothing short of 
 
234 THE LEROUGE CASE 
 
 death ! And, if he must mount the scaffold, I shall die, 1 
 know it, from the blow which kills him." 
 
 M. Daburon had buried his face in his hands. He did 
 not wish Claire to perceive a 'trace of the emotion which 
 affected him. " How she loves him ! " he thought, " how 
 she loves him ! " His mind was sunk in the darkest 
 thoughts. All the stings of jealousy were rending him. 
 What would not be his delight, if he were the object of so 
 irresistible a passion as that which burst forth before him ! 
 What would he not give in return ! He had, too, a young 
 and ardent soul, a burning thirst for love. But who had 
 ever thought of that ? He had been esteemed, respected, 
 perhaps feared, but not loved ; and he never would be. 
 Was he, then, unworthy of it ? Why do so many men pass 
 through life dispossessed of love, while others, the vilest 
 beings sometimes, seem to possess a mysterious power, 
 which charms and seduces, and inspires those blind and 
 impetuous feelings which to assert themselves rush to the 
 sacrifice all the while longing for it ? Have women, then, 
 no reason, no discernment ? 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange's silence brought the magistrate 
 back to the reality. He raised his eyes to her. Over- 
 come by the violence of her emotion, she lay back in her 
 chair, and breathed with such difficulty that M. Daburon 
 feared she was about to faint. He moved quickly towards 
 the bell, to summon aid ; but Claire noticed the movement, 
 and stopped him. " What would you do ? " she asked. 
 
 " You seemed suffering so," he stammered, " that I " 
 
 "It is nothing, sir," replied she. " I may seem weak ; 
 but I am not so. I am strong, believe me, very strong. 
 It is true that I suffer, as I never believed that one could 
 suffer. It is cruel for a young girl to have to do violence 
 to all her feelings. You ought to be satisfied, sir. I have 
 torn aside all veils ; and you have read even the inmost re- 
 cesses of my heart. But I do not regret it ; it was for his 
 sake. That which I do regret is my having lowered my 
 self so far as to defend him ; but he will forgive me that 
 one doubt. Your assurance took me unawares. A man 
 like him does not need defence : his innocence must be 
 proved ; and, God helping me, I will prove it." 
 
 As Claire was half-rising to depart, M. Daburon de- 
 tained her by a gesture. In his blindness, he thought he 
 would be doing wrong to leave this poor young girl in the 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 235 
 
 
 
 slightest way deceived. Having gone so far as to begin, 
 he persuaded himself that his duty bade him go on to the 
 end. He said to himself, in all good faith, that he would 
 thus preserve Claire from herself, and spare her in the 
 future many bitter regrets. The surgeon who has com- 
 menced a painful operation does not leave it half-finished 
 because the patient struggles, suffers, and cries out. " It 
 is painful, Mademois-elle, " he began. 
 
 Claire did not let him finish. " Enough, sir," said she : 
 " all that you can say will be of no avail. I respect your 
 unhappy conviction. I ask, in return, the same regard for 
 mine. If you were truly my friend, I would ask you to aid 
 me in the task of saving him, to which I am about to de- 
 vote myself. But, doubtless, you would not do so." 
 
 " If you knew the proofs which I possess, mademoiselle," 
 he said in a cold tone, which expressed his determination 
 not to give way to anger, "if I detailed them to you 
 you would no longer hope." 
 
 " Speak, sir," cried Claire imperiously, 
 
 " You wish it, mademoiselle ? Very well ; I will give 
 you in detail all the evidence we have collected. I am 
 entirely yours, as you are aware. But yet, why should I 
 harass you with all these proofs ? There is one which 
 alone is decisive. The murder was committed on the 
 evening of Shrove Tuesday : and the prisoner cannot give 
 an account of what he did on that evening. He went out, 
 however, and only returned home about two o'clock in the 
 morning, his clothes soiled and torn, and his gloves 
 frayed." 
 
 " Oh ! enough, sir, enough ! " interrupted Claire, whose 
 eyes beamed once more with happiness. " You say it was 
 on Shrove Tuesday evening ? " 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Ah ! I was sure," she cried triumphantly. " I told you 
 truly that he could not be guilty." 
 
 She clasped her hands, and, from the movement of her 
 lips, it was evident that she was praying. The expression 
 of the most perfect faith represented by some of the.Italian 
 painters illuminated her beautiful face while she rendered 
 thanks to God in the effusion of her gratitude. 
 
 The magistrate was so disconcerted, that he forgot to 
 admire her. He awaited an explanation. " Well ? " he 
 asked impatiently. 
 
2.30 THK LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 " Sir," replied Claire, " if that is your strongest proof, it 
 exists no longer. Albert passed the entire evening you 
 speak of with me." 
 
 " With you ? " stammered the magistrate. 
 
 " Yes, with me, at my home." 
 
 M. Daburon was astounded. Was he dreaming ? Ho 
 hardly knew. 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed, " the viscount was at youi 
 house ? Your grandmother, your companion, your ser- 
 vants, they all saw him and spoke to him ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; he came and left in secret. He wished no 
 one to see him ; he desired to be alone with me." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the magistrate with a sigh of relief. 
 
 The sigh signified : " It's all clear only too evident. 
 She is determined to save him, at the risk even of com- 
 promising her reputation. Poor girl ! But has this idea 
 only just occurred to her ? " 
 
 The " Ah ! " was interpreted very differently by Mad- 
 emoiselle d'Arlange. She thought that M. Daburon was 
 astonished at her consenting to receive Albert. 
 
 " Your surprise is an insult, sir," said she. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! " 
 
 " A daughter of my family, sir, may receive her betrothed 
 without danger of anything occurring for which she would 
 have to blush." 
 
 She spoke thus, and at the same timeVas red with shame, 
 grief, and anger. She began to hate M. Daburon. 
 
 " I had no such insulting thought as you imagine, mad- 
 emoiselle," said the magistrate. " I was only wondering 
 how M. de Commarin went secretly to your house, when 
 his approaching marriage gave him the right to present 
 himself openly at all hours. I still wonder, how, on such a 
 visit, he could get his clothes in the condition in which we 
 found them." 
 
 " That is to say, sir," replied Claire bitterly, " that you 
 doubt my word ! " 
 
 " The circumstances are such, mademoiselle, " 
 
 " You accuse me, then, of falsehood, sir. Know that, 
 were we criminals, we should not descend to justifying 
 ourselves ; we should never pray nor ask for pardon." 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange's haughty, contemptuous tone 
 could only anger the magistrate. How harshly she treated 
 him ! And simply because he would not consent to be 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 237 
 
 her dupe. " Above all, mademoiselle," he answered se- 
 verely, " I am a magistrate : and I have a duty to perform. 
 A crime has been committed. Everything points to M. 
 Albert de Commarin as the guilty man. I arrest him ; I 
 examine him ; and I find overwhelming proofs against him. 
 You come and tell me that they are false ; that is not 
 enough. So long as you addressed me as a friend, you 
 found me kind and gentle. Now it is the magistrate to 
 whom you speak : and it is the magistrate who answers, 
 ' Prove it. ' ' 
 
 " My word, sir, " 
 
 " Prove it ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange rose slowly, casting upon the 
 magistrate a look full of astonishment and suspicion. 
 " Would you, then, be glad, sir," she asked, " to find Albert 
 guilty ? Would it give you such great pleasure to have 
 him convicted ? Do you then hate this prisoner, whose 
 fate is in your hands ? One would almost think so. Can 
 you answer for your impartiality ? Do not certain memo- 
 ries weigh heavily in the scale ? Are you sure that you 
 are not, armed with the law, revenging yourself upon a 
 rival ? " 
 
 " This is too much," murmured the magistrate, " this is 
 too much ! " 
 
 " Do you know the unusual, the dangerous position we 
 are in at this moment ? One day, I remember, you declared 
 your love for me. It appeared to me sincere and honest ; 
 it touched me. I was obliged to refuse you, because I 
 loved another ; and I pitied you. Now that other is accused 
 of murder, and you are his judge ; and I find myself between 
 you two, praying to you for him. In undertaking the 
 investigation you acquired an opportunity to help him ; and 
 yet you seem to be against him." 
 
 Every word Claire uttered fell upon M. Daburon's heart 
 like a slap on his face. Was it really she who was speak 
 ing ? Whence came this sudden boldness, which made her 
 choose all those words which found an echo in his heart ? 
 " Mademoiselle," said he, " your grief has been too much 
 for you. From you alone could I pardon what you have 
 just said. Your ignorance of things makes you unjust. If 
 you think that Albert's fate depends upon my pleasure, you 
 are mistaken. To convince me is nothing ; it is necessary 
 to convince others. That I should believe you is all very 
 
2 3 S THE LEROUGE CAS. 
 
 natural, I know you. But what weight will others attach 
 to your testimony, when you go to them with a truestory 
 most true, I believe, but yet highly improbable ? " 
 
 Tears came into Claire's eyes. " If I have unjustly 
 offended you, sir," said she, " pardon me : misfortune makes 
 one wicked." 
 
 "You cannot offend me, mademoiselle," replied the 
 magistrate. " I have already told you that I am devoted 
 to your service." 
 
 " Then sir, help me to prove the truth of what I have 
 said. I will tell you everything." 
 
 M. Daburon was fully convinced that Claire was seeking 
 to deceive him ; but her confidence astonished him. He 
 wondered what fable she was about to concoct. 
 
 " Sir," began Claire, " you know what obstacles have 
 stood in the way of my marriage with Albert. The Count 
 de Commarin would not accept me for a daughter-in-law, 
 because I am poor, I possess nothing. It took Albert five 
 years to triumph over his father's objections. Twice the 
 count yielded : twice he recalled his consent, which he said 
 had been extorted from him. At last, about a month ago, 
 he gave his consent of his own accord. 'But these hesita- 
 tions, delays, refusals, had deeply hurt my grandmother. 
 You know her sensitive nature ; and, in this case, I must 
 confess she was right. Though the wedding day had been 
 fixed, the marchioness declared that we should not be 
 compromised nor laughed at again for any apparent haste 
 to contract a marriage so advantageous, that we had often 
 before been accused of ambition. She decided, therefore, 
 that, until the publication of the banns, Albert should only 
 be admitted into the house every other day, for two hours 
 in the afternoon, and in her presence. We could not get 
 her to alter this determination. Such was the state of 
 affairs, when, on Sunday morning, a note came to me from 
 Albert. He told me that pressing business would prevent 
 his coming, although it was his regular day. What could 
 have happened to keep him away ? I feared some evil. 
 The next day I awaited him impatiently and distracted, 
 when his valet brought Schmidt a note for me. In that 
 letter, sir, Albert entreated me to grant him an interview. 
 It was necessary, he wrote, that he should have a long 
 conversation with me, alone, and without delay. Our whole 
 future, he added, depended upon this interview. He left 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 239 
 
 me to fix the day and hour, urging me to confide in no one. 
 I did not hesitate. I sent him word to meet me on the 
 Tuesday evening, at the little garden gate, which opens into 
 an unfrequented street. To inform me of his presence, he 
 was to knock just as nine o'clock chimed at the Invalides, 
 I knew that my grandmother had invited a number of her 
 friends for that evening ; and I thought that, by pretexing 
 a headache, I might retire early, and so be free. " I ex- 
 pected, also, that Madame d'Arlange would keep Schmidt 
 with her.'* 
 
 " Excuse me, mademoiselle," interrupted M. Daburon, 
 " what day did you write to M. Albert ? " 
 
 " On Tuesday." 
 
 " Can you fix the hour ? " 
 
 " I must have sent the letter between two and three 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Thanks, mademoiselle. Continue, I pray." 
 
 " All my anticipations," continued Claire, " were realised. 
 I retired during the evening, and I went into the garden a 
 little before the appointed time. I had procured the key 
 of the little door ; and I at once tried it. Unfortunately, 
 I could not make it turn, the lock was so rusty. I exerted 
 all my strength in vain. I was in despair, when nine o'clock 
 struck. At the third stroke, Albert knocked. I told him 
 of the accident ; and I threw him the key, that he might 
 try and unlock the door. He tried but without success. 
 I then begged him to postpone our interview. He replied 
 that it was impossible, that what he had to say admitted of 
 no delay ; that, during three days he had hesitated about 
 confiding in me, and had suffered martyrdom, and that he 
 could endure it no longer. We were speaking, you must 
 understand, through the door. At last, he declared that 
 he would climb over the wall. I begged him not to do so, 
 fearing an accident. The wall is very high, as you know, 
 the top is covered with pieces of broken glass, and the 
 acacia branches stretch out above like a hedge. But he 
 laughed at my fears, and said that, unless I absolutely 
 forbade him to do so, he was going to attempt to scale the 
 wall. I dared not say no ; and he risked it. I was very 
 frightened, and trembled like a leaf. Fortunately, he is 
 very active, and got over without hurting himself. He had 
 come, sir, to tell me of the misfortune which had befallen 
 him. We first of all sat down upon the little seat you know 
 
240 THE LEROUCE CASE. 
 
 of, in front of the grove : then, as the rain was falling, we 
 took shelter in the summer house. It was past midnight 
 when Albert left me, quieted and almost gay. He went 
 back in the same manner, only with less danger, because I 
 made him use the gardener's ladder, which I laid down 
 alongside the wall when he had reached the other side." 
 
 This account, given in the simplest and most natural 
 manner, puzzled M. Daburon. What was he to think ? 
 " Mademoiselle," he asked, " had the rain commenced to 
 fall when M. Albert climbed over the wall ? " 
 
 " No, sir, the first drops fell when we were on the seat. 
 I recollect it very well, because he opened his umbrella, 
 and I thought of Paul and Virginia." 
 
 " Excuse me a minute, mademoiselle," said the magis- 
 trate. 
 
 He sat down at his desk, and rapidly wrote two letters. 
 In the first, he gave orders for Albert to be brought at 
 once to his office in the Palais de Justice. In the second, 
 he directed a detective to go immediately to the Faubourg 
 St. Germain to the d'Arlange house, and examine the wall 
 at the bottom of the garden, and make a note of any 
 marks of its having been scaled, if any such existed. He 
 explained that the wall had been climbed twice, both be- 
 fore and during the rain ; consequently the marks of the 
 going and returning would be different from each other. 
 He enjoined upon the detective to proceed with the ut- 
 most caution, and to invent a plausible pretext which 
 would explain his investigations. 
 
 Having finished writing, the magistrate rang for his ser- 
 vant, who soon appeared. " Here," said he, " are two 
 letters, which you must take to my clerk, Constant. Tell 
 him to read them, and to have the orders they contain 
 executed at once, at onc%, you understand. Run, take a 
 cab, and be quick ! Ah ! one word. If Constant is not 
 in my office, have him sought for ; he will not be far off, as 
 he is waiting for me. Go quickly ! " 
 
 M. Daburon then turned and said to Claire. " Have 
 you kept the letter, mademoiselle, in which M. Albert 
 asked for this interview ? " 
 
 " Yes. sir, I even think I have it with me." She arose, 
 felt in her pocket, and drew out a much crumpled piece of 
 paper. " Here it is ! " 
 
 The investigating magistrate took it. A suspicion crossed 
 
THE f.E ROGUE CASE. 241 
 
 his mind. This compromising letter happened to be ver} 
 conveniently in Claire's pocket ; and yet young girls do 
 not usually carry about with them requests for secret inter- 
 views. At a glance, he read the ten lines of the note. 
 " No date," he murmured, " no stamp, nothing at all." 
 
 Claire did not hear him ; she was racking her brain to 
 find other proofs of the interview. " Sir," said she sud- 
 denly, " it often happens, that when we wish to be, and 
 believe ourselves alone, we are nevertheless observed. 
 Summon, I beseech you, all of my grandmother's servants, 
 and inquire if any of them saw Albert that night." 
 
 " Inquire of your servants ! Can you dream of such a 
 thing, mademoiselle ? " 
 
 "What, sir? You fear that I shall be compromised. 
 What of that, if he is only freed ? " 
 
 M. Daburon could not help admiring her. What sub- 
 lime devotion in this young girl, whether she spoke the 
 truth or not ! He could understand the violence she had 
 been doing to her feelings during the past hour, he who 
 knew her character so well. 
 
 " That is not all," she added ; " the key which I threw 
 to Albert, he did not return it to me ; he must have forgot- 
 ten to do so. If it is found in his possession, it will well 
 prove that he was in the garden." 
 
 " I will give orders respecting it, mademoiselle." 
 
 " There is still another thing," continued Claire , " while 
 I am here, send some one to examine the wall." 
 
 She seemed to think of everything. 
 
 "That is already done, mademoiselle," replied M. 
 Daburon. " I will not hide from you that one of the let- 
 ters which I have just sent off ordered an examination of 
 your grandmother's wall, a secret examination, though, be 
 assured." 
 
 Claire rose joyfully, and for the second time held out 
 her hand to the magistrate. " Oh, thanks ! " she said, " a 
 thousand thanks! Now I can well see that you are with 
 me. But I have still another idea : Albert ought to have 
 the note I wrote on Tuesday." 
 
 " No, mademoiselle, he burnt it." 
 
 Claire drew back. She imagined she felt a touch of irony 
 
 in the magistrate's reply. There was none, however. M. 
 
 Daburon remembered the letter thrown into the fire by 
 
 Albert on the Tuesday afternoon. It could only have 
 
 16 
 
242 Till-: LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 been the one Claire had sent him. It was to her, then, 
 that the words, "She cannot resist me," applied. He un 
 derstood, now, the action and the remark. 
 
 " Can you understand, mademoiselle," he next asked, 
 " how M. de Commarin could lead justice astray, and ex- 
 pose me to committing a most deplorable error, when it 
 would have been so easy to have told me all this ? " 
 
 "It seems to me, sir, that an honourable man cannot 
 confess that he has obtained a secret interview from a 
 lady, until he has full permission from her to do so. He 
 ought to risk his life sooner than the honour of her 
 who has trusted in him ; but be assured Albert relied on 
 me." 
 
 There was nothing to reply to this ; and the sentiments 
 expressed by Mademoiselle d'Arlange gave a meaning to 
 one of Albert's replies in the examination. 
 
 "This is not all yet, mademoiselle," continued the mag- 
 istrate ; " all that you have told me here, you must repeat 
 in my office, at the Palais de Justice. My clerk will take 
 down your testimony, and you must sign it. This pro- 
 ceeding will be painful to you ; but it is a necessary 
 formality'." 
 
 " Ah, sir, I will do so with pleasure. What can I refuse, 
 when I know that he is in prison? I was determined to 
 do everything. If he had been tried at the assizes, I 
 would have gone there. Yes, I would have presented my- 
 self, and there before all I would have told the truth. 
 Doubtless," she added sadly, " I should have been greatly 
 compromised. I should have been looked upon as a hero- 
 ine of romance ; but what matters public opinion, the 
 blame or approval of the world, since I am sure of his 
 love ? " 
 
 She rose from her seat, readjusting her cloak and the 
 strings of her bonnet. " Is it necessary," she asked " that 
 I should await the return of the police agents who are ex- 
 amining the wall ? " 
 
 " It is needless, mademoiselle." 
 
 " Then," she continued in a sweet voice, " I can only 
 beseech you," she clasped her hands, " conjure you," her 
 eyes implored, " to let Albert out of prison." 
 
 " He shall be liberated as soon as possible ; I give you 
 my word." 
 
 " Oh, to-day, dear M. Daburon, to-day, I beg of you, 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 243 
 
 now, at once ! Since he is innocent, be kind, for you are 
 our friend. Do you wish me to go down on my knees ? " 
 
 The magistrate had only just time to extend his arms, 
 and prevent her. He was choking with emotion, the un- 
 happy man ! Ah ! how much he envied the prisoner's 
 lot! 
 
 "That which you ask of me is impossible, mademoi- 
 selle," said he in an almost inaudible voice, " impractica- 
 ble, upon my honour. Ah ! if it depended upon me alone, 
 I could not, even were he guilty, see you weep, and resist.' 
 
 Madamemoiselle d'Arlange, hitherto so firm, could no 
 longer restrain her sobs. " Miserable girl that I am ! " 
 she cried, " he is suffering, he is in prison ; I am free, and 
 yet I can do nothing for him ! Great heaven ! inspire me 
 with accents to touch the hearts of men ! At whose feet 
 must I cast myself to obtain his pardon ? " She suddenly 
 stopped, surprised at having uttered such a word. " Par- 
 don ! " she repeated fiercely ; " he has no need of pardon. 
 Why am I only a woman ? Can I not find one man 
 who will help me ? Yes," she said after a moment's reflec- 
 tion, " there is one man who owes himself to Albert ; since 
 he it was who put him in this position, the Count de 
 Commarin. He is his father, and yet he has abandoned 
 him. Ah, well ! I will remind him that he still has a son." 
 
 The magistrate rose to see her to the door ; but she had 
 already disappeared, taking the kind-hearted Schmidt with 
 her. 
 
 M. Daburon, more dead than alive, sank back again in 
 his chair. His eyes filled with tears. "And that is what 
 she is ! " he murmured. " Ah ! I made no vulgar choice. 
 I had divined and understood all her good qualities." 
 
 He had never loved her so much ; and he felt that he 
 would never be consoled for not having won her love in re- 
 turn. But, in the midst of his meditations, a sudden thought 
 passed like a flash across his brain. Had Claire spoken 
 the truth? Had she not been playing a part previously 
 prepared ? No, most decidedly no ! But she might have 
 been herself deceived, might have been the dupe of some 
 skillful trick. In that case old Tabaret's prediction was 
 now realised. Tabaret had said : " Look out for an in- 
 disputable alibi." How could he show the falsity of this 
 one, planned in advance, affirmed by Claire, who was her- 
 self deceived ? How could he expose a plan, so well laid 
 
244 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 that the prisoner had been able without danger to await 
 certain results, with his arms folded, and without himself 
 moving in the matter ? And yet, if Claire's story were 
 true, and Albert innocent ! The magistrate struggled in 
 midst of inextricable difficulties, without a plan, without 
 an idea. 
 
 He arose. " Oh ! " he said in a loud voice, as though 
 encouraging himself, " at the Palais, all will be unravelled." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 M. DABURON had been surprised at Claire's visit. M. de 
 Commarin was still more so, when his valet whispered to 
 him that Mademoiselle d'Arlange desired a moment's con- 
 versation with him. M. Daburon had broken a handsome 
 card-plate ; M. de Commarin, who was at breakfast, 
 dropped his knife on his plate. 
 
 Like the magistrate he exclaimed, " Claire ! " 
 
 He hesitated to receive her, fearing a painful and disa- 
 greeable scene. She could only have, as he knew, a very 
 slight affection for him, who had for so long repulsed her 
 with such obstinacy. What could she want with him ? 
 To inquire about Albert, of course. And what could he 
 reply ? She would probably have some nervous attack or 
 other ; and he would be thoroughly upset. However, he 
 thought of how much she must have suffered ; and he 
 pitied her. 
 
 He felt, that it would be cruel, as well as unworthy of 
 him, to keep away from her who was to have been his 
 daughter-in-law, the Viscountess de Commarin. He sent 
 a message, asking her to wait a few minutes in one of the 
 little drawing-rooms on the ground floor. He did not keep 
 her waiting long, his appetite having been destroyed by 
 the mere announcement of her visit. He was fully pre- 
 pared for anything disagreeable. 
 
 As soon as he appeared, Claire saluted him with one of 
 those graceful, yet highly dignified bows, which distin- 
 guished the Marchioness d'Arlange. " Sir ," she began. 
 
 " You come, do you not, my poor child, to obtain news 
 of the unhappy boy ? '' asked M. de Commarin. He inter- 
 rupted Claire, and went straight to the point, in order to 
 get the disagreeable business moie quickly over. 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 245 
 
 " No sir," replied the young girl , " I come, on the con- 
 trary, to bring you news. Albert is innocent." 
 
 The count looked at her most attentively, persuaded 
 that grief had affected her reason ; but in that case her 
 madness was very quiet. 
 
 " I never doubted it," continued Claire ; " but now I have 
 the most positive proof." 
 
 " Are you quite sure of what you are saying ? " inquired 
 the count, whose eyes betrayed his doubt. 
 
 Mademoiselle d'Arlange understood his thoughts ; her 
 interview with M. Daburon had given her experience. " I 
 state nothing which is not of the utmost accuracy," she re- 
 plied, " and easily proved. I have just come from M. Da- 
 buron, the investigating magistrate, who is one of my 
 grandmother's friends ; and, after what I told him, he is 
 convinced that Albert is innocent." 
 
 " He told you that, Claire ! " exclaimed the count. " My 
 child, are you sure, are you not mistaken ? " 
 
 " No, sir. I told him something, of which every one 
 was ignorant, and of which Albert, who is a gentleman, 
 could not speak. I told him that Albert passed with me, 
 in my grandmother's garden, all that evening on which the 
 crime was committed. He had asked to see me " 
 
 " But your word will not be sufficient." 
 
 " There are proofs, and justice has them by this time." 
 
 " Heavens ! Is it really possible ? " cried the count, who 
 was beside himself. 
 
 " Ah. sir ! " said Mademoiselle d'Arlange bitterly, 
 " you are like the magistrate : you believed in the impos> 
 sible. You are his father, and you suspected him ! 
 You do not know him, then. You were abandoning him, 
 without trying to defend him. Ah, I did not hesitate one 
 moment ! " 
 
 One is easily induced to believe true that which one is 
 anxiously longing for. M. de Commarin was not difficult 
 to convince. Without thinking, without discussion, he 
 put faith in Claire's assertions. He shared her convic- 
 tions, without asking himself whether it were wise or pru- 
 dent to do so. Yes, he had been overcome by the magis- 
 trate's certitude, he had told himself that what was most 
 unlikely was true ; and he had bowed his head. One word 
 from a young girl had upset this conviction. Albert inno- 
 cent ! The thought descended upon his heart like heav- 
 
246 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 enly dew. Claire appeared to him like a bearer of happi- 
 nc."S and hope. During the last three days, he had discov- 
 ered how great was his affection for Albert. He had 
 loved him tenderly , for he had never been able to discard 
 him, in spite of his frightful suspicions as to his paternity 
 For three days, the knowledge of the crime imputed to his 
 unhappy son, the thought of the punishment which awaited 
 him, had nearly killed the father. And after all he was in- 
 nocent ! No more shame, no more scandalous trial, no 
 more stains upon the escutcheon , the name of Commaria 
 would not be heard at the assizes. 
 
 " But, then, mademoiselle," asked the count, " are they 
 going to release him ? " 
 
 " Alas ! sir, I demanded that they should at once set 
 him at liberty. It is just, is it not, since he is not guilty ? 
 But the magistrate replied that it was not possible ; that 
 he was not the master ; that Albert's fate depended on 
 many others. It was then that I resolved to come to you 
 for aid." 
 
 " Can I then do something ? " 
 
 " I at least hope so. I am only a poor girl, very igno- 
 rant ; and I know no one in the world. I do not know 
 what can be done to get him released from prison. There 
 ought, however, to be some means for obtaining justice. 
 Will you not try all that can be done, sir, you, who are his 
 father ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied M. cle Commarin quickly, " yes, and 
 without losing a minute." 
 
 Since Albert's arrest, the count had been plunged in a 
 dull stupor. In his profound grief, seeing only ruin and 
 disaster about him, he had done nothing to shake off this 
 mental paralysis. Ordinarily very active, he now sat all 
 day long without moving. He seemed to enjoy a condi- 
 tion which prevented his feeling the immensity of his mis- 
 fortune. Claire's voice sounded in his ear like the resur- 
 rection trumpet. The frightful darkness was dispelled ; 
 he saw a glimmering in the horizon; he recovered the 
 energy of his youth. " Let us go," he said. 
 
 Suddenly the radiance in his face changed to sadness, 
 mixed with anger. 
 
 " But where," he asked. " At what door shall we knock 
 with any hope of success ? In the olden times, I would 
 have sought the king. But to-day ! Even the emperor 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 247 
 
 himself cannot interfere with the law. He will tell me to 
 await the decision of the tribunals, that he can do nothing. 
 Wait ! And Albert is counting the minutes in mortal 
 agony! We shall certainly have justice ; but to obtain it 
 promptly is an art taught in schools that I have not fre- 
 quented." 
 
 " Let us try, at least, sir," persisted Claire. " Let us 
 seek out judges, generals, ministers, any one. Only lead 
 me to them. I will speak ; and you shall see if we do not 
 succeed." 
 
 The count took Claire's little hands between his own, 
 and held them a moment pressing them with paternal 
 tenderness. " Brave girl ! " he cried, " you are a noble, 
 courageous woman, Claire ! Good blood never fails. I 
 did not know you. Yes, you shall be my daughter ; and 
 you shall be happy together, Albert and you. But we must 
 not rush about everywhere, like wild geese. We need 
 some one to tell us whom we should address, some guide, 
 lawyer,- barrister. Ah ! " he cried, " I have it, Noel ! " 
 
 Claire raised her eyes to the count's in surprise. 
 
 " He is my son," replied M. de Commarin, evidently 
 embarrassed, " my other son, Albert's brother. The best 
 and worthiest of men," he added, repeating quite appro- 
 priately a phrase already uttered by M. Daburon. " He is 
 a barrister ; he knows all about the Palais ; he will tell us 
 what to do." 
 
 Noel's name, thus thrown into the midst of this conver- 
 sation so full of hope, oppressed Claire's heart. The count 
 perceived her affright. " Do not feel anxious, clear child," 
 he said. Noel is good ; and I will tell you more, he loves 
 Albert. Do not shake your head so ; Noel told me him- 
 self, on this very spot, that he did not believe Albert guilty. 
 He declared that he intended doing everything to dispel 
 the fatal mistake, and that he would be his barrister." 
 
 These assertions did not seem to reassure the young 
 girl. She thought to herself, " What then has this Noel 
 done for Albert ? " But she made no remark. 
 
 u I will send for him," continued M. de Commarin ; "he 
 is now with Albert's mother, who brought him up, and who 
 is now on her deathbed." 
 
 "Albert's mother!" 
 
 " Yes, my child. Albert will explain to you what may 
 
2 4 S 7777i I.EROUGE CASE. 
 
 perhaps seem to you an enigma. Now time presses. But 
 L think" 
 
 He stopped suddenly. He thought, that, instead of 
 sending for Noel at Madame Gerdy's, he might go there 
 himself. He would thus see Valerie ! and he had longed 
 to see her again so much ! It was one of those actions 
 which the heart urges, but which one does not dare risk, 
 because a thousand subtle reasons and interests are against 
 it. One wishes, desires, and even longs for it ; and yet one 
 struggles, combats, and resists. But, if an opportunity 
 occurs, one is only too happy to seize it ; then one has an 
 excuse with which to silence one's conscience. 
 
 In thus yielding to the impulse of one's feelings, one can 
 say : " It was not I who willed it, it was fate." 
 
 " It will be quicker, perhaps," observed the count, "to 
 go to Noel.'' 
 
 " Let us start then, sir." 
 
 " I hardly know though, my child," said the old gentle- 
 man, hesitating, " whether I may, whether I ought to take 
 you with me. Propriety " 
 
 "Ah, sir, propriety has nothing to do with it!" replied 
 Claire impetuously. " With you, and for his sake, I can 
 go anywhere. Is it not indispensable that I should give 
 some explanations ? Only send word to my grandmother 
 by Schmidt, who will come back here and await my return. 
 I am ready, sir." 
 
 " Very well, then," said the count. 
 
 Then, ringing the bell violently, he called to the servant : 
 " My carriage." 
 
 In descending the steps, he insisted upon Claire's taking 
 his arm. The gallant and elegant politeness of the friend 
 of .the Count d'Artois reappeared. 
 
 " You have taken twenty years from my age," he said ; 
 " it is but right that I should devote to you the youth you 
 have restored to me." 
 
 As soon as Claire had entered the carriage, he said to 
 the footman : " Rue St. Lazare, quick ! " 
 
 Whenever the count said " quick," on entering his car- 
 riage, the pedestrians had to get out of the way. But the 
 coachman was a skillful driver, and arrived without acci- 
 dent. Aided by the concierge's directions, the count and 
 the young girl went towards Madame Gerdy's apartments. 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 249 
 
 The count mounted slowly, holding tightly to the balus- 
 trade, stopping at every landing to recover his breath. He 
 was, then, about to see her again ! His emotion pressed 
 his heart like a vice. 
 
 " M. Noel Gerdy ? " he asked of the servant. 
 
 The barrister had just that moment gone out. She did 
 not know where he had gone ; but he had said he should 
 not be out more than half an hour. 
 
 "We will wait for him, then." said the count. 
 
 He advanced ; and the servant drew back to let them 
 pass. Noel had strictly forbidden her to admit any visit- 
 ors ; but the Count de Commarin was one of those whose 
 appearance makes servants forget all their orders. Three 
 persons were in the room iato which the servant introduced 
 the count and Mademoiselle d'Arlange. They were the 
 parish priest, the doctor, and a tall man, an officer of the 
 Legion of Honour, whose figure and bearing indicated the 
 old soldier. They were conversing near the fireplace, and 
 the arrival of strangers appeared to astonish them exceed- 
 ingly. In bowing, in response to M. de Commarin's and 
 Claire's salutations, they seemed to inquire their business : 
 but this hesitation was brief, for the soldier almost imme- 
 diately offered Mademoiselle d'Arlange a chair. 
 
 The count considered that his presence was inoppor- 
 tune ; and he thought that he was called upon to introduce 
 himself, and explain his visit. 
 
 " You will excuse me, gentlemen,'' said he, " if I am 
 indiscreet. I did not think of being so when I asked to 
 wait for Noel, whom I have the most pressing need of 
 seeing. I am the Count de Commarin." 
 
 At this name, the old soldier let go the back of the 
 chair which he was still holding and haughtily raised his 
 head. An angry light flashed in his eyes, and he made a 
 threatening gesture. His lips moved, as if he were about 
 to speak ; but he restrained himself, and retired, bowing 
 his head, to the window. Neither the count nor the two 
 other men noticed his strange behaviour ; but it did not 
 escape Claire. 
 
 While Mademoiselle d'Arlange sat down, rather sur- 
 prised, the count, much embarrassed at his position, went 
 up to the priest, and asked in a low voice, " What is, I 
 pray, M. 1'Abbe, Madame Gerdy's condition ? " 
 
 The doctor, who had a sharp ear, heard the question, 
 
250 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 and approached quickly. He was very pleased to have 
 an opportunity to speak to a person as celebrated as the 
 Count de Commarin, and to become acquainted with him. 
 " I fear, sir," he said, " that she cannot live throughout 
 the day." 
 
 The count pressed his hand against his forehead, as 
 though he had felt a sudden pain there. He hesitated to 
 inquire further. After a moment of chilling silence, he 
 resolved to go on. " Does she recognise her friends ? " 
 he murmured. 
 
 " No, sir. Since last evening, however, there has been 
 a great change. She was very uneasy all last night : she 
 had moments of fierce delirium. About an hour ago, we 
 thought she was recovering her senses, and we sent for 
 M. T Abbe." 
 
 " Very needlessly, though," put in the priest, " and it is 
 a sad misfortune. Her reason is quite gone. Poor 
 woman ! I have known her ten years, I have been to see 
 her nearly every week ; I never knew a more worthy 
 person." 
 
 " She must suffer dreadfully," said the doctor. 
 
 Almost at the same instantj and as if to bear out the 
 doctor's words, they heard stifled cries from the next room, 
 the door of which was slightly open. 
 
 " Do you hear? " exclaimed the count, trembling from 
 head to foot. 
 
 Claire understood nothing of this strange scene. Dark 
 presentiments oppressed her ; she felt as though she were 
 enveloped in an atmosphere of evil. She grew frightened, 
 rose from her chair, and drew near the count. 
 
 " She is, I presume, in there ? " asked M. de Com- 
 marin. 
 
 " Yes, sir," harshly answered the old soldier, who had 
 also drawn near. 
 
 At any other time, the count would have noticed the 
 soldier's tone, and have resented it. Now, he did not 
 even raise his eyes. He remained insensible to everything. 
 Was she not there, close to him ? His thoughts were in 
 the past ; it seemed to him but yesterday that he had 
 quitted her for the last time. " I should very much like 
 to see her," he said timidly. 
 
 " That is impossible," replied the old soldier. 
 
 " Why ? " stammered the count. 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 251 
 
 " At least, M. de Commarin," replied the soldier, " let 
 her die in peace." 
 
 The count started, as if he had been struck. His eyes 
 encountered the officer's ; he lowered them like a criminal 
 before his judge. 
 
 " Nothing need prevent the count's entering Madame 
 Gerdy's room," put in the doctor, who purposely saw noth- 
 ing of all this. " She would probably not notice his pres- 
 ence ; and if " 
 
 " Oh, she would perceive nothing ! " said the priest. " I 
 have just spoken to her, taken her hand, she remained 
 quite insensible." 
 
 The old soldier reflected deeply. " Enter," said he at 
 last to the count : " perhaps it is God's will." 
 
 The count tottered so that the doctor offered to assist 
 him. He gently motioned him away. The doctor and the 
 priest entered with him : Claire and the old soldier re- 
 mained at the threshold of the door, facing the bed. The 
 count took three or four steps, and was obliged to stop. 
 He wished to, but could not go further. Could this dying 
 woman really be Valerie ? He taxed his memory severely ; 
 nothing in those withered features, nothing in that dis- 
 torted face, recalled the beautiful, the adored Valerie of 
 his youth. He did not recognise her. 
 
 But she knew him, or rather divined his presence. 
 With supernatural strength, she raised herself, exposing 
 her shoulders and emaciated arms ; then pushing away 
 the ice from her forehead, and throwing back her still 
 plentiful hair, bathed with water and perspiration, she 
 cried, " Guy ! Guy ! " 
 
 The count trembled all over. He did not perceive that 
 which immediately struck all the other persons present 
 the transformation in the sick woman. Her contracted 
 features relaxed, a "celestial joy spread over her face, and 
 her eyes, sunken by disease, assumed an expression of 
 infinite tenderness. 
 
 " Guy," said she in a voice heartrending by its sweet- 
 ness, " you have come at last ! How long, O my God ! 
 1 have waited for you ! You cannot think what I have 
 suffered by your absence. I should have died of grief, had 
 it not been for the hope of seeing you again. Who kept 
 you from me ? Your parents again ? How cruel of them ! 
 Did you not tell them that no one could love you here 
 
LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 below as I do ? No, that is not it ; I remember. You 
 were angry when you left me. Your friends wished to 
 separate us ; they said that I was deceiving you with 
 another. Who have I injured that I should have so many 
 enemies ? They envied my happiness ; and we were so 
 happy ! But you did not believe the wicked calumny, you 
 scorned it, for you are here?" 
 
 The nun, who had risen on seeing so many persons 
 enter the sick room, opened her eyes with astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " I deceive you ? " continued the dying woman ; " only 
 a madman would believe it. Am I not yours, your very 
 own, heart and soul ? To me you are everything : and 
 there is nothing I could expect or hope -for from another 
 which you have not already given me. Was I not yours, 
 alone, from the very first ? I never hesitated to give myself 
 entirely to you ; I felt that I was born for you, Guy, do you 
 remember ? I was working for a lace maker, and was 
 barely earning a living. You told me you were a poor 
 student ; I thought you were depriving yourself for me. 
 You insisted on having our little apartment on the Quai 
 Saint-Michel done up. It was lovely, with the new paper 
 all covered with flowers, which we hung ourselves. How 
 delightful it was ! From the window, we could see the 
 great trees of the Tuileries gardens ; and by leaning out a 
 little we could see the sun set through the arches of 
 the bridges. Oh, those happy days ! The first time that 
 we went into the country together, one Sunday, you brought 
 me a more beautiful dress than I had ever dreamed of, and 
 such darling little boots, that it was a shame to walk out 
 in them ! But you had deceived me ! You were not a 
 poor student. One day, when taking my work home, I 
 met you in an elegant carriage, with tall footmen, dressed 
 in liveries covered with gold lace, behind. I could not 
 believe my eyes. That evening you told me the truth, 
 that you were a nobleman and immensely rich. O my 
 darling, why did you tell me ? " 
 
 Had she her reason, or was this a mere delirium ? 
 Great tears rolled down the Count de Commarin's wrink- 
 led face, and the doctor and the priest were touched by 
 the sad spectacle of an old man weeping like a child. 
 Only the previous evening, the count had thought his heart 
 dead ; and now this penetrating voice was sufficient to recall 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 253 
 
 the fresh and powerful feelings of his youth. Yet, how 
 many years had passed away since then ! 
 
 "After that," continued Madame Gerdy, " we left the 
 Quai Saint-Michel. You wished it ; and I obeyed, in spite 
 of my apprehensions. You told me, that, to please you, I 
 ought to look like a great lady. You provided teachers for 
 me, for I was so ignorant that I scarcely knew how to sign 
 my name. Do you remember the queer spelling in my first 
 letter? Ah, Guy, if you had really only been a poor stu- 
 dent ! When I knew that you were so rich, I lost my sim- 
 plicity, my thoughtlessness, my gaiety. I feared that you 
 would think me covetous, that would imagine that your 
 fortune influenced my love. Men who, like you, have mill- 
 ions, must be unhappy ! They must be always doubting and 
 full of suspicions , they can never be sure whether it is 
 themselves or their gold which is loved, and this awful 
 doubt makes them mistrustful, jealous, and cruel. Oh my 
 dearest, why did we leave our dear little room ? There, 
 we were happy. Why did you not leave me always where 
 you first found me ? Did you not know that the s'ght of 
 happiness irritates mankind ? If we had been wise, we 
 would have hid ours like a crime. You thought to raise 
 me, but you only sunk me lower. You were proud of our 
 love ; you published it abroad. Vainly I asked you in 
 mercy to leave me in obscurity, and unknown. Soon the 
 whole town knew that I was your mistress. Every one 
 was talking of the money you spent on me. How I blushed 
 at the flaunting luxury you thrust upon me ! You were 
 satisfied, because my beauty became celebrated ; 1 wept, 
 because my shame became so too. People talked about 
 me, as those women who make their lovers commit the 
 greatest follies. Was not my name in the papers ? And it 
 was through the same papers that I heard of your approach- 
 ing marriage. Unhappy woman ! I should have fled from 
 you, but I had not the courage. I resigned myself, without 
 an effort, to the most humiliating, the most shameful of posi- 
 tions. You were married ; and I remained your mistress. 
 Oh, what anguish I suffered during that terrible evening. 
 I was alone in my own home, in that room so associated 
 with you ; and you were marrying another ! I said to my- 
 self, ' At this moment, a pure, noble young girl is giving 
 herself to him.' I said again, ' What oaths is that mouth, 
 which has so often pressed my lips, now taking ? ' Often 
 
254 THK t.KKOCGE CASE. 
 
 since that dreadful misfortune, I have asked heaven what 
 crime I had committed that I should be so terribly pun- 
 ished ? This was the crime : I remained your mistress, 
 and your wife died. I only saw her once, and then 
 scarcely for a. minute, but she looked at you, and I knew 
 that she loved you as only I could. Ah, Guy, it was our 
 love that killed her ! " 
 
 She stopped exhausted, but none of the bystanders 
 moved. They listened breathlessly, and waited with fever- 
 ish emotion for her to resume. Mademoiselle d'Arlange 
 had not strength to remain standing ; she had fallen upon 
 her knees, and was pressing her handkerchief to her mouth 
 to keep back her sobs. Was not this woman Albert's 
 mother ? The worthy nun was alone unmoved ; she had 
 seen, she said to herself, many such deliriums before. She 
 understood absolutely nothing of what was passing. " These 
 people are very foolish," she muttered, "to pay so much 
 attention to the ramblings of a person out of her mind." She 
 thought she had more sense than the others, so, approach- 
 ing the bed, she began to cover up the sick woman. " Come, 
 maclame," said she t " cover yourself, or you will catch 
 cold." 
 
 " Sister ! " remonstrated the doctor and priest at the 
 same moment. 
 
 " For God's sake ! " exclaimed the soldier, " let her 
 speak." 
 
 " Who," continued the sick woman, unconscious of all 
 that was passing about her, " who told you I was deceiv- 
 ing you ? Oh, the wretches ! They set spies upon me ; 
 they discovered that an officer came frequently to see me. 
 But that officer was my brother, my dear Louis ! When 
 he was eighteen years old, and being unable to obtain 
 work, he enlisted, saying to my mother, that there would 
 then be one mouth the less in the family. He was a good 
 soldier, and his officers always liked him. He worked 
 whilst with his regiment ; he taught himself, and he quickly 
 rose in rank. He was promoted a lieutenant, then captain, 
 and finally became major. Louis always loved me ; had 
 he remained in Paris 1 should not have fallen. But our 
 mother died, and I was left all alone in this great city- 
 He was a non-commissioned officer when he first knew that 
 I had a lover ; and he was so enraged that I feared he 
 would never forgive me. But he did forgive me, saying that 
 
THE LEROL'GE CASE. 255 
 
 my constancy in my error was its only excuse. Ah, my friend, 
 he was more jealous of your honor than you yourself ! He 
 came to see me in secret, because I placed him in the un- 
 happy position of blushing for his sister. I had condemned 
 myself never to speak of him, never to mention his name. 
 Could a brave soldier confess that his sister was the mistress 
 of a count ? That it might not be known, I took the utmost 
 precautions, but aks ! only to make you doubt me. When 
 Louis knew what was said, he wished in his blind rage to 
 challenge you; and then I was obliged to make him think 
 that he had no right to defend me. What misery ! Ah, I 
 have paid dearly for my years of stolen happiness ! But 
 you are here, and all is forgotten. For you do believe me, 
 do you not, Guy ? I will write to Louis : he will come, he 
 will tell you that I do not lie, and you cannot doubt his, a 
 soldier's word." 
 
 " Yes, on my honour," said the old soldier, " what my 
 sister says is the truth." 
 
 The dying woman did not hear him ; she continued in 
 a voice panting from weariness : " How your presence 
 revives me. I feel that I am growing stronger. I have 
 nearly been very ill. I am afraid I am not very pretty to- 
 day : but never mind, kiss me ! " She opened her arms, 
 and thrust out her lips as if to kiss him. " But it is one 
 condition, Guy, that you will leave me my child ? Oh ! 
 I beg of you, I entreat you not to take him from me : leave 
 him to me. What is a mother without her child ? You 
 are anxious to give him an illustrious name, an immense for- 
 tune. No ! You tell me that this sacrifice will be for his 
 good. No ! My child is mine : I will keep him. The world 
 has no honours, no riches, which can replace a mother's 
 love. You wish to give me in exchange, that other woman's 
 child. Never ! What ! you would have that woman 
 embrace my boy ! It is impossible. Take away this 
 strange child from me ; he fills me with horror ; I want 
 my own ! Ah, do not insist, do not threaten me with 
 anger, do not leave me. I should give in, and then I 
 should die. Guy, forget this fatal project, the thought of 
 it alone is a crime. Cannot my prayers, my tears, can noth- 
 ing move you ? Ah, well, God will punish us. All will 
 be discovered. The day will come when these children 
 will demand a fearful reckoning. Guy, I foresee the 
 future ; I see my son coming towards me, justly an- 
 
256 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 gered. What does he say, great heaven ! Oh, those 
 letters, those letters, sweet memories of our love ! My 
 son, he threatens me ! Me strikes me ! Ah, help ! A 
 son strike his mother. Tell no one of it, though. O my 
 God, what torture ! Yet he knows well that I am his 
 mother. He pretends not to believe me. Lord, this is 
 too much ! Guy ! pardon ! oh, my only friend ! I have 
 neither the power to resist, nor the courage to obey you." 
 
 At this moment the door opening on to the landing 
 opened, and Noel appeared, pale as usual, but calm and 
 composed. The dying woman saw him, and the sight 
 affected her like an electric shock. A terrible shudder 
 shook her frame ; her eyes grew inordinately large , her 
 hair seemed to stand on end. She raised herself on her 
 pillows, stretched out her arm in the direction where Noel 
 stood, and in a loud voice exclaimed, " Assassin ! " 
 
 She fell back convulsively on the bed. Some one has- 
 tened forward : she was dead. A deep silence prevailed. 
 Such is the majesty of death, and the terror which accom 
 panics it, that, in its presence, even the strongest and most 
 sceptical bow their heads. For a time, passions and 
 interests are forgotten. Involuntarily we are drawn 
 together, when some mutual friend breathes his last in our 
 presence. All the bystanders were deeply moved by this 
 painful scene, this last confession, wrested so to say from 
 the delirium. And the last word uttered by Madame 
 Gerdy, " assassin," surprised no one. All, excepting the 
 nun, knew of the awful accusation which had been made 
 against Albert. To him they applied the unfortunate 
 mother's malediction. Noel seemed quite broken hearted. 
 Kneeling by the bedside of her who had been as a mother 
 to him, he took one of her hands, and pressed it close to 
 his lips. " Dead ! " he groaned, " she is dead." 
 
 The nun and the priest knelt beside him, and repeated 
 in a low voice the prayers for the dead. They implored 
 God to shed his peace and mercy on the departed soul. 
 They begged for a little happiness in heaven for her who 
 had suffeied so much on earth. Fallen into a chair, his 
 head thrown back, the Count de Commarin was more over- 
 whelmed and more livid than this dead woman, his old 
 love, once so beautiful. Claire and the doctor hastened to 
 assist him. They undid his cravat, and took off his shirt 
 collar, for he was suffocating. With the help of the old 
 
7777? LEKOUCE CASE. 257 
 
 soldier, whose red, tearful eyes, told of suppressed grief, 
 they moved the count's chair to the half-opened window to 
 give him a little air. Three days before this scene would 
 have killed him. But the heart hardens by misfortune, like 
 hands by labour. 
 
 " His tears have saved him," whispered the doctor to 
 Claire. 
 
 M. de Commarin gradually recovered, and, as his 
 thoughts became clearer, his sufferings returned. Prostra- 
 tion follows great mental shocks. Nature seems to col- 
 lect her strength to sustain the misfortune. We do not feel 
 all its intensity at once ; it is only afterwards that we. real- 
 ize the extent and profundity of the evil. The count's 
 gaze was fixed upon the bed where lay Valerie's body. 
 There, then, was all that remained of her. The soul, that 
 soul so devoted and so tender, had flown. What would he 
 not have given if God would have restored that unfortu- 
 nate woman to life for a day, or even for an hour ? With 
 what transports of repentance he would have cast himself 
 at her feet, to implore her pardon, to tell her how much he 
 detested his past conduct ! How had he acknowledged 
 .the inexhaustible love of that angel ? Upon a mere sus- 
 picion, without deigning to inquire, without giving her a 
 hearing, he had treated her with the coldest contempt. 
 Why had he not seen her again ? He would have spared 
 himself twenty years of doubt as to Albert's birth. In- 
 stead of an isolated existence, he would have led a happy, 
 joyous life. Then he remembered the countess's death. 
 She also had loved him, and had died of her love. He had 
 not understood them , he had killed them both. The hour 
 of expiation had come; and he could not say: "Lord, 
 the punishment is too great, and yet, what punishment, 
 what misfortunes, during the last five days ! 
 
 "Yes," he stammered, "she predicted it. Why did I 
 not listen to her ? " 
 
 Madame Gerdy's brother pitied the old man, so severely 
 tried. He held out his hand. " M. de Commarin," he 
 said, in a grave, sad voice, " my sister forgave you long 
 ago, even if she ever had any ill feeling against you. It 
 is my turn to-day ; I forgive you sincerely." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," murmured the count, " thank you." 
 And then he added : " What a death ! " 
 
 "Yes," murmured Claire, " she breathed her last in the 
 
258 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 idea that her son was guilty of a crime. And we were not 
 able to undeceive her." 
 
 " At least," cried the count, " her son should be free to 
 render her his last duties ; yes, he must be. Noel ! " 
 
 The barrister had approached his father, and heard 
 all. " I have promised, father," he replied, " to save 
 him." 
 
 For the first lime, Mademoiselle d'Arlange was face to 
 face with Noel. Their eyes met, and she could not re- 
 strain a movement of repugnance, which the barrister per- 
 ceived. "Albert is already saved," she said proudly. 
 " What we ask is, that prompt justice shall be done him ; 
 that he shall be immediately set at liberty. The magis- 
 trate now knows the truth." 
 
 " How the truth ? " exclaimed the barrister. 
 
 " Yes ; Albert passed at my house, with me, the evening 
 the crime was committed." . 
 
 Noel looked at her surprised ; so singular a confession 
 from such a mouth, without explanation, might well sur- 
 prise him. 
 
 She drew herself up haughtilyc " I am Mademoiselle 
 Claire d'Arlange, sir," said she. 
 
 M. de Commarin now quickly ran over all the incidents 
 reported by Claire. When he had finished, Noel replied : 
 " You see, sir, my position at this moment, to-mor- 
 row " 
 
 " To-morrow ? " interrupted the count, " you said, I 
 believe, to-morrow ! Honour demands, sir, that we act to- 
 day, at this moment. You can show your love for this 
 poor woman much better by delivering her son than by pray- 
 ing for her." 
 
 Noel bowed low, " To hear your wish, sir, is to obey it," 
 he said ; " I go. This evening, at your house, I shall have 
 the honour of giving you an account of my proceedings. 
 Perhaps I shall be able to bring Albert with me." 
 
 He spoke, and, again embracing the dead woman, went 
 out. Soon the -count and Mademoiselle d'Arlange also re- 
 tired. The old soldier went to the Mairie, to give notice 
 of the death, and to fulfil the necessary formalities. The 
 nun alone remained to watch the corpse. The daughter 
 of St. Vincent felt neither fear nor embarrassment \ she 
 had been so many times in a similar position. Her pray- 
 ers said, she arose and went about the room, arranging 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 2 y} 
 
 everything as it should be in the presence of death. She 
 removed all traces of the illness, put away the medicine 
 bottles, burnt some sugar upon the fire shovel, and, on a 
 table covered with a white cloth at the head of the bed, 
 placed some lighted candles, a crucifix with holy water, and 
 a branch of palm. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 GREATLY troubled and perplexed by Mademoiselle d'Ar 
 lange's revelations, M. Daburon was ascending the stairs 
 that led to the offices of the investigating magistrates, 
 when he saw old Tabaret coming towards him. The sight 
 pleased him, and he at once called out : " M. Tabaret! " 
 
 But the old fellow, who showed signs of the most intense 
 agitation, was scarcely, disposed to stop, or to lose a sin- 
 gle minute. '' You must excuse me, sir," he said, bowing, 
 " but I am expected at home." 
 
 " I hope, however " 
 
 " Oh, he is innocent," interrupted old Tabaret. " I 
 have already some proofs ; and before three days But 
 you are going to see Gevrol's man with the earrings. He 
 is very cunning, Gevrol : I misjudged him." 
 
 And without listening to another word, he hurried away, 
 jumping down three steps at a times, at the risk of break- 
 ing his neck. M. Daburon, greatly disappointed, also has- 
 tened on. In the passage, on a bench of rough wood be- 
 fore his office door, Albert sat awaiting him, under the 
 charge of a Garde de Paris. 
 
 " You will be summoned immediately, sir," said the mag- 
 istrate to the prisoner, as he opened his door. 
 ' In the office, Constant was talking with a skinny little 
 man, who might have been taken, from his dress, for a 
 well-to-do inhabitant of Batignolles, had it not been for the 
 enormous pin in imitation gold which shone in his cravat, 
 and betrayed the detective. 
 
 " You received my letters ? " asked M. Daburon of his 
 clerk. 
 
 " Your orders have been executed, sir : the prisoner is 
 without, and here is M. Martin, who this moment arrived 
 from the neighbourhood of the Invalides. 
 
 " That is well," said the magistrate in a satisfied tone. 
 
26o THE LEROUGE C 
 
 And, turning towards the detective, " Well, M. Martin," 
 he asked, " what did you see ? " 
 
 " The walls has been scaled, sir." 
 
 " Lately ? " 
 
 " Five or six days ago." 
 
 " You are sure of this ? " 
 
 " As sure as I am that I see M. Constant at this mo- 
 ment mending his pen." 
 
 " The marks are plain ? " 
 
 " As plain as the nose on my face, sir, if I may so ex- 
 press myself. The thief it was done by a thief, I imagine," 
 continued M. Martin, who was a great talker " the thief 
 entered the garden before the rain, and went away after it, 
 as you had conjectured. This circumstance is easy to es- 
 tablish by examining the marks on the wall of the ascent 
 and the descent on the side towards the street. These 
 marks are several abrasions, evidently made by feet of 
 some one climbing. The first are clean ; the others, mud- 
 dy. The scamp he was a nimble fellow in getting in, 
 pulled himself up by the strength of his wrists : but when 
 going away, he enjoyed the luxury of a ladder, which he 
 threw down as soon as he was on the top of the wall. It 
 is to see where he placed it, by holes made in the ground 
 by the fellow's weight ; and also by the mortar which has 
 been knocked away from the top of the wall." 
 
 " Is that all ? " asked the magistrate. 
 
 " Not yet, sir. Three of the pieces of glass which cover 
 the top of the wall have been removed. Several of the 
 acacia branches, which extend over the wall have been 
 twisted or broken. Adhering to the thorns of one of 
 these branches, I found this little piece of lavender kid, 
 which appears to me to belong to a glove." 
 
 The magistrate eagerly seized the piece of kid. It had* 
 evidently come from a glove. " You took care, I hope, 
 M. Martin," said M. Daburon, " not to attract attention 
 at the house where you made this investigation ? " 
 
 " Certainly, sir. I first of all examined the exterior of 
 the wall at my leisure. After that, leaving my hat at a 
 wine shop round the corner, I called at the Marchioness 
 d'Arlange's house, pretending to be the servant of a neigh- 
 bouring duchess, who was in despair at having lost a 
 favourif . and, if I may so speak, an eloquent parrot. I 
 was very kindly given permission to explore the garden; 
 
THE LEKOUGE CASE. 261 
 
 and, as I spoke as disrespectfully as possible of my pre- 
 tended mistress, they, no doubt, took me for a genuine 
 servant." 
 
 " You are an adroit and prompt fellow, M. Martin," 
 interrupted the magistrate. " I am well satisfied with 
 you ; and I will report you favourably at headquarters." 
 
 He rang his bell, while the detective, delighted at the 
 praise he had received, moved backwards to the door, bow- 
 ing the while. 
 
 Albert was then brought in. " Have you decided, sir," 
 asked the investigating magistrate without preamble, " to 
 give me a true account of how you spent last Tuesday 
 evening ? " 
 
 " I have already told you, sir." 
 
 " No, sir, you have not ; and I regret to say that you 
 lied to me." 
 
 Albert, at this apparent insult, turned red, and his eyes 
 flashed. 
 
 " I know all that you did on that evening," continued 
 the magistrate, " because justice, as I have already told 
 you, is ignorant of nothing that it is important for it to 
 know." Then, looking straight into Albert's eyes, he 
 continued slowly : " I have seen Mademoiselle Claire 
 d'Arlange." 
 
 On hearing that name, the prisoner's features, con- 
 tracted by a firm resolve not to give way, relaxed. It 
 seemed as though he experienced an immense sensation 
 of delight, like a man who escapes almost by a miracle 
 from an imminent danger which he had despaired of avoid- 
 ing. However, he made no reply. 
 
 " Mademoiselle d'Arlange," continued the magistrate, 
 " has told me where you were on Tuesday evening." 
 
 Albert still hesitated. 
 
 ' I am not setting a trap for you," added M. Daburon ; 
 " I give you my word of honour. She has told me all, 
 you understand ? " 
 
 This time Albert decided to speak. His explanations 
 corresponded exactly with Claire's ; not one detail more. 
 Henceforth, doubt was impossible. Mademoiselle d'Ar- 
 lange had not been imposed upon. Either Albert was in- 
 nocent, or she was his accomplice. Could she knowingly 
 be the accomplice of such an odious crime ? No ; she 
 could not even be suspected of it. But who then was the 
 
262 77//-; LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 assassin ? For, when a crime has been committed, jus- 
 tice demands a culprit. 
 
 " You see, sir," said the magistrate severely to Albert, 
 " you did deceive me. You risked your life, sir, and, 
 what is also very serious, you exposed me, you exposed 
 justice, to commit a most deplorable mistake. Why did 
 you not tell me the truth at once ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle d'Arlange, sir," replied Albert, " in ac- 
 cording me a meeting, trusted in my honour." 
 
 " And you would have died sooner than mention that 
 interview ? " interrupted M. Daburon with a touch of irony. 
 " That is all very fine, sir, and worthy of the days of 
 chivalry ! " 
 
 " I am not the hero that you suppose, sir," replied the 
 prisoner simply. " If I told you that I did not count on 
 Claire, I should be telling a falsehood. I was waiting 
 for her. I knew that, on learning of my arrest, she would 
 brave everything to save me. But her friends might have 
 hid it from her; and that was what I feared. In that 
 event, I do not think, so far as one can answer for one- 
 self, that I should have mentioned her name." 
 
 There was no appearance of bravado. What Albert 
 said, he thought and felt. M. Daburon regretted his irony. 
 " Sir," he said kindly, " you must return to your prison. 
 I cannot release you yet; but you will be no longer in 
 solitary confinement. You will be treated with every 
 attention due to a prisoner whose innocence appears prob- 
 able." Albert bowed, and thanked him ; and was then re- 
 moved. 
 
 " We are now ready for Gevrol," said the magistrate to 
 his clerk. 
 
 The chief of detectives was absent : he had been sent 
 for from the Prefecture of Police ; but his witness, the 
 man with the earrings, was waiting in the .passage. He 
 was told to enter. He was one of those short, thick-set 
 men, powerful as oaks, who can carry almost any weight 
 on their broad shoulders. His white hair and whiskers 
 set off his features, hardened and tanned by the inclem- 
 ency of the weather, the sea winds and the heat of the 
 tropics. He had large .callous black hands, with big 
 sinewy fingers which must have possessed the strength 
 of a vice. Great earrings in the form of anchors hung 
 from his ears. He was dressed in the costume of a well 
 
IJ-.KOL'GE CASE. 263 
 
 to-do Normandy fisherman out for a holiday. The clerk 
 was obliged to push him into the office, for this son 
 of the ocean was timid and abashad when on shore. 
 He advanced, balancing himself first on one leg, then 
 on the other, with that irregular walk of the sailor, who, 
 used to the rolling and tossing of the waves, is surprised 
 to find anything immovable beneath his feet. To give 
 himself confidence, he fumbled over his soft felt hat, 
 decorated with little lead medals, like the cap of king 
 Louis XI. of devout memory, and also adorned with some 
 of that worsted twist made by the young country girls, on 
 a primitive frame composed of four or five pins stuck in a 
 hollow cork. 
 
 M. Daburon examined him, and estimated him at a 
 glance. There was no doubt but that he was the sunburnt 
 man described by one of the witnesses at La Jonchere. 
 It was also impossible to doubt his honesty. His open 
 countenance displayed sincerity and good nature. 
 
 " Your name ? " demanded the investigating magistrate. 
 
 " Marie Pierre Lerouge." 
 
 ' Are you, then, related to Claudine Lerouge ? " 
 
 " I am her husband, sir." 
 
 What, the husband of the victim alive, and the police 
 ignorant of his existence ! Thus thought M. Daburon. 
 " Every one," said he, " believed her a widow. She herself 
 pretended to be one." 
 
 " Yes, for in that way she partly excused her conduct. 
 Besides, it was an arrangement between ourselves. I had 
 told her that I would have nothing more to do with her." 
 
 " Indeed ? Well, you know that she is dead, victim of 
 an odious crime ? " 
 
 " The detective who brought me here told me of it, sir," 
 replied the sailor, his face darkening. " She was a wretch ! " 
 he added in a hollow voice. 
 
 " How ? You, her husband, accuse her ? " 
 
 " I have but too good reason to do so, sir. .Ah, my dead 
 father, who foresaw it all at the time, warned me ! I 
 laughed, when he said, ' Take care, or she will dishonour 
 us all.' He was riglit. Through her, I have been hunted 
 down by the police, just like some skulking thief. Every- 
 where that they inquired after me with their warrant, 
 people must have said ' Ah, ha, he has then committed 
 some crime ! ' And here I am before a magistrate ! Ah, 
 
264 yy//i 1.1: ROUGE CASE. 
 
 sir, what a disgrace ! The Lerouges have been honest 
 people, from father to son, ever since the world began. 
 Inquire of all who have ever had dealings with me, they 
 will tell you, ' Lerouge's word is as good as another man's 
 writing.' Yes, she was a wicked woman ; and I have often 
 told her that she would come to a bad end." 
 
 " You told her that ? " 
 
 " More than a hundred times, sir." 
 
 " Why ? Come, my friend, do not be uneasy, your honour 
 is not at stake here, no one questions it. When did you 
 warn her so wisely ? " 
 
 " Ah, a long time ago, sir," replied the sailor, " the first 
 time was more than thirty years back. She had ambition 
 even in her blood ; she wished to mix herself up in the 
 intrigues of the great. It was that that ruined her. She 
 said thaf one got money for keeping secrets ; and I said 
 that one got disgraced and that was all. To help the great 
 to hide their villanies, and to expect happiness from it, is 
 like making your bed of thorns, in the hope of sleeping 
 well. But she had a will of her own." 
 
 " You were her husband, though," objected M. Daburon, 
 "you had the right to command her obedience." 
 
 The sailor shook his head, and heaved a deep sigh. 
 " Alas, sir ! it was I who obeyed." 
 
 To proceed by short inquiries with a witness, when you 
 have no idea of the information he brings, is but to lose 
 time in attempting to gain it. When you think you are 
 approaching the important fact, you may be just avoiding it. 
 It is much better to give the witness the rein, and to listen 
 carefully, putting him back on the track should he get too far 
 away. It is the surest and easiest method. This was the 
 course M. Dnburon adopted, all the time cursing Gevrol's 
 absence, as he by a single word could have shortened by 
 a good half the examination, the importance of which, by 
 the way, the magistrate did not even suspect. 
 
 " In what intrigues did your wife mingle ? " asked he. 
 " Go on, my friend, tell me everything exactly ; here, you 
 know, we must have not only the truth, but the whole 
 truth." 
 
 Lerouge placed his hat on a chair. Then he began 
 alternately to pull his fingers, making them crack almost 
 sufficiently to break them, and ultimately scratched his 
 head violently. It was his way of arranging his ideas, 
 
THE LEKOL'GE CASE. 265 
 
 " I must tell you,'' he began, " that it will be thirty-five 
 years on St. John's day since I fell in love with Claudine. 
 She was a pretty, neat, fascinating girl, with a voice sweeter 
 than honey. She was the most beautiful girl in our 
 part of the country, straight as a mast, supple as a willow, 
 graceful and strong as a racing boat. Her eyes sparkled 
 like old cider ; her hair was black, her teeth as white as 
 pearls, and her breath was as fresh as the sea breeze. 
 The misfortune was, that she hadn't a sou, while we were 
 in easy circumstances. Her mother, who was the widow 
 of I can't say how many husbands, was, saving your pres- 
 ence, a bad woman, and my father was the worthiest man 
 alive. When I spoke to the old fellow of marrying Clau- 
 dine he swore fiercely, and eight days after, he sent me to 
 Oporto on a schooner belonging to one of our neighbours, 
 just to give me a change of air. I came back, at the end 
 of six months, thinner than a thole, but more in love than 
 ever. Recollections of Claudine scorched me like a fire. 
 I could scarcely eat or drink ; but I felt that she loved me 
 a little in return, for I was a fine young fellow, and more 
 than one girl had set her cap at me. Then my father, 
 seeing that he could do nothing, that I was wasting away, 
 and was on the road to join my mother in the cemetery, 
 decided to let me complete my folly, So one evening, 
 after we had returned from fishing and I got up from supper 
 without tasting it, he said to me, ' Marry the hag's daughter, 
 and let's have no more of this.' I remember it distinctly, 
 because, when I heard the old fellow call my love such a 
 name, I flew into a great passion, and almost wanted to 
 kill him. Ah, one never gains anything by marrying in 
 opposition to one's parents ! " 
 
 The worthy fellow was lost in the midst of his recollec- 
 tions. He was very far from his story. The investigating 
 magistrate attempted to bring him back into the right path. 
 " Come to the point," he said. 
 
 " I am going to, sir ; but it was necessary to begin at the 
 beginning. I married. The evening after the wedding, 
 and when the relatives and guests had departed, I was about 
 to join my wife, when I perceived my father all alone in a 
 corner weeping. The sight touched my heart, and I had a 
 foreboding of evil ; but it quickly passed away. It is so 
 delightful during the first six months one passes with a 
 clearly loved wife ! One seems to be surrounded by mists 
 
266 THE LEKOL'GE CAS/-.. 
 
 that change the very rocks into palaces and temples so com- 
 pletely that novices are taken in. For two years, in spite 
 of a few little quarrels, everything went on nicely. Claudine 
 managed me like a child. Ah, she was cunning! She 
 might have seized and bound me, and carried me to market 
 and sold me, without my noticing it. Her great fault was 
 her love of finery. All that I earned, and my business 
 was very prosperous, she put on her back. Every week 
 there was something new, dresses, jewels, bonnets, the 
 devil's baubles, which the dealers invent for the perdition of 
 the female sex. The neighbors chattered, but I thought 
 it was all right. At the baptism of our son, who was called 
 Jacques after my father, to please her, I squandered all I 
 had economized during my youth, more than three hundred 
 pistoles, with which I had intended purchasing a meadow 
 that lay in the midst of our property." 
 
 M. Daburon was boiling over with impatience, but he 
 could do nothing. " Go on, go on," he said every time 
 Le rouge seemed inclined to stop. 
 
 " I was well enough pleased," continued the sailor, 
 " until one morning I saw one of the Count de Ccmmarin's 
 servants entering our house ; the count's chateau is only 
 about a mile from where I lived on the other side of the 
 town. It was a fellow named Germain whom I didn't like 
 at all. It was said about the country that he had been 
 mixed up in the seduction of poor Thomassine, a fine 
 young girl who lived near us ; she appears to have pleased 
 the count, and one day suddenly disappeared. I asked 
 my wife what the fellow wanted ; she replied that he had 
 come to ask her to take a child to nurse. I would not 
 hear of it at first, for our means were sufficient to allow 
 Claudine to keep all her milk for our own. child. But she 
 gave me the very best of reasons. She said she regretted 
 her past flirtations and her extravagance. She wished to 
 earn a little money, being ashamed of doing nothing while 
 I was killing myself with work. She wanted to save, to 
 economize, so that our child should not be obliged in his 
 turn to go to sea. She was to get a very good price, that 
 we could save up to go towards the three hundred pistoles. 
 That confounded meadow, to which she alluded, decided 
 me. " 
 
 " Did she not tell you of the commission with which sh 
 was charged ? " asked the magistrate. 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 267 
 
 This question astonished Lerouge. He thought that 
 there was good reason to say that justice sees and knows 
 everything. " Not then," he answered, " But you will see. 
 Eight days after, the postman brought a letter, asking her 
 to go to Paris to fetch the child. It arrived in the evening. 
 ' Very well,' said she, ' I will start to-morrow by the dili- 
 gence.' I didn't say a word then ; but next morning, when 
 she was about to take her seat in the diligence, I declared 
 that I was going with her. She didn't seem at all angry, 
 on the contrary. She kissed me, and I was delighted. At 
 Paris, she was to call for the little one at a Madame Gerdy's, 
 who lived on the Boulevard. We arranged that she 
 should go alone, while I awaited for her at our inn. After 
 she had gone, I grew uneasy. I went out soon after, and 
 prowled about near Madame Gerdy's house, making in- 
 quiries of the servants and others : I soon discovered that 
 she was the Count de Commarin's mistress. I felt so an- 
 noyed that, if I had been master, my wife should have 
 come away without the little bastard. I am only a poor 
 sailor, and I know that a man sometimes forgets himself. 
 One takes too much to drink, for instance, or goes out on 
 the loose with some friends ; but that a man with a wife 
 and children should live with another woman and give her 
 what really belongs to his legitimate offspring, I think is 
 bad very bad. Is it not so, sir?" 
 
 The investigating magistrate moved impatiently in his 
 chair. "Will this man never come to the point," he mut- 
 tered. " Yes, you are perfectly right," he added aloud ; 
 " but never mind your thoughts. Go on, go on ! " 
 
 " Claudine, sir, was more obstinate than a mule. After 
 three days of violent discussion, she obtained from me a 
 reluctant consent, between two kisses. Then she told me 
 that we were not going to return home by the diligence. 
 The lady, who feared the fatigue of the journey for her 
 child, had arranged that we should travel back by short 
 stages, in her carriage, and drawn by her horses. For 
 she was kept in grand style. I was ass enough to be de- 
 lighted, because it gave me a chance to see the country at 
 my leisure. We were, therefore, installed with the chil- 
 dren, mine and the other, in an elegant carriage, drawn by 
 magnificent animals, and driven by a coachman in livery. 
 My wife was mad with joy ; she kissed me over and over 
 again, and chinked handfuls of gold in my face. I felt as 
 
268 TJIK LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 foolish as an honest husband who finds money in his house 
 which he didn't earn himself. Seeing how 1 felt, Claudine, 
 hoping to pacify me, resolved to tell me the whole truth. 
 ' See here,' she said to me, " Lerouge stopped, and, 
 changing his tone, said, " You understand that it is my 
 wife who is speaking? " 
 
 "Yes, yes. Go on." 
 
 " She said to me, shaking her pocket full of money, 
 ' See here, my man, we shall always have as much of this 
 as ever we may want, and this is why : The count who 
 also had a legitimate child at the same time as this bas- 
 tard, wishes that this one shall bear his name instead of 
 the other; and this can be accomplished, thanks to me. 
 On the road, we shall meet at the inn, where we are to 
 sleep, M. Germain and the nurse to whom they have en- 
 trusted the legitimate son. We shall be put in the room, 
 and, during the night, I am to change the little ones, who 
 have been purposely dressed alike. For this the count 
 gives me eight thousand francs down, and a life annuity of 
 a thousand francs.' " 
 
 " And you ! " exclaimed the magistrate, " you, who call 
 yourself an honest man, permitted such villainy, when one 
 word would have been sufficient to prevent it ? " 
 
 " Sir, I beg of you," entreated Lerouge, "permit me to 
 finish." 
 
 " Well, continue ! " 
 
 " I could say nothing at first, I was so choked with rage. 
 I must have looked terrible. But she, who was generally 
 afraid of me when I was in a passion, burst out laughing, 
 and said, ' What a fool you are! Listen, before turning 
 sour like a bowl of milk. The count is the only one who 
 wants this change made ; and he is the one that's to pay 
 for it. His mistress, this little one's mother, doesn't want 
 it at all ; she merely pretended to consent, so as not to 
 quarrel with her lover, and because she has got a plan of 
 her own. She took me aside, during my visit in her room, 
 and, after having made me swear secrecy on a crucifix, she 
 told me that she couldn't bear the idea of separating her- 
 self from her babe forever, and of bringing up another's 
 child. She added that, if I would agree not to change the 
 children, and not to tell the count, she would give me ten 
 thousand francs down, and guarantee me an annuity equal 
 to the one the count had promised me. She declared, also, 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 269 
 
 that she could easily find out whether I kept my word, as 
 she had made a mark of recognition on her little one. 
 She didn't show me the mark ; and I have examined him 
 carefully, but can't find it. Do you understand now. I 
 merely take care of this little fellow here ; I tell the count 
 that I have changed the children ; we receive from both 
 sides, and Jacques will be rich. Now kiss your little wife 
 who has more sense than you, you old clear ! ' That, sir 
 is word for word what Claudine said to me." 
 
 The rough sailor drew from his pocket a large blue- 
 checked handkerchief, and blew his nose so violently that 
 the windows shook. It was his way of weeping. M. Da- 
 buron was confounded. Since the beginning of this sad 
 affair, he had encountered surprise after surprise. Scarcely 
 had he got his ideas in order on one point, when all his 
 attention was directed to another. 
 
 He felt himself utterly routed. What was he about to 
 learn now ? He longed to interrogate quickly, but he saw 
 that Lerouge told his story with difficulty, laboriously dis- 
 entangling his recollections ; he was guided by a single 
 thread which the least interruption might seriously entan- 
 gle. 
 
 " What Claudine proposed to me," continued the sailor, 
 " was villainous ; and I am an honest man. But she 
 kneaded me to her will as easily as a baker kneads dough. 
 She turned my heart topsy-turvy : she made me see white 
 as snow that which was really as black as ink. How I 
 loved her ! She proved to me that we were wronging no 
 one, that we were making little Jacques's fortune, and I 
 was silenced. At evening we arrived at some village ; and 
 the coachman, stopping the carriage before an inn, told us 
 we were to sleep there. We entered, and who do you 
 think we saw ? That scamp, Germain, with a nurse carry- 
 ing a child dressed so exactly like the one we had that I 
 was startled. They had journeyed there, like ourselves, 
 in one of the count's carriages. A suspicion crossed my 
 mind. How could I be sure that Claudine had not in- 
 vented the second story to pacify me ? She was certainly 
 capable of it. I was enraged. I had consented to the 
 one wickedness, but not to the other. I resolved not to 
 lose sight of the little bastard, swearing that they shouldn't 
 change it ; so I kept him all the evening on my knees, and 
 to be all the more sure, I tied my handkerchief about his 
 
270 'l 'HE L EA'Of ~C1: < 'AS /-. . 
 
 waist. Ah ! the plan had been well laid. After supper, 
 some one spoke of retiring, and then it turned out that 
 there were only two double-bedded rooms in the house. It 
 seemed as though it had been built expressly for the 
 scheme. The innkeeper said that the two nurses might 
 sleep in one room, and Germain and myself in the other. 
 Do you understand, sir ? Add to this, that during the 
 evening I had surprised looks of intelligence passing be- 
 tween my wife and that rascally servant, and you can 
 imagine how furious I was. It was conscience that spoke ; 
 and I was trying to silence it. I knew very well that I was 
 doing wrong ; and I almost wished myself dead. Why is 
 it that women can turn an honest man's conscience about 
 like a weather-cock with their wheedling? " 
 
 M. Daburon's only reply was a heavy blow of his fist on 
 the table. 
 
 Lerouge proceeded more quickly. " As for me, I upset 
 that arrangement, pretending to be too jealous to leave 
 my wife a minute. They were obliged to give way to me. 
 The other nurse went up to bed first. Claudine and I 
 followed soon afterwards. My wife undressed and got in- 
 to bed with our son and the little bastard. I did not un- 
 dress. Under the pretext that I should be in the way 
 of the children, I installed myself in a chair near the bed, 
 determined not to shut my eyes, and to keep close watch. 
 I put out the candle, in order to let the women sleep, 
 though I could not think of doing so myself ; and I thought 
 of my father, and of what he would say, if he ever heard 
 of my behaviour. Towards midnight, I heard Claudine 
 moving. I held my breath. She was getting out of bed. 
 Was she going to change the children ! Now, I know 
 that she was not ; then, I felt sure that she was. I was 
 beside myself, and seizing her by the arm, I commenced 
 to beat her roughly, giving free vent to all that I had on 
 my heart. I spoke in a loud voice, the same as- when 1 
 am on board ship in a storrn ; I swore like a fiend , I raised 
 a frightful disturbance. The other nurse cried out as 
 though she were being murdered. At this uproar, Ger- 
 main rushed in with a lighted candle. The sight of him 
 finished me. Not knowing what I was doing, I drew from 
 my pocket a long Spanish knife, which I always carried, 
 and seizing the cursed bastard, I thrust the blade through 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 271 
 
 his arm, crying, ' This way, at least, he can't be changed 
 without my knowing it ; he is marked for life ! ' ' 
 
 Lerouge could scarcely utter another word. Great 
 drops of sweat stood out upon his brow, then, trickling 
 down his cheeks, lodged in the deep wrinkles of his face. 
 He panted ; but the magistrate's stern glance harassed 
 him, and urged him on, like the whip which flogs the negro 
 slave overcome with fatigue. 
 
 " The little fellow's wound," he resumed, " was terrible. 
 It bled dreadfully, and he might have died: but I didn't 
 think of that. I was only troubled about the future, about 
 what might happen afterwards. I declared that I would 
 write oat all that had occurred, and that everyone should 
 sign it. This was done ; we could all four write. Ger- 
 main didn't dare resist; for I spoke with knife in hand. 
 He wrote his name first, begging me to say nothing about 
 it to the count, swearing that, for his part, he would never 
 breathe a word of it, and pledging the other nurse to a 
 like secrecy." 
 
 " And have you kept this paper ? " asked M. Daburon. 
 
 " Yes, sir, and as the detective to whom I confessed all, 
 advised me to bring it with me, I went to take it from the 
 place where I always kept it , and I have it here." 
 
 " Give it to me." 
 
 Lerouge took from his coat pocket an old parchment 
 pocket-book, fastened with a leather thong, and withdrew 
 from it a paper yellow by age and carefully sealed. 
 " Here it is," said he. " The paper hasn't been opened 
 since that accursed night." 
 
 And, in fact, when the magistrate unfolded it, some dust 
 fell out, which had been used to keep the writing, when 
 wet, from blotting. It was really a brief description of the 
 scene, described by the old sailor. The four signatures 
 were there. " What has become of the witnesses who 
 signed this declaration ? " murmured the magistrate, speak- 
 ing to himself. 
 
 Lerouge, who thought the question was put to him, re- 
 plied, " Germain is dead. I have been told that he was 
 drowned when out rowing. Claudine has just been assas- 
 binated : but the other nurse still lives. I even know that 
 she spoke of the affair to her husband, for he hinted as 
 much to me. His name is Brossette, and he lives in the 
 village of Commarin itself." 
 
272 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 " And what next ? " asked the magistrate, after having 
 taking down the name and address. 
 
 " The next day, sir, Claudine managed to pacify me, and 
 extorted a promise of secrecy. The child was scarcely ill 
 at all ; but he retained an enormous scar on his arm." 
 
 "Was Madame Gerdy informed of what took place ? " 
 
 " I do not think so, sir. But I would rather say w that I 
 do not know." 
 
 " What ! you do not know ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I swear it. You see my ignorance comes 
 from what happened afterwards." 
 
 " What happened, then ? " 
 
 The sailor hesitated. " That, sir, concerns only myself, 
 and" 
 
 "My friend," interrupted the magistrate, "you are an 
 honest man, I believe ; in fact, I am sure of it. But once 
 in your life, influenced by a wicked woman, you did wrong, 
 you became an accomplice in a very guilty action. Re- 
 pair that error by speaking truly now. All that is said 
 here, and which is not directly connected with the crime, 
 will remain secret ; even I will forget it immediately. 
 Fear nothing, therefore ; and, if you experience some 
 humilation, think that it is your punishment for the past." 
 
 " Alas, sir," answered the sailor, " I have been already 
 greatly punished ; and it is a long time since my troubles 
 began. Money, wickedly acquired, brings no good. On 
 arriving home, I bought the wretched meadow for much 
 more than it was worth ; and the day I walked over it, 
 feeling that is was actually mine, closed my happiness. 
 Claudine was a coquette ; but she had a great many other 
 vices. When she realised how much money we had these 
 vices showed themselves, just like a fire, smouldering at 
 the bottom of the hold, bursts forth when you open the 
 hatches. From slightly greedy as she had been, she be- 
 came a regular glutton. In our house there was feasting 
 without end. Whenever I went to sea, she would enter- 
 tain the worst women in the place ; and there was nothing 
 too good or too expensive for them. She would get so 
 drunk that she would have to be put to bed. Well, one 
 night, when she thought me at Rouen, I returned unex- 
 pectedly. I entered, and found her with a 'man. And 
 such a man, sir ! A miserable looking wretch, ugly, dirty, 
 stinking ; shunned by everyone ; in a word the bailiff's 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 273 
 
 clerk. I should have killed him, like the vermin that he 
 was ; it was my right, but he was such a pitiful object. I 
 took him by the neck and pitched him out of the window, 
 without opening it. It didn't kill him. Then I fell upon 
 my wife, and beat her until she couldn't stir.-" 
 
 Lerouge spoke in a hoarse voice, every now and then 
 thrusting his fists into his eyes. 
 
 li I pardoned her," he continued ; " but the man who 
 beats nis wife and then pardons her is lost. In the future, 
 she took better precautions, became a greater hypocrite, 
 and that was all. In the meanwhile, Madame Gerdy took 
 back her child ; and Claudine had nothing more to re- 
 strain her. Protected and counselled by her mother, 
 whom she had taken to live with us, on the pretence of 
 looking after Jacques, she managed to deceive me for 
 more than a year. I thought she had given up her bad 
 habits, but not at all ; she lived a most disgraceful life. 
 My house became the resort of all the good-for-nothing 
 rogues in the country, for whom my wife brought out bot- 
 tles of wine and brandy, whenever I was away at sea, and 
 they got drunk promiscuously. When money failed, she 
 wrote to the count or his mistress, and the orgies continued. 
 Occasionally I had doubts which disturbed me ; and then 
 without reason, for a simple yes or no, I would beat her 
 until I was tired, and then I would forgive her, like a cow- 
 ard, like a fool. It was a cursed life. I don't know 
 which gave me the most pleasure, embracing her or beat- 
 ing her. My neighbors despised me, and turned their backs 
 on me ; they believed me an accomplice or a willing dupe. 
 I heard, afterwards, that they believed I profited by my 
 wife's misconduct ; while in reality she paid her lovers. 
 At all events, people wondered where all the money came 
 from that was spent in my house. To distinguish me from 
 a cousin of mine, also named Lerouge, they tacked an in- 
 famous word on to my name. What disgrace ! And I 
 knew nothing of all the scandal, no, nothing. Was I not 
 the husband ? Fortunately, though, my poor lather was 
 dead." 
 
 M. Daburon pitied the speaker sincerely. " Rest a 
 while, my friend," he said ; "compose yourself." 
 
 " No," replied the sailor, " I would rather get through 
 with it quickly. One man, the priest, had the charity to 
 tell me of it. If ever he should want Leroiige ! Without 
 7? 
 
274 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 losing a minute, I went and saw a lawyer, and asked him 
 how an honest sailor who had had the misfortune to marry 
 a hussy ought to act. He said that nothing could be done. 
 To go to law was simply to publish abroad one's own dis- 
 honour, while a separation would accomplish nothing. 
 When once a man has given his name to a woman, he told 
 me, he cannot take it back ; it belongs to her for the rest 
 of her days, and she has a right to dispose of it. She may 
 sully it, cover it with mire, drag it from wine shop to wine 
 shop, and her husband can do nothing. That being the 
 case, mv course was soon taken. That same day, I sold 
 the fate 1 meadow, and send the proceeds of it to Claudine, 
 wishing to keep nothing of the price of shame. I then 
 had a document drawn up, authorising her to administer 
 our property, but not allowing her either to sell or mort- 
 gage it. Then I wrote her a letter in which I told her that 
 she need never expect to hear of me again, that I was 
 nothing more to her, and that she might look upon herself 
 as a widow. That same night I went away with my son." 
 
 " And what became of your wife after your departure ? " 
 
 " I cannot say, sir ; I only know that she quitted the 
 neighbourhood a year after I did." 
 
 " You have never lived with her since ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " But you were at her house three days before the crime 
 was commited." 
 
 " That is true, but it was absolutely necessary. I had 
 had much trouble to find her, no one knew what had be- 
 come of her. Fortunately my notary was able to procure 
 Madame Gerdy's address ; he wrote to her, and that is 
 how I learnt that Claudine was living at La Jonchere. I 
 was then at Rome. Captain Gervais, who is a friend of 
 mine, offered to take me to Paris on his boat, and I ac- 
 cepted. Ah, sir, what a shock I experienced when I entered 
 her house ! My wife did not know me ! By constantly tell- 
 ing everyone that I was dead, she had without a doubt 
 ended by believing it herself. When I told her my name, 
 she fell back in her chair. The wretched woman had not 
 changed in the least ; she had by her side a glass and a 
 bottle of brandy " 
 
 " All this doesn't explain why you went to seek your wife." 
 
 " It was on Jacques's account, sir, that I went. The 
 youngster has grown to be a man ; and he wants to marry, 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 275 
 
 For that, his mother's consent was necessary , and I was 
 taking to Claudine a document which the notary had drawn 
 up, and which she signed. This is it." 
 
 M. Daburon took the paper, and appeared to read it at- 
 tentively. After a moment he asked : " Have you thought 
 who could have assassinated your wife ? " 
 
 Lerouge made no reply. 
 
 " Do you suspect any one ? " persisted the magistrate. 
 
 " Well, sir," replied the sailor, " what can I say ? I 
 thought that Claudine had wearied out the people from 
 whom she drew money, like water from a well ; or else 
 getting drunk one day, she had blabbed too freely." 
 
 The testimony being as complete as possible, M. Dabu- 
 ron dismissed Lerouge, at the same time telling him to 
 wait for Gevrol, who would take him to a hotel, where 
 he might wait, at the disposal of justice, until further or- 
 ders. " All your expenses will be paid you," added the 
 magistrate. 
 
 Lerouge had scarcely left, when an extraordinary, un- 
 heard of, unprecedented event took place in the magistrate's 
 office. Constant, the serious, impressive, immovable, deaf 
 and dumb Constant, rose from his seat and spoke. He 
 broke a silence of fifteen years. He forgot himself so far 
 as to offer an opinion. " This, sir," said he, " is a most ex- 
 traordinary affair." Very extraordinary, truly, thought M. 
 Daburon, and calculated to rout all predictions, all pre- 
 conceived opinions. Why had he, the magistrate, moved 
 with such deplorable haste ? Why before risking anything, 
 had he not waited to possess all the elements of this im- 
 portant case, to hold all the threads of this complicated 
 drama ? Justice is accused of slowness ; but it is this very 
 slowness that constitutes its strength and surety, its almost 
 infallibility. One scarcely knows what a time evidence 
 takes to produce itself. There is no knowing what impor- 
 tant testimony investigations apparently useless may reveal. 
 When the entanglement of the various passions and motives 
 seems hopeless, an unknown personage presents himself, 
 coming from no one knows where, and it is he who explains 
 everything. 
 
 M. Daburon, usually the most prudent of men, had con- 
 sidered as simple one of the most complex of cases. He had 
 acted in a mysterious crime, which demanded the utmost 
 caution, as carelessly as though it were a case of simple 
 
276 THE LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 misdemeanour. Why? Because his memory had not left 
 him his free deliberation, judgment, and discernment. He 
 had feared equally appearing weak and being revengeful. 
 Thinking himself sure of his facts, he had been carried 
 away by his animosity. And yet how often had he not 
 asked himself : Where is duty ? But then, when one is 
 at all doubtful about duty, one is on the wrong road. The 
 singular part of it all was that the magistrate's faults sprang 
 from his very honesty. He had been led astray by a too 
 great refinement of conscience. The scruples which 
 troubled him had filled his mind with phantoms, and had 
 prompted in him the passionate animosity he had displayed 
 at a certain moment. Calmer now, he examined the case 
 more soundly. As a whole, thank heaven ! there was noth- 
 ing done which could not be repaired. He accused him- 
 self, however, none the less harshly. Chance alone had 
 stopped him. At that moment he resolved that he would 
 never undertake another investigation. His profession 
 henceforth inspired him with an unconquerable loathing. 
 Then his interview with Claire had re-opened all the old 
 wounds in his heart, and they bled more painfully than ever. 
 He felt, in despair, that his life was broken, mined. A man 
 may well feel so, when all women are as nc thing to him ex- 
 cept one, whom he may never dare hope to possess. Too 
 pious a man to think of suicide, he asked himself with an- 
 guish what would become of him when h^ threw aside his 
 magistrate's robes. 
 
 Then he turned again to the business in hand- In any 
 case, innocent or guilty, Albert was realty the Viscount de 
 Commarin, the count's legitimate son. But was he guilty ? 
 Evidently he was not. " I think," exclaimed M. Daburon 
 suddenly, " I must speak to the Count de Commarin. Con- 
 stant, send to his house a message for him to come here at 
 once ; if he is not at home, he must be sought for." 
 
 M. Daburon felt that an unpleasant duty was before him. 
 He would be obliged to say to the old nobleman : " Sir, 
 your legitimate son is not Noel, but Albert." What a posi- 
 tion, not only painful, but bordering on the ridiculous ! As 
 a compensation, though, he could tell him that Albert was 
 innocent. To Noel he would also have to tell the truth : 
 hurl him to earth, after having raised him among the clouds. 
 What a blow it would be ! But, without a doubt, the count 
 would make him some compensation ; at least, he ought to. 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 277 
 
 <: Now," murmured the magistrate, " who can be the 
 criminal ? " 
 
 An idea crossed his mind, at first it seemed to him absurd. 
 He rejected it, then thought of it again. He examined it 
 in all its various aspects. He had almost adopted it, when 
 M. de Commarin entered. M. Daburon's messenger had 
 arrived just as the count was alighting from his carriage, 
 on returning with Claire from Madame Gerdy's. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 OLD TABARET talked, but he acted also. Abandoned by 
 the investigating magistrate to his own resources, he set to 
 work without losing a minute and without taking a moment's 
 rest. The story of the cabriolet, drawn by a swift horse, 
 was exact in every particular. Lavish with his money, the 
 old fellow had gathered together a dozen detectives on 
 leave or rogues out of work ; and at the head of these 
 worthy assistants, seconded by his friend Lecoq, he had 
 gone to Bougival. He had actually searched the country, 
 house by house, with the obstinacy and the patience of a 
 maniac hunting for a needle in a hay-stack. His efforts 
 were not absolutely wasted. 
 
 After three days' investigation, he felt comparatively cer- 
 tain that the assassin had not left the train at Rueil, as all 
 the people of Eougival, La Jonchere, and Marly do, but 
 had gone on as far as Chatou. Tabaret thought he recog- 
 nized him in a man described to him by the porters at that 
 station as rather young, dark, and with black whiskers, 
 carrying an overcoat and an umbrella. This person, who 
 arrived by the train which left Paris for St. Germain at 
 thirty-five minutes past eight in the evening, had appeared 
 to be in a very great hurry. On quitting the station, he 
 had started off at a rapid pace on the road which led to 
 Bougival. Upon the way, two men from Marly and a 
 woman from La Malmaison had noticed him on account of 
 his rapid pace. He smoked as he hurried along. On 
 crossing the bridge which joins the two banks of the Seine 
 at Bougival, he had been still more noticed. It is usual 
 to pay a toll on crossing this bridge ; and the supposed 
 assassin had apparently forgotten this circumstance. He 
 passed without paying, keeping up his rapid pace, pressing 
 
278 7 '///: l.l-.KOUCE CASK. 
 
 his elbows to his side, husbanding his breath, and the 
 gatekeeper was obliged to run after him for his toll. He 
 seemed greatly annoyed at the circumstance, threw the 
 man a ten sou piece, and hurried on, without waiting for 
 the nine sous change. Nor was that all. The station 
 master at Rueil remembered, that, two minutes before the 
 quarter past ten train came up, a passenger arrived very 
 agitated, and so out of breath that he could scarcely ask 
 for a second class ticket for Paris. The appearance of 
 this man corresponded exactly with the description given of 
 him by the porters at Chatou, and by the gatekeeper at the 
 bridge. Finally, the old man thoo.ig.ht he was on the track 
 of some one who entered the same carriage as the breath- 
 less passenger. He had been told of a baker living at 
 Asnieres, and he had written to him, asking him to call at 
 his house. 
 
 Such was old Tabaret's information, when on the Mon- 
 day morning he called at the Palais de Justice, in order to 
 find out if the record of Widow Lerouge's past life had 
 been received. He found that nothing had arrived, but 
 in the passage he met Gevrol and his man. The chief of 
 detectives was triumphant, and showed it too. As soon as 
 he saw Tabaret, he called out; " Well, my illustrious 
 mare's-nest hunter, what news ? Have you had any more 
 scoundrels guillotined since the other day ? Ah, you old 
 rogue, you want to oust me from my place I can see ! " 
 
 The old man was sadly changed. The consciousness of 
 his mistake made him humble and meek. These pleasan- 
 tries, which a few days before would have made him angry, 
 now did not touch him. Instead of retaliating, he bowed 
 his head in such a penitent manner that Gevrol was aston- 
 ished. " Jeer at me, my good M. Gevrol," he replied, 
 " mock me without pity ; you are right, I deserve it all." 
 
 " Ah, come now," said the chief, " have you then per- 
 formed some new masterpiece, you impetuous old fellow ? " 
 
 Old Tabaret shook his head sadly. " I have delivered 
 up an innocent man," he said, " and justice will not re- 
 store him his freedom." 
 
 Gevrol was delighted, and rubbed his hands until he 
 almost wore away the skin. " This is fine," he sang out, 
 " this is capital. To bring criminals to justice is of no 
 account at all. But to free the innocent, by Jove ! that is 
 the last touch of art. Tirauclair, you are an immense 
 
THE LRROUGE CASE. 279 
 
 wonder ; and I bow before you." And at the same time, 
 he raised his hat ironically. 
 
 "Don't crush me," replied the old fellow. "As you 
 know, in spite of my grey hairs, I am young in the profes- 
 sion. Because chance served me three or four times, I 
 became foolishly proud. I have learned too late that I 
 am not all that I had thought myself ; I am but an ap- 
 prentice, and success has turned my head ; while you, M. 
 Gevrol, you are the master of all of us. Instead of laugh- 
 ing, pray help me, aid me with your advice and your 
 experience. Alone, I can do nothing, while with your 
 assistance ! " 
 
 Gevrol is vain in the highest degree. Tabaret's sub- 
 mission tickled his pretensions as a detective immensely ; 
 for in reality he thought the old man very clever. He 
 was softened. " I suppose," he said patronisingly, " you 
 refer to the La Jonchere affair ? " 
 
 " Alas ! yes, my dear M. Gevrol, I wished to work without 
 you, and I have got myself into a pretty mess." 
 
 Cunning old Tabaret kept his countenance as penitent 
 as that of a sacristan caught eating meat on a Friday ; but 
 he was inwardly laughing and rejoicing all the while. 
 " Conceited fool ! " he thought, " I will flatter you so 
 much that you will end by doing everything I want." 
 
 M. Gevrol rubbed his nose, put out his lower lip, and 
 said, " Ah, hem ! " He pretended to hesitate ; but it 
 was only because he enjoyed prolonging the old amateur's 
 discomfiture. " Come," said he at last, " cheer up, old 
 Tirauclair. I'm a good fellow at heart, and I'll give you a 
 lift. That's kind, isn't it? But, to-day, I'm too busy, I've 
 an appointment to keep. Come to me to-morrow morning, 
 and we'll talk it over. But before we part I'll give you a 
 light to find your way with. Do you know who that wit- 
 ness is that I've brought?" 
 
 " No ; but tell me, my good M. Gevrol." 
 
 " Well, that fellow on the bench there, who is waiting 
 for M. Daburon, is the husband of the victim of the La 
 Jonchere tragedy ! " 
 
 l - Is it possible ? " exclaimed old Tabaret, perfectly 
 astounded. Then, after reflecting a moment, he added : 
 " You are joking with me." 
 
 " No, upon my word. Go and ask him his name ; he 
 will tell you that it is Pierre Lerouge." 
 
2 So THE LEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 " She wasn't a widow then ? " 
 
 "It appears not," replied Gevrol sarcastically, "since 
 there is her happy spouse." 
 
 "Whew!" muttered the old fellow. "And docs he 
 know anything ? " 
 
 In a few sentences, the chief of detectives related to 
 his amateur colleague the story that Lerouge was about to 
 tell the investigating magistrate. " What do you say to 
 that ? " he asked when he came to the end. 
 
 " What do I say to that ? " stammered old Tabaret, 
 whose countenance indicated intense astonishment , 
 " what do I say to that ? I don't say anything. But I 
 think, no, I don't think anything either ! " 
 
 " A slight surprise, eh ? " said Gevrol, beaming. 
 
 " Say rather an immense one," replied Tabaret. 
 
 But suddenly he started, and gave his forehead a hard 
 blow with his fist. " And my baker ! " he cried, " I will 
 see you to-morrow, then, M. Gevrol." 
 
 " He is crazed," thought the head detective. 
 
 The old fellow was sane enough, but he had suddenly 
 recollected the Asnieres baker, whom he had asked to 
 call at his house. Would he still find him there ? Going 
 down stairs he met M. Daburon ; but, as one has already 
 seen, he hardly deigned to reply to hin. He was soon 
 outside, and trotted off along the quays. " Now," said 
 he to himself, " let us consider. Noel is once more plain 
 Noel Gerdy. He won't feel very pleased, for he thought 
 so much of having a great name. Pshaw ! if he likes, I'll 
 adopt him. Tabaret doesn't sound so well as Commarin, 
 but it's at least a name. Anyhow, Gevrol's story in no 
 way affects Albert's situation nor my convictions. He is 
 the legitimate son ; so much the better for him ! That 
 however, would not prove his innocence to me, if I 
 doubted it. He evidently knew nothing of these surpris- 
 ing circumstances, any more than his father. He must 
 have believed as well as the count in the substitution 
 having taken place. Madame Gerdy, too, must have 
 been ignorant of these facts ; they probably invented 
 some story to explain the scar. Yes, but Madame Gerdy 
 certainly knew that Noel was really her son, for when he 
 was returned to her, she no doubt looked for the mark 
 she had made on him. Then, when Noel discovered the 
 
THE LEKOUGK CASE. 281 
 
 count's letters, she must have hastened to explain to 
 him" 
 
 Old Tabaret stopped as suddenly as if further progress 
 were obstructed by some dangerous reptile. He was 
 terrified at the conclusion he had reached. " Noel, then, 
 must have assassinated Widow Lerouge, to prevent her 
 confessing that the substitution had never taken place, 
 and have burnt the letters and papers which proved it ! " 
 
 But he repelled this supposition with horror, as every 
 honest man drives away a detestable thought which by 
 accident enters his mind. " What an old idiot I am ! " 
 he exclaimed, resuming his walk ; " this is the result of 
 the horrible profession I once gloried in following ! Sus- 
 pect Noel, my boy, my sole heir, the personification of 
 virtue and honor ! Noel, whom ten years of constant 
 intercourse have taught me to esteem and admire to such 
 a de'gree that I would speak for him as I would for my- 
 self ! Men of his class must indeed be moved by terrible 
 passions to cause them to shed blood ; and I have always 
 known Noel to have but two passions, his mother and 
 his profession. And I dare even to breath a suspicion 
 against this noble soul? I ought "to be whipped! Old 
 fool ! isn't the lesson you have already received sufficient- 
 ly terrible ? Will you never be more cautious ? " 
 
 Thus he reasoned, trying to dismiss his disquieting 
 thoughts, and restraining his habits of investigation ; 
 but in his heart a tormenting voice constantly whispered, 
 " Suppose it is Noel." He at length reached the Rue 
 St. Lazare. Before the door of his house stood a mag- 
 nificent horse harnessed to an elegant blue brougham. 
 At the sight of these he stopped. " A handsome animal ! " 
 he said to himself ; " my tenants receive some swell 
 people." 
 
 They apparently received visitors of an opposite class 
 also, for, at that moment, he saw M. Clergeot came out, 
 worthy M. Clergeot, whose presence in a house betrayed 
 ruin just as surely as the presence of the undertakers 
 announce a death. The old detective, who knew every- 
 body, was well acquainted with the worthy banker. He 
 had even done business with him once, when collecting 
 books. He stopped him and said : " Halloa ! you old 
 crocodile, you have clients, then, in my house ? " 
 
2S2 77JE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 " So it seems," replied Clergeot drily, for he does not 
 like being treated with such familiarity. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! " said old Tabaret. And, prompted by 
 the very natural curiosity of a landlord who is bound to 
 be very careful about the financial condition of his 
 tenants, he added ; " Who the deuce are you ruining 
 now?" 
 
 " I am ruining no one," replied M. Clergeot, with an 
 afr of offended dignity. " Have you ever had reason to com- 
 plain of me whenever we have done business together ? I 
 think rfot. Mention me to the young barrister up there, 
 if you like ; he will tell you whether he has reason to 
 regret knowing me." 
 
 These words produced a painful impression on Tabaret. 
 What, Noel, the prudent Noel, one of Clergeot's cus- 
 tomers ! What did it mean ? Perhaps there was no 
 harm in it ; but then he remembered the fifteen thousand 
 francs he had lent Noel on the Thursday. "Yes," said 
 he, wishing to obtain some more information, " I know 
 tbat M. Gerdy spends a pretty round sum." 
 
 Clergeot has the delicacy never to leave his clients 
 undefended when attacked. " It isn't he personally," he 
 objected, " who makes the money dance ; its that charm- 
 ing little woman of his. Ah, she's no bigger than 
 your thumb, but she'd eat the devil, hoofs, horns, ar.d 
 all ! " 
 
 What ! Noel had a mistress, a woman whom Clergeot 
 himself, the friend of such creatures, considered expen- 
 sive ! The revelation, at such a moment, pierced the 
 old man's heart. But he dissembled. A gesture, a look, 
 might awaken the usurer's mistrust, and close his mouth. 
 " That's well known," replied Tabaret in a careless tone. 
 " Youth must have it's day. But what do you suppose 
 the wench costs him a year ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know ! He made the mistake of not 
 fixing a price with her. Accordingly to my calculation, 
 she must have, during the four years that she has been 
 under his protection, cost him close upon five hundred 
 thousand francs." 
 
 Four years! Five hundred thousand ' francs ! These 
 words, these figures, burst like bombshells on old 
 Tabaret's brain. Half a million ! In that case, Noel 
 was utterly ruined. But then " It is a great deal," 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 283 
 
 said he, succeeding by desperate efforts in hiding his 
 emotion ; " it is enormous. M. Gerdy, however, has 
 resources." 
 
 " He ! " interrupted the usurer, shrugging his shoulders. 
 " Not even that ! " he added, snapping his ringers ; 
 " He is utterly cleared out. But, if he owes you money, 
 do not be anxious. He is a sly dog. He is going to be 
 married ; and I have just renewed bills of his for twenty- 
 six thousand francs. Good-bye, M. Tabaret." 
 
 The usurer hurried away, leaving the poor old fellow 
 standing like a milestone in the middle of the pavement. 
 He experienced something of that terrible grief which 
 breaks a father's heart, when he begins to realize that 
 his dearly loved son is perhaps the worst of scoundrels. 
 And, yet, such was his confidence in Noel that he again 
 struggled with his reason to resist the suspicions which 
 tormented him. Perhaps the usurer had been slandering 
 his friend. People who lend their money at more than 
 ten per cent are capable of anything. Evidently he had 
 exaggerated the extent of Noel's follies. And, supposing 
 it were true ? Have not many men done just such in- 
 sane things for women, without ceasing to be honest ? 
 
 As he was about to enter his house, a whirlwind of silk, 
 lace, and velvet stopped the way. A pretty young brunette 
 came out and jumped as lightly as a bird into the blue 
 brougham. Old Tabaret was a gallant man, and the young 
 woman was most charming, but he never even looked at 
 her. He passed in, and found his concierge standing, cap 
 in hand, and tenderly examining a twenty franc piece. 
 
 " Ah, sir," said the man, " such a pretty young person, 
 and so lady-like ! If you had only been here five minutes 
 sooner." 
 
 " What lady ? why ? " 
 
 " That elegant lady, who just went out, sir ; she came to 
 make some inquiries about M. Gerdy. She gave me twenty 
 francs for answering her questions. It seems that the 
 gentleman is going to be married ; and she was evidently 
 much annoyed about it. Superb creature ! I have an idea 
 that she is his mistress. I know now why he goes out 
 every night." 
 
 " M. Gerdy ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, but I never mentioned it to you, because he 
 seemed to wish to hide it. He never asks me to open the 
 
:S4 T/IE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 door for him, no, not he. He slips out by the little stable 
 door. I have often said to myself, ' Perhaps he doesn't 
 \v;mt to disturb me ; it is very thoughtful on his part, and 
 he seems to enjoy it so.' " 
 
 The concierge spoke with his eyes fixed on the gold piece. 
 When he raised" his head to examine the countenance of his 
 lord and master, old Tabaret had disappeared. 
 
 " There's another ! " said the concierge to himself. " I'll 
 bet a hundred sous, that he's running after the superb 
 creature ! Run ahead, go it, old dotard, you shall have a 
 little bit, but not much, for it's very expensive ! ''" The 
 concierge was right. Old Tabaret was running after the 
 lady in the blue brougham. " She will tell me all," he 
 thought, and with a bound he was in the street. He reached 
 it just in time to see the blue brougham turn the corner of 
 the Rue St. Lazare. " Heavens ! " he murmured. " I 
 shall lose sight of her, and yet she can tell me the truth." 
 He was in one of those states of nervous excitement which 
 engender prodigies. He ran to the end of the Rue St. 
 Lazare as rapidly as if he had been a young man of twenty. 
 Joy ! He saw the blue brougham a short distance from 
 him in the Rue du Havre, stopped in the midst of a block 
 of carriages. " I have her," said he to himself. He looked 
 all about him, but there was not an empty cab to be seen. 
 Gladly would he have cried, like Richard the III., "My 
 kingdom for a cab!" The brougham got out of the 
 entanglement, and started off rapidly towards the Rue 
 Tronchet. The old fellow followed. He kept his ground. 
 The brougham gained but little upon him. While running 
 in the middle of the street, at the same time looking out 
 for a cab, he kept saying to himself : " Hurry on, old fellow, 
 hurry on. When one has no brains, one must use one's 
 legs. Why didn't you think to get this woman's address 
 from Clergeot ? You must hurry yourself, my old friend, 
 you must hurry yourself ! When one goes in for being a 
 detective, one should be fit for the profession, and have the 
 shanks of a deer." 
 
 But he was losing ground, plainly losing ground. He 
 was only halfway down the Rue Tronchet, and quite tired 
 out ; he felt that his legs could not carry him a hundred 
 steps farther, and the brougham had almost reached the 
 Madeleine. At last an open cab, going in the same 
 direction as himself, passed by. He made a sign, more 
 
7 HE LE ROUGE CASE. 285 
 
 despairing than any drowning man ever made. The sign 
 was seen. He made a supreme effort, and with a bound 
 jumped into the vehicle without touching the step. " There," 
 he gasped, " that blue brougham, twenty francs ! " 
 
 " All right ! " replied the coachman, nodding. 
 
 And he covered his ill-conditioned horse with vigorous 
 blows, muttering, " A jealous husband following his wife ; 
 that's evident. Gee up ! " 
 
 As for old Tabaret, he was a long time recovering him- 
 self, his strength was almost exhausted. For more than a 
 minute, he could not catch his breath. They were soon on 
 the Boulevards. He stood up in the cab leaning against 
 the driver's seat. " I don't see the brougham anywhere," 
 he said. 
 
 " Oh, I see it all right, sir. But it is drawn by a splendid 
 horse ! " 
 
 " Yours ought to be a better one. I said twenty francs ; 
 I'll make it forty." 
 
 The driver whipped up his horse most mercilessly, and 
 growled. " It's no use, I must catch her. For twenty 
 francs, I would have let her escape ; for I love the girls, 
 and am on their side. But, fancy ! Forty francs ! I 
 wonder how such an ugly man can be so jealous." 
 
 Old Tabaret tried in every way to occupy his mind with 
 other matters. He did not wish to reflect before seeing the 
 woman, speaking with her, and carefully questioning her. 
 He was sure that by one word she would either condemn 
 or save her lover. " What ! condemn Noel ? Ah, well ! 
 yes." The idea that Noel was the assassin harassed and 
 tormented him, and buzzed in his brain, like the moth which 
 flies again and again against the window where it sees a 
 light. 
 
 As they passed the Chaussee d'Antin, the brougham was 
 scarcely thirty paces in advance. The cab driver turned, 
 and said : " The brougham is stopping." 
 
 "Then stop also. Don't lose sight of it; but be ready 
 to follow it again as soon as it goes off." 
 
 Old Tabaret leaned as far as he could out of the cab. 
 The young woman alighted, crossed the pavement, and 
 entered a shop where cashmeres and laces were sold. 
 " There," thought the old fellow, " is where the thousand 
 franc notes go ! Half a million in four years ! What can 
 these creatures do with the money so lavishly bestowed 
 
286 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 upon them ? Do they eat it ? On the altar of what caprices 
 do they squander these fortunes ? They must have the 
 devil's own potions which they give to drink to the idiots 
 who ruin themselves for them. They must possess some 
 peculiar art of preparing and spicing pleasure ; since, once 
 they get hold of a man, he sacrifices everything before 
 forsaking them." 
 
 The cab moved on once more, but soon stopped again. 
 The brougham had made a fresh pause, this time in front 
 of a curiosity shop. " The woman wants then to buy all 
 Paris ! " said old Tabaret to himself in a passion. " Yes, 
 if Noel committed the crime, it was she who forced him to 
 it. These are my fifteen thousand francs that she is fritter- 
 ing away now. How long will they last her ? It must have 
 been for money, then, that Noel murdered Widow Lerouge. 
 If so, he is the lowest, the most infamous of men ! What 
 a monster of dissimulation and hypocrisy ! And to think 
 that he would be my heir, if I should die here of rage ! 
 For it is written in my will in so many words, ' I bequeath 
 to my son, Noel Gerdy ! ' If he is guilty, there isn't a 
 punishment sufficiently severe for him. But is this woman 
 never going home ? " 
 
 The woman was in no hurry. The weather was charm- 
 ing, her dress irresistible, and she intended showing her- 
 self off. She visited three or four more shops, and at last 
 stopped at a confectioner's, where she remained for more 
 than a quarter of an hour. The old fellow, devoured by 
 anxiety, moved about and stamped in his cab. It was 
 torture thus to be kept from the key to a terrible enigma 
 by the caprice of a worthless hussy ! He was dying to 
 rush after her, to seize her by the arm, and cry out to her : 
 " Home, wretched, creature, home at once ! What are you 
 doing here ? Don't you know that at this moment your 
 lover, he whom you have ruined, is suspected of an assas- 
 sination ? Home, then, that I may question you, that I 
 may learn from you whether he is innocent or guilty. 
 For you will tell me, without knowing it. Ah ! I have 
 prepared a fine trap for you ! Go home, then, this anx- 
 iety is killing me ! " 
 
 She returned to her carnage. It started off once more, 
 passed up the Rue de Faubourg Montmartre, turned into 
 the Rue de Provence, deposited its fair freight at her own 
 
THE LEKOL'GE CASE. 387 
 
 door, and drove away. " She lives here," said old Tab- 
 aret, with a sigh of relief. 
 
 He got out of the cab, gave the driver his forty francs, 
 bade him wait, and followed in the young woman's foot- 
 steps. 
 
 "The old fellow is patient," thought the driver; "and 
 the little brunette is caught." 
 
 The detective opened the door of the concierge's lodge. 
 " What is the name of the lady who just came in ? '" he 
 demanded. 
 
 The concierge did not seem disposed to reply. 
 
 " Her name ! " insisted the old man. 
 
 The tone was so sharp, so imperative, that the concierge 
 was upset. " Madame Juliette Chaffour," he answered. 
 
 " On what floor does she reside ? " 
 
 " On the second, the door opposite the stairs." 
 
 A minute later, the old man was waiting in Madame 
 Juliette's drawing-room. Madame was dressing, the maid 
 informed him, and would be down directly. Tabaret was 
 astonished at the luxury of the room. There was noth- 
 ing flaring or coarse, or in bad taste. It was not at all 
 like the apartment of a kept woman. The old fellow, who 
 knew a good deal about such things, saw that everything 
 was of great value. The ornaments on the mantelpiece 
 alone must have cost, at the lowest estimate, twenty thou- 
 sand francs. " Clergeot," thought he, " didn't exaggerate 
 * bit." 
 
 Juliette's entrance disturbed his reflections. She had 
 faken off her dress, and had hastily thrown about her a 
 loose black dressing-gown, trimmed with cherry-coloured 
 .satin. Her beautiful hair, slightly disordered after her 
 drive, fell in cascades about her neck, and curled behind 
 her delicate ears. She dazzled Old Tabaret. He began 
 to understand. 
 
 " You wished, sir, to speak with me ? " she inquired, 
 bowing gracefully. 
 
 ; ' Madame," replied M. Tabaret, " I am a friend of 
 Noel Gerdy's, I may say his best friend, and " 
 
 <; Pray sit down, sir," interrupted the young woman. 
 
 She placed herself on a sofa, just showing the tips of her 
 Httle feet encased in slippers matching her dressing-gown, 
 while the old man sat down in a chair. " I come, madame," 
 
288 THE I.KKu:'(,h CASE. 
 
 he resumed, " on very serious business. Your presence 
 at M. Gerdy's " 
 
 "Ah," cried Juliette, "he already knows of my visit? 
 Then he must employ a detective." 
 
 " My dear child " began Tabaret, paternally. 
 
 " Oh ! I know, sir, what your errand is. Noel has sent 
 you here to scold me. He forbade my going to his house, 
 but I couldn't help it. It's annoying to have a puzzle 
 for a lover, a man whom one knows nothing whatever 
 about, a riddle in a black coat and a white cravat, a sad 
 and mysterious being " 
 
 " You have been imprudent." 
 
 " Why ? Because he is going to get married ? Why 
 does he not admit it then? " 
 
 " Suppose that it is not true." 
 
 " Oh, but it is ! He told that old shark Clergeot so 
 who repeated it to me. Any way, he must be plotting 
 something in that head of his ; for the last month he has 
 been so peculiar, he has changed so, that I hardly recog- 
 nize him." 
 
 Old Tabaret was especially anxious to know whether 
 Noel had prepared an alibi for the evening of the crime. 
 For him that was the grand question. If he had, he was 
 certainly guilty ; if not, he might still be innocent. Mad- 
 ame Juliette, he had no doubt, could enlighten him on that 
 point. Consequently he had presented himself with his 
 lesson all prepared, his little trap all set. 
 
 The young woman's outburst disconcerted him a little ; 
 but trusting to the chances of conversation, he resumed. 
 "Will you oppose Noel's marriage, then ? " 
 
 " His marriage ! " cried Juliette, bursting out into a 
 laugh ; " ah, the poor boy ! If he meets no worse obsta- 
 cle than myself, his path will be smooth. Let him marry 
 by all means, the sooner the better, and let me hear no 
 more of him." 
 
 " You don't love him, then ? " asked the old fellow, sur- 
 prised at this amiable frankness. 
 
 " Listen, sir. I have loved him a great deal, but every- 
 thing has an end. For four years, I, who am so fond of 
 pleasure, have passed an intolerable existence. If Noel 
 doesn't leave me, I shall be obliged to leave him. I am 
 tired of having a lover who is ashamed of me and who 
 despises me." 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 289 
 
 '* If he despises you, my pretty lady, he scarcely shows 
 it here," replied old Tabaret, casting a significant glance 
 about the room. 
 
 " You mean," said she rising, " that he spends a great 
 deal of money on me. It's true. He pretends that he 
 has ruined himself on my account ; it's very possible. 
 But what's that to me ! I am not a grabbing woman ; and 
 I would much have preferred less money and more regard. 
 My extravagance has been inspired by anger and want of 
 occupation. M. Gerdy treats me like a mercenary woman ; 
 and so I act like one. We are quits." 
 
 " You know very well that he worships you." 
 " He ? I tell you he is ashamed of me. He hides me 
 as though I were some horrible disease. You are the 
 first of his friends to whom I have ever spoken. Ask him 
 how often he takes me out. One would think that my 
 presence dishonoured him. Why, no longer ago than last 
 Tuesday, we went to the theatre! He hired an entire box. 
 But do you think that he sat in it with me ? Not at all. 
 He slipped away and I saw no more of him the whole 
 evening." 
 
 " How so ? Were you obliged to return home alone ? " 
 "No. At the end of the play, towards midnight, he 
 deigned to reappear. We had arranged to go to the 
 masked ball at the Opera and then to have some supper. 
 Ah, it was amusing ! At the ball, he didn't dare to let 
 down his hood, or take off his mask. At supper, I had to 
 treat him like a perfect stranger, because some of his 
 friends were present." 
 
 This, then, was the alibi prepared in case of trouble. 
 Juliette, had she been less carried away by her own feel- 
 ings, would have noticed old Tabaret's emotion, and would 
 certainly have held her tongue. He was perfectly livid, 
 and trembled like a leaf. 
 
 " Well," he said, making a great effort to utter the words, 
 " the supper, I suppose, was none the less gay for that." 
 
 "Gay!" echoed the young woman, shrugging her 
 shoulders ; " you do not seem to know much of your friend. 
 If you ever ask him to dinner, take good care not to give 
 him anything to drink. Wine makes him as merry as a 
 funeral procession. At the second bottle, he was more 
 tipsy than a cork ; so much so, that he lost nearly every- 
 19 
 
290 THE LE ROUGE CASE. 
 
 thing he had with him : his overcoat, purse, umbrella, ci- 
 gar-en M 
 
 Old Tabaret couldn't sit and listen any longer ; he 
 jumped to his feet like a raving madman. " Miserable 
 wretch ! " he cried, " infamous scoundrel ! It is he ; but I 
 have him ! " 
 
 And he rushed out, leaving Juliette so terrified that she 
 called her maid. 
 
 " Child," said she, " I have just made some awrul blun- 
 der, have let some secret out. I am sure that something 
 dreadful is going to happen ; I feel it. That old rogue 
 was no friend of Noel's, he came to circumvent me, to lead 
 me by the nose ; and he succeeded. Without knowing it 
 I must have spoken against Noel. What can I have said > 
 I have thought carefully, and can remember nothing ; but 
 he must be warned though. I will write him a line, while 
 you find a messenger to take it." 
 
 Old Tabaret was soon in his cab and hurrying towards 
 the Prefecture of Police. Noel an assassin ! His hate 
 was without bounds, as formerly had been his confiding 
 affection. He had been cruelly deceived, unworthily 
 duped, by the vilest and the most criminal of men. He 
 thirsted for vengeance ; he asked himself what punishment 
 would be great enough for the crime. 
 
 " For he not only assassinated Claudine," thought he, 
 *' but he so arranged the whole thing as to have an inno- 
 cent man accused and condemned. And who can say 
 that he did not kill his poor mother ? " 
 
 He regretted the abolition of torture, the refined cruelty 
 of the middle ages : quartering, the stake, the wheel. The 
 guillotine acts so quickly that the condemned man has 
 scarcely time to feel the cold steel cutting through his 
 muscles it is nothing more than a fillip on the neck. 
 Through trying so much to mitigate the pain of death, it 
 has now become little more than a joke, and might be 
 abolished altogether. The certainty of confounding Noel, 
 of delivering him up to justice, of taking vengeance upon 
 him, alone kept old Tabaret up. 
 
 " It is clear," he murmured, " that the wretch forgot his 
 things at the railway station, in his haste to rejoin his mis* 
 tress. Will they still be found there ? If he has had the 
 prudence to go boldly, and ask for them under a false 
 name, I can see no further proofs against him. Madame 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 291 
 
 Chaffour's evidence won't help me. The hussy, seeing her 
 lover in danger, will deny what she has just told me : she 
 will assert that Noel left her long after ten o'clock. But 1 
 cannot think he has dared to go to the railway station 
 again. 
 
 About half way down the Rue N Richelieu, M. Tabaret 
 was seized with a sudden giddiness. " I am going to have 
 an attack, I fear," thought he. " If I die, Noel will escape, 
 and will be my heir. A man should always keep his will 
 constantly with him, to be able to destroy it, if neces- 
 sary." 
 
 A few steps further on. he saw a doctor's plate on a 
 door ; he stopped the cab, and rushed into the house. He 
 was so excited, so beside himself, his eyes had such a wild 
 expression, that the doctor was almost afraid of his pecu 
 liar patient, who said to him hoarsely : " Bleed me ! " 
 
 The doctor ventured an objection ; but already the old 
 fellow had taken off his coat, and drawn up one of his shirt- 
 sleeves. " Bleed me ! " he repeated. " Do you want me 
 to die ? " 
 
 The doctor finally obeyed, and old Tabaret came out 
 quieted and relieved. 
 
 An hour later, armed with the necessary power, and ac- 
 companied by a policeman, he proceeded to the lost prop- 
 erty office at the St. Lazare railway station, to make the 
 necessary search. It resulted as he had expected. He 
 learnt that, on the evening of Shrove Tuesday, there had 
 been found in one of the second class carriages, of train 
 No. 45, an overcoat and an umbrella. He was shown the 
 articles ; and he at once recognised them as belonging to 
 Noel. In one of the pockets of the overcoat, he found a 
 pair of lavender kid gloves, frayed and soiled, as well as a 
 return ticket from Chatou, which had not been used. 
 
 In hurrying on, in pursuit of the truth, old Tabaret knew 
 only too well, what it was. His conviction, unwillingly 
 formed when Clergeot had told him of Noel's follies, had 
 since been strengthened in a number of other ways. When 
 with Juliette, he had felt positively sure, and yet, at this 
 last moment, when doubt had become impossible, he was, 
 on beholding the evidence arrayed against Noel, abso- 
 lutely thunderstruck. 
 
 "Onwards," he cried at last. " Now to arrest him." 
 And, without losing an instant, he hastened to the Palais 
 
z<)2 THE LEA -IS/-:. 
 
 de Justice, where he hoped to find the investigating magis- 
 trate. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, M. 1 ).i- 
 buron was still in his office. He was conversing with the 
 Count de Commarin, having related to him the facts re- 
 vealed by Pierre Lerouge whom the count had believed 
 dead many years before. 
 
 Old Tabaret entered like a whirlwind, too distracted to 
 notice the presence of a stranger. " Sir," he cried, stut- 
 tering with suppressed rage, " we have discovered the real 
 assassin ! It is he, my adopted son, my heir, Noel ! " 
 
 " Noel ! " repeated M. Daburon, rising. And then in 
 a lower tone, he added, " I suspected it." 
 
 " A warrant is necessary at once," continued the old 
 fellow. " If we lose a minute, he will slip through our 
 fingers. He will know that he is discovered, if his mis- 
 tress has time to warn him of my visit. Hasten, sir, 
 hasten ! " 
 
 M. Daburon opened his lips to ask an explanation ; but 
 the old detective continued : " That is not all. An inno- 
 cent man, Albert, is still in prison." 
 
 " He will not be so an hour longer," replied the magis- 
 trate ; " a moment before your arrival, I had made ar- 
 rangements to have him released. We must now occupy 
 ourselves with the other one." 
 
 Neither old Tabaret nor M. Daburon had noticed the 
 disappearance of the Count de Commarin. On hearing 
 Noel's name mentioned, he gained the door quietly, and 
 rushed out into the passage. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 NOEL had promised to use every effort, to attempt even 
 the impossible, to obtain Albert's release. He in fact did 
 interview the Public Prosecutor and some members of the 
 bar, but managed to be repulsed everywhere. At four 
 o'clock, he called at the Count de Commarin's house, to 
 inform his father of the ill success of his efforts. 
 
 "The Count has gone out," said Denis ; "but if you 
 will take the trouble to wait " 
 
 " I will wait," answered Noel. 
 
 "Then," replied the valet, "will you please follow me? 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 293 
 
 I have the count's orders to show you into his private 
 room." 
 
 This confidence gave Noel an idea of his new power. 
 He was at home, henceforth, in that magnificent house, he 
 was the master, the heir! His glance, which wandered 
 over the entire room, noticed the genealogical tree, hang- 
 ing on the wall. He approached it, and read. It was 
 like a page, and one of the most illustrious, taken from 
 the golden book of French nobility. Every name which 
 has a place in our history was there. The Commarins had 
 mingled their blood with all the great families : two of 
 them had even married daughters of royalty. A warm 
 glow of pride filled the barrister's heart, his pulse beat 
 quicker, he raised his head haughtily, as he murmured, 
 " Viscount de Commarin ! " 
 
 The door opened. He turned, and saw the count en- 
 tering. As Noel was about to bow respectfully, he was 
 petrified by the look of hatred, anger, and contempt on his 
 father's face. A shiver ran through his veins ; his teeth 
 chattered ; he felt that he was lost. 
 
 " Wretch ! " cried the count. 
 
 And, dreading his own violence, the old nobleman threw 
 his cane into a corner. He was unwilling to strike his 
 son ; he considered him unworthy of being struck by his 
 hand. Then there was a moment of mortal silence, which 
 seemed to both of them a century. At the same time their 
 minds were filled with thoughts, which would require a 
 volume to transcribe. 
 
 Noel had the courage to speak first. " Sir," he began. 
 
 " Silence ! " exclaimed the count hoarsely; "be silent ! 
 Can it be, heaven forgive me ! that you are my son ? 
 Alas. I cannot doubt it now ! Wretch ! you knew well 
 that you were Madame Gerdy's son. Infamous villain ! 
 you not only committed this murder, but you did every- 
 thing to cause an innocent man to be charged with your 
 crime ! Parricide ! you have also killed your mother." 
 
 The barrister attempted to stammer forth a protest. 
 
 " You killed her," continued the count with increased 
 energy, " if not by poison, at least by your crime. I un- 
 derstand all now : she- was not delirious this morning. 
 But you know as well as I do what she was saying. You 
 were listening, and, if you dared to enter at that moment 
 when one word more would have betrayed you, it was be 
 
294 THK LKKOUC.E CASE. 
 
 cause you had calculated the effect of your presence. It 
 was to you that she addressed her last word, ' Assassin ! ' ' 
 
 Little by little, Noel had retired to the end of the room, 
 and he stood leaning against the wall, his head thrown 
 back, his hair on end, his look haggard. A convulsive 
 trembling shook his frame. His face betrayed a terror 
 most horrible to see, the terror of the criminal found out. 
 
 " I know all, you see," continued the count ; " and I am 
 not alone in my knowledge. At this moment, a warrant of 
 arrest is issued against you." 
 
 A cry of rage like a hollow rattle burst from the bar- 
 rister's breast. His lips, which were hanging through 
 terror, now grew firm. Overwhelmed in the very midst of 
 his triumph, he struggled against this fright. He drew 
 himself up with a look of defiance. 
 
 M. de Commarin, without seeming to pay any attention 
 to Noel, approached his writing table, and opened a 
 drawer. " My duty," said he, "would be to leave you to 
 the executioner who awaits you ; but I remember that I 
 have the" misfortune to be your father. Sit down ; write 
 and sign a confession of your crime. You will then find 
 fire-arms in this drawer. May heaven forgive you ! " 
 
 The old nobleman moved towards the door. Noel with 
 a sign stopped him, and drawing at the same time a re- 
 volver from his pocket, he said : " Your fire-arms are need- 
 less, sir ; my precautions, as you see, are already taken ; 
 they will never catch me alive. Only " 
 
 "Only? " repeated the count harshly. 
 
 "I must tell you, sir," continued the barrister coldly, 
 " that I do net choose to kill myself at least, not at 
 present." 
 
 "Ah!" cried M. de Comrnarin in disgust, "you are a 
 coward ! " 
 
 " No, sir, not a coward ; but I will not kill myself until 
 I am sure that every opening is closed against me, that I 
 cannot save myself." 
 
 " Miserable wretch ! " said the count, threateningly, 
 " must I then do it myself ? " 
 
 He moved towards the drawer, but Noel closed it with 
 a kick. " Listen to me, sir," said he, in that hoarse, quick 
 tone, which men use in moments of imminent danger, " do 
 not let us waste in vain words the few moments' respite 
 left me. I have committed a crime, it is true, and I do 
 
THE IEKOUGE CASE. 
 
 attempt to justify it ; but who laid the foundation of it, if 
 not yourself ? Now, you do me the favor of offering me a 
 pistol. Thanks. I must decline it. This generosity is 
 not through any regard for me. You only wish to avoid 
 the scandal of my trial, and the disgrace which cannot 
 fail to reflect upon your name." 
 
 The count was about to reply. 
 
 " Permit me," interrupted Noel imperiously. " I do 
 not choose to kill myself ; I wish to save my life, if possi- 
 ble. Supply me with the means of escape ; and I promise 
 you that I will sooner die than be captured. I say, supply 
 me with means, for I have not twenty francs in the world. 
 My last thousand franc note was nearly all gone the day 
 when you understand me. There isn't sufficient money 
 at home to give my mother a decent burial. Therefore, I 
 say, give me some money." 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 "Then I will deliver myself up to justice, and you will 
 see what will happen to the name you hold so dear ! " 
 
 The count, mad with rage, rushed to his table for a 
 pistol. Noel placed himself before him. " Oh, do not 
 let us have any struggle," said he coldly ; " I am the 
 strongest." 
 
 M. de Commarin recoiled. By thus speaking of the 
 trial, of the scandal and of the disgrace, the barrister had 
 made an impression upon him. For a moment hesitating 
 between love for his name and his burning desire to see 
 this wretch punished, the old nobleman stood undecided. 
 Finally his feeling for his rank triumphed. 
 
 " Let us end this," he said in a tremulous voice, filled 
 with the utmost contempt ; " let us end this disgraceful 
 scene. What do you demand of me ? " 
 
 " I have already told you, money, all that you have here. 
 But make up your mind quickly." 
 
 On the previous Saturday the count had withdrawn 
 from his bankers the sum he had destined for fitting up 
 the apartments of him whom he thought was his legiti- 
 mate child. 
 
 " I have eighty thousand francs here," he replied. 
 
 "That's very little," said the barrister ; "but give them 
 to me. I will tell you though that I had counted on you 
 for five hundred thousand francs. If I succeed in escap- 
 ing my pursuers, you must hold at my disposal the balance, 
 
296 TtlK LEKOl (,! 
 
 four hundred and twenty thousand francs. Will you 
 pledge yourself to give them to me at the first demand ? 
 I will find some means of sending for them, without any 
 risk to myself. At that price, you need never fear hear- 
 ing of me again." 
 
 By way of reply, the count opened a little iron chest 
 imbedded in the wall, and took out a roll of bank notes, 
 which he threw at Noel's feet. 
 
 An angry look flashed in the barrister's eyes, as he took 
 one step towards his father. " Oh ! take care ! " he said 
 threateningly ; " people who, like me, have nothing to 
 lose are dangerous. I can yet give myself up, and " 
 He stooped down, however, and picked up the notes. 
 "Will you give me your word," he continued, "to let me 
 have the rest whenever I ask for them ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Then I am going. Do not fear, I will be faithful to 
 our compact , they shall not take me alive. Adieu, my 
 father ! in all this you are the true criminal, but you alone 
 will go unpunished . Ah, heaven is not just. I curse 
 you ! " 
 
 When, an hour later, the servants entered the count's 
 room, they found him stretched on the floor, with his face 
 against the carpet, and showing scarcely a sign of life. 
 
 On leaving r%e Commarin house, Noel staggered up the 
 Rue de 1'Uni" ;rsite. It seemed to him that the pavement 
 oscillated be ;ath his feet, and that everything about him 
 was turning round. His mouth was parched, his eyes 
 were burr //;, and every now and then a sudden fit of sick- 
 ness cv.r.'.me him. But, at the same time, strange to 
 relate, 7 ,r, elt an incredible relief, almost delight. It was 
 ended *ben, all was over; the game was lost. No more 
 anguish now, no more useless fright and foolish terrors, no 
 more dissembling, no more struggles. Henceforth he 
 had nothing more to fear. His horrible part being played 
 to the bitter end, he could now lay aside his mask and 
 breathe freely. An irresistible weariness succeeded the 
 desperate energy which, in the presence of the count, 
 had sustained his impudent arrogance. All the springs 
 of his organization, stretched for more than a week past 
 far beyond their ordinary limits, now relaxed and gave 
 way. The fever which for the last few days had kept him 
 up failed him now ; and, with the weariness, he felt an 
 
THE LEROiJCE CASE. 297 
 
 imperative need of rest. He experienced a great void, an 
 utter indifference for everything. 
 
 His insensibility bore a striking resemblance to that felt 
 by persons afflicted with sea-sickness, who care for nothing, 
 whom no sensations are capable of moving, who have nei- 
 ther strength nor courage to think, and who could not be 
 aroused from their lethargy by the presence of any great 
 danger, not even of death itself. Had any one come to 
 him then, he would never have thought of resisting, nor of 
 defending himself ; he would not have taken a step to hide 
 himself, to fly, to save his head. For a moment he had 
 serious thoughts of giving himself up, in order to secure 
 peace, to gain quiet, to free himself from the anxiety 
 about his safety. But he struggled against this dull stu- 
 por, and at last the reaction came, shaking off this weak- 
 ness of mind'and body. The consciousness of his position, 
 and of his danger, returned to him. He foresaw, with 
 horror, the scaffold, as one sees the depth of the abyss by 
 the lightning flashes. 
 
 " I must save my life," he thought ; " but how ? " 
 
 That mortal terror which deprives the assassin of even 
 ordinary common sense seized him. He looked eagerly 
 about him, and thought he noticed three or four passers- 
 by look at him curiously. His terror increased. He be- 
 gan running in the direction of the Latin quarter without 
 purpose, without aim, running for the sake of running, to 
 get away, like Crime, as represented in paintings, fleeing 
 under the lashes of the Furies. He very soon stopped, 
 however, for it occurred to him that this extraordinary 
 behaviour would attract attention. It seemed to him that 
 everything in him betokened the murderer ; he thought he 
 read contempt and horror upon every face, and suspicion 
 in every eye. He walked along, instinctively repeating to 
 himself : " I must do something." 
 
 But he was so agitated that he was incapable of think- 
 ing or of planning anything. When he still hesitated to 
 commit the crime, he had said to himself; "I may be dis- 
 covered." And with that possibility in view, he had per- 
 fected a plan which should put him beyond all fear of pur- 
 suit. He would do this and that ; he would have recourse 
 to this ruse, he would take that precaution. Useless fore- 
 thought ! Now, nothing he had imagined seemed feasible. 
 The police were seeking him. and he could think of no 
 
298 yyyy. LEROl G CASE. 
 
 place in the whole world where he would feel perfectly 
 safe. He was near the Odeon theatre, when a thought 
 quicker than a Hash of lightning lit up the darkness of his 
 brain. It occurred to him that as the police were doubt- 
 less already in pursuit of him, his description would soon 
 be known to everyone, his white cravat and well trimmed 
 whiskers would betray him as surely as though he carried 
 a placard stating who he was. Seeing a barber's shop, he 
 hurried to the door , but, when on the point of turning the 
 handle, he grew frightened. The barber might think it 
 strange that he wanted his whiskers shaved off, and sup- 
 posing he should question him ! He passed on. He soon 
 saw another barber's shop, but the same fears as before 
 again prevented his entering. 
 
 Gradually night had fallen, and, with the darkness, Noel 
 seemed to recover his confidence and boldness. After this 
 great shipwreck in port, hope rose to the surface. Why 
 should he not save himself? There had been many just 
 such cases. He could go to a foreign country, change his 
 name, begin his life over again, become a new man entire- 
 ly. He had money ; and that was the main thing. And, 
 besides, as soon as his eighty thousand francs were spent, 
 he had the certainty of receiving, on his first request, five or 
 six times as much more. He was already thinking of the 
 disguise he should assume, and of the frontier to which he 
 should proceed, when the recollection of Juliette pierced 
 his heart like a red hot iron. Was he going to leave with- 
 out her, going away with the certainty of never seeing her 
 again ? What ! he would fly, pursued by all the police of 
 the civilized world, tracked like a wild beast, and she would 
 remain peaceably in Paris ? Was it possible ? For whom 
 then had he committed this crime ? For her. Who would 
 have reaped the benefits of it? She. Was it not just, 
 then, that she should bear her share of the punishment ? 
 
 " She does not love me," thought the barrister bitterly, 
 " she never loved me. She would be delighted to be for- 
 ever free of me. She will not regret me, for I am no longer 
 necessary to her. An empty coffer is a useful piece of 
 furniture. Juliette is prudent ; she has managed to save 
 a nice little fortune. Grown rich at my expense, she will 
 take some other lover. She will forget me, she will live 
 happily, while I And I was about to go away without 
 her ! " 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 299 
 
 The voice of prudence cried out to him : " Unhappy 
 man ! to drag a woman along with you, and a pretty 
 woman too, is but to stupidly attract attention upon you, to 
 render flight impossible, to give yourself up like a fool." 
 
 " What of that ? " replied passion. " We will be saved, 
 or we will perish together. If she does not love me, I love 
 her ; I must have her ! She will come, otherwise " 
 
 But how to see Juliette, to speak with her, to persuade 
 her. To go to her house, was a great risk for him to run. 
 The police were perhaps there already. 
 
 "No," thought Noel; "no one knows that she is my 
 mistress. It will not be found out for two or three days ; 
 and, besides, it would be more dangerous still to write." 
 
 He took a cab not far from the Carrefour de 1'Observa- 
 toire, and in a low tone told the driver the number of the 
 house in the Rue de Provence, which had proved so fatal to 
 him. Stretched on the cushions of the cab, lulled by its mo- 
 notonous jolts, Noel gave no thought to the future , he did 
 not even think over what he should say to Juilette. No. He 
 passed involuntarily in review the events which had brought 
 on and hastened the catastrophe, like a man on the point 
 of death, reviews the tragedy or the comedy of his life. 
 Just one month before, ruined, at the end of his expedients, 
 and absolutely without resources, he had determined, cost 
 what it might, to procure money, so as to be able to con- 
 tinue to keep Madame Juilette, when chance placed in his 
 hands Count de Commariu's correspondence. Not only 
 the letters read to old Tabaret, and shown to Albert, but 
 also those, which, written by the count when he believed 
 the substitution an accomplished fact, plainly established 
 it. The reading of these gave him an hour of mad 
 delight. He believed himself the legitimate son : but his 
 mother soon undeceived him, told him the truth, proved it 
 to him by several letters she had received" from Widow 
 Lerouge, called on Claudine to bear witness to it, and 
 demonstrated it to him by the scar he bore. 
 
 But a falling man never selects the branch he trys tc 
 save himself by. Noel resolved to make use of the letters 
 all the same. He attempted to induce his mother to leave 
 the count in his ignorance, so that he might thus black- 
 mail him. But Madame Gerdy spurned the proposition 
 with horror. Then the barrister made a confession of all his 
 follies, laid bare his financial condition, showed himself in 
 
300 T/fK LEI, ASE. 
 
 his true light, sunk in debt ; and he finally begged his 
 mother to have recourse to M. de (Jommarin. This also 
 she refused, and prayers and threats availed nothing 
 against her resolution. For a fortnight, there was a terri- 
 ble struggle between mother and son, in which the barrister 
 was conquered. It was then that the idea of murdering 
 Claudine occurred to him. The unhappy woman had not 
 been more frank with Madame Gerdy than with others, so 
 that Noel really thought her a widow. Therefore, her 
 testimony suppressed, who else stood in his way ? Madame 
 Gerdy, and perhaps the count. He feared them but little. 
 If Madame Gerdy spoke, he could always reply : " After 
 stealing my name for your son, you will do everything in 
 the world to enable him to keep it." But how to do away 
 with Claudine without danger to himself ? 
 
 After long reflection, the barrister thought of a diabol- 
 ical stratagem. He burnt all the count's letters establish- 
 ing the substitution, and he preserved only those which 
 made it probable. These last he went and showed to 
 Albert, feeling sure, that, should justice ever discover the 
 reason of Claudine's death, it would naturally suspect he 
 who appeared to have most interest in it. Not that he 
 really wished Albert to be suspected of the crime , it was 
 simply a precaution. He thought that he could so arrange 
 matters that the police would waste their time in the pursuit 
 of an imaginary criminal. Nor did he think of ousting the 
 Viscount de Commarin and putting himself in his place. 
 His plan was simply this ; the crime once committed, he 
 would wait ; things would take their own course, there 
 would be negotiations, and ultimately he would compro- 
 mise the matter at the price of a fortune. 
 
 He felt sure of his mother's silence, should she ever sus- 
 pect him guilty of the assassination. His plan settled, he 
 decided to strike the fatal blow on the Shrove Tuesday. 
 To neglect no precaution, he that very same evening took 
 Juliette to the theatre, and afterwards to the masked ball 
 at the opera. In case things went against him, he thus se 
 cured an unanswerable alibi. The loss of his overcoaj 
 only troubled him for a moment. On reflection, he reas- 
 sured himself, saying : " Pshaw ! who will ever know : " 
 Everything had resulted in accordance with his calcula- 
 tions ; it was, in his opinion, a matter of patience. 
 
 But when Madame Gerdy read the account of the n;ur 
 
THE LEKOUGE CASK. -501 
 
 der, the unhappy woman divined her son's work, and, in 
 the first paroxysms of her grief, she declared that she 
 would denounce him. He was terrified. A frightful de- 
 lirium had taken possession of his mother. One word 
 from her might destroy him. Putting a bold face on it, 
 however, he acted at once and staked his all. To put the 
 police on Albert's track was to guarantee his own safety, 
 to insure to himself, in the event of a probable success, 
 Count de Commarin's name and fortune. Circumstances, 
 as well as his own terror, increased his boldness and his 
 ingenuity. Old Tabaret's visit occured just at the right 
 moment. Noel knew of his connection with the police, 
 and guessed that the old fellow would make a most valua- 
 ble confidant. So long as Madame Gerdy lived, Noel 
 trembled. In her delirium she might betray him at any 
 moment. But when she had breathed her last, he believed 
 himself safe. He thought it all over, he could see no 
 further obstacle in his way ; he made sure he had tri- 
 umphed. 
 
 And now all was discovered, just as he was about to 
 reach the goal of his ambition. But how ? By whom ? 
 What fatality had resuscitated a secret which he had be- 
 lieved buried with Madame Gerdy ? But where is the use, 
 when one is at the bottom of an abyss, of knowing which 
 stone gave way, or of asking down what side one fell ? 
 
 The cab stopped in the Rue de Provence. Noel leaned 
 out of the door, his eyes exploring the neighbourhood and 
 throwing a searching glance into the depths of the hall of 
 the house. Seeing no one, he paid the fare through the 
 front window, before getting out of the cab, and, crossing 
 the pavement with a bound, he rushed up stairs. Char- 
 lotte, at sight of him, gave a shout of joy. 
 
 " At last it is you, sir ! " she cried. " Ah, madame has 
 been expecting you with the greatest impatience ! She has 
 been very anxious." 
 
 Juliette expecting him '. Juliette anxious ! 
 
 The barrister did not stop to ask questions. On reach- 
 ing this spot, he seemed suddenly to recover all his 
 composure. He understood his imprudence ; he knew 
 the exact value of every minute he delayed there. " If 
 any one rings," said he to Charlotte, " don't open the 
 door. No matter what may be said or done, don't open 
 the door ! " 
 
THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 On hearing Noel's voice, Juliette ran to meet him. He 
 sharply pushed her back into the drawing room, and fol- 
 lowed, closing the door. Only then did she notice her 
 lover's face. He was ro changed, his look was so haggard 
 that she could not help crying out : "What is the matter 
 with you ? " 
 
 Noel made no reply ; he advanced towards her and took 
 her hand. " Juliette," he demanded in a hollow voice, fix- 
 ing his burning glance upon her, "Juliette, be sincere, do 
 you love me ? " 
 
 She guessed, she instinctively felt that something extra- 
 ordinary was happening; she seemed to breathe an 
 atmosphere of evil, yet she playfully replied, pouting her 
 lips most provokingly, " You naughty boy, you de- 
 serve " 
 
 " Oh, enough ! " interrupted Noel, stamping his feet 
 fiercely. " Answer me," he continued, squeezing her pretty 
 hands almost sufficiently to crush them, " yes, or no, do 
 you love me ? " 
 
 A hundred times had she played with her lover's anger, 
 delighting to excite him into a fury, to enjoy the pleasure 
 of appeasing him with a word, but she had never seen him 
 thus before. He had hurt her very much, and yet she 
 dared not complain of this his first harshness. 
 
 " Yes, I love you," she stammered, " do you not know 
 it ? Why do you ask me ? " 
 
 " Why ? " replied the barrister, releasing her hands ; 
 " why ? Because, if you love me you have an opportunity 
 of proving it. If you love me, you must follow me at once, 
 abandon everything. Come, fly with me. Time presses 
 
 The young woman was decidedly frightened. " Great 
 heavens ! " she asked, " what has happened ? " 
 
 " Nothing, except that I have loved you too much, Juli- 
 ette. When I found I had no more money left to give 
 you for your luxury, your caprices, I went mad. To pro- 
 cure money, I I committed a crime a crime : do you 
 understand ? The police are after me, I must fly, will you 
 come with me ? " 
 
 Juliette's eyes grew wide with astonishment ; but she 
 doubted Noel. " A crime ? You ? " she began. 
 
 " Yes, I ! Would you know the truth ? I have commit, 
 ted murder, I have assassinated ! But it was all foi 
 you." 
 
THE LEKOL'GE CAM-.. 303 
 
 The barrister felt that at these words Juliette would 
 certainly recoil from him in horror. He expected her to 
 be seized by that terror which a murderer inspires. He 
 was already fully resigned to it. He thought that she 
 would fly from him ; perhaps there would be a scene. She 
 might go into hysterics, cry out, call for help, for the police. 
 He was mistaken. With a bound, Juliette threw herself 
 upon him, entwining her arms about his neck, and embrac- 
 ing him as she had never done before. 
 
 " Yes, I love you ! " she cried. " You have committed a 
 crime for my sake, you? Then you must have loved me. 
 You have a heart. I did not know you ! " 
 
 It cost dear to inspire passion in Madame Juliette ; but 
 Noel did not think of that. He experienced a moment of 
 intense delight ; it seemed to him that nothing was hope- 
 less. But he had the presence of mind to free himself 
 from her embrace. " Let us go," he said ; " the one great 
 misfortune is, that I do not know from whence the attack 
 may come. How the truth has been discovered is still a 
 mystery to me." 
 
 Juliette suddenly recollected the strange visit she had 
 received in the afternoon; she understood it all. "Oh, 
 wretched woman that I am ! " she cried, wringing her 
 hands in despair ; " it is I who have betrayed you ! It oc- 
 curred on Tuesday, did it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, Tuesday." 
 
 " Ah, then I have told all, without suspecting it, to your 
 friend, that old fellow I thought you had sent, M. Tabaret ! " 
 
 " What, Tabaret has been here ? " 
 
 " Yes, this afternoon." 
 
 " Come, then," cried Noel, " come quickly ; it's a miracle 
 that he has not yet come to arrest me ! " 
 
 He took her by the arm, to hurry her away ; but she 
 quickly released herself. " Wait," said she. " I have 
 some money, some jewels. I must take them." 
 
 " It is useless. Leave everything behind. I have a 
 fortune, Juliette ; let us fly ! " 
 
 She had already opened her jewel box, and was thron- 
 ing everything of value that she possessed pell mell into a 
 little travelling bag. 
 
 " Ah, through your delay I shall be caught," cried Noel, 
 " I shall be caught ! " 
 
 He spoke thus ; but his heart was overflowing with joy : 
 
5 04 THE LEROUGE CASE. 
 
 " \Yhat sublime devotion ! She loves me truly," he said 
 to himself ; " for my sake, she renounces her happy life 
 without hesitation ; for my sake, she sacrifices all ! " 
 
 Juliette had finished her preparations, and was hastily 
 tying on her bonnet, when the door-bell rang. 
 
 "It is the police!" cried Noel, becoming, if possible, 
 even more livid. 
 
 The young woman and her lover stood as immovable as 
 two statues, with great drops of perspiration on their fore- 
 heads, their eyes dilated, and their ears listening intently. 
 A second ring was heard, then a third. 
 
 Charlotte appeard walking on tip-toe. " There are 
 several," she whispered; " I heard them talking together." 
 
 Grown tired of ringing, they knocked loudly on the door. 
 The sound of a voice reached the drawing-room, and the 
 word " law " was plainly heard. 
 
 " No more hope ! " murmured Noel. 
 
 " Don't despair," cried Juliette ; " try the servants' stair- 
 case ! " 
 
 "You may be sure they have not forgotten it." 
 
 Juliette went to see, and returned dejected and terrified. 
 She had distinguished heavy foot-steps on the landing, 
 made by some one endeavouring to walk softly. " There 
 must be some way of escape ! " she cried fiercely. 
 
 " Yes," replied Noel, " one way. I have given my word. 
 They are picking the lock. Fasten all the doors, and let 
 them break them down ; it will give me time." 
 
 Juliette and Charlotte ran to carry out his directions. 
 Then Noel, leaning against the mantel piece, seized his 
 revolver and pointed it at his breast. But Juliette, who 
 had returned, perceiving the movement, threw herself upon 
 her lover, but so violently that the revolver turned aside 
 and went off. The shot took effect, the bullet entering 
 Noel's stomach. He uttered a frightful cry. Juliette had 
 made his death a terrible punishment ; she had prolonged 
 his agony. He staggered, but remained standing, sup- 
 porting himself by the mantel piece, while the blood flowed 
 copiously from his wound. 
 
 Juliette clung to him, trying to wrest the revolver from 
 his grasp. " You shall not kill yourself," she cried, " 1 
 will not let you. You are mine ; I love you ! Let them 
 come. What can they do to you ? If they put you in 
 prison, you can escape. I will help you, we will bribe the 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 305 
 
 jailors. Ah, we will live so happily together, no matter 
 where, far away in America where no one knows us ! " 
 
 The outer door had yielded ; the police were now pick- 
 ing the lock of the door of the ante-chamber. 
 
 " Let me finish ! " murmured Noel ; " they must not take 
 me alive ! " 
 
 And, with a supreme effort, triumphing over his dread- 
 ful agony, he released himself, and roughly pushed Juliette 
 away. She fell down near the sofa. Then, he once more 
 aimed his revolver at the place where he felt his heart 
 beating, pulled the trigger and rolled to the floor. It was 
 full time, for the police at that moment entered the room. 
 Their first thought was, that before shooting himself, Noel 
 had shot his mistress. They knew of cases where people 
 had romantically desired to quit this world in company ; 
 and, moreover, had they not heard two reports ? But 
 Juliette was already on her feet again. 
 
 "A doctor," she cried, "a doctor! He cannot be 
 dead ! " 
 
 One man ran out ; while the others, under old Tabaret's 
 direction, raised the body, and carried it to Madame 
 Juliette's bedroom where they laid it on the bed. 
 
 " For his sake, I trust his wounds are mortal ! " murmured 
 the old detective, whose anger left him at the sight. " After 
 all, I loved him as though he were my own child ; his name 
 is still in my will ! " 
 
 Old Tabaret stopped. Noel just then uttered a groan, 
 and opened his eyes. 
 
 " You see that he will live ! " cried Juliette, 
 
 The barrister shook his head feebly, and, for a moment, 
 he tossed about painfully on the bed, passing his right 
 hand first under his coat, and then under his pillow. He 
 even succeeded in turning himself half-way towards the 
 wall and then back again. Upon a sign, which was at 
 once understood, someone placed another pillow under his 
 head. Then in a broken, hissing voice, he uttered a few 
 words : " I am the assassin," he said. " Write it down, 
 I will sign it ; it will please Albert. I owe him that at 
 least." 
 
 While they were writing, he drew Juliette's head close 
 to his lips. " My fortune is beneath the pillow," he whis- 
 pered. " I give it all to you." 
 
 A flow of blood rose to his mouth \ and they all thought 
 
joo y ///; /./;. 
 
 him dead. JUU he still h;ul strength enough to sign his 
 confession, and to say jestingly to M. Tabaret, " Ah, ha, 
 my friend, so you go in for the detective business, do you! 
 It must be great fun to trap one's friends in person ! Ah, 
 I have had a fine game ; but, with three women in the 
 play, I was sure to lose." 
 
 The death struggle commenced, and, when the doctor 
 arrived, he could only announce the decease of M. Noel 
 Gerdy, barrister. 
 
 XX. 
 
 SOME months later, one evening, at old Mademoiselle 
 de Goello's house, the Marchioness d'Arlange, looking ten 
 years younger than when we saw her last, was giving her 
 dowager friends an account of the wedding of her grand- 
 daughter Claire, who had just married the Viscount Albert 
 de Commarin. 
 
 "The wedding," said she, "took place on our estate in 
 Normandy, without any flourish of trumpets. My son-in- 
 law wished it ; for which I think he is greatly to blame. 
 The scandal raised by the mistake of which he had been 
 the victim, called for a brilliant wedding. That was my 
 opinion, and I did not conceal it. But the boy is as stub- 
 born as his father, which is saying a good deal ; he persisted 
 in his obstinacy. And my impudent granddaughter, obey- 
 ing beforehand her future husband, also sided against me. 
 It is, however, of no consequence ; I defy anyone to find 
 to-day a single individual with courage enough to confess 
 that he ever for an instant doubted Albert's innocence. 
 I have left the young people in all the bliss of the honey- 
 moon, billing and cooing like a pair of turtle doves. It 
 must be admitted that they have paid dearly for their hap- 
 piness. May they be happy then, and may they have lots 
 of children, for they will have no difficulty in bringing 
 them up and in providing for them. I must tell you that, 
 for the first time in his life, and probably for the last, the 
 Count de Commarin has behaved like an angel ! He has 
 settled all his fortune on his son, absolutely all. He in- 
 tends living alone on one of his estates. I am afraid the 
 poor dear old man will not live long. I am not sure that 
 he has entirely recovered from that last attack. Anyhow, 
 my grandchild is settled, and grandly too. I know what i? 
 
THE LE ROUGE CASE. 307 
 
 has cost me, and how economical I shall have to be. But 
 I do not think much of those parents who hesitate at any 
 pecuniary sacrifice when their children's happiness is at 
 stake." 
 
 The marchioness forgot, however, to state that, a week 
 before the wedding, Albert freed her from a very embar- 
 rassing position, and had discharged a considerable amount 
 of her debts. Since then, she had not borrowed more than 
 nine thousand francs of him ; but she intends confessing 
 to him some day how greatly she is annoyed by her uphol- 
 sterer, by her dressmaker, by three linen drapers, and by 
 rive or six other tradesmen. Ah, well, she is all the same 
 a worthy woman : she never says anything against her 
 son-in-law ! 
 
 Retiring to his father's home in Poitou, after sending in 
 his resignation, M. Daburon has at length found rest ; for- 
 getfulness will come later on. His friends do not yet des- 
 pair of inducing him to marry. 
 
 Madame Juliette is quite consoled for the loss of Noel. 
 The eighty thousand francs hidden by him under the pil- 
 low were not taken from her. They are nearly all gone 
 now though. Before long the sale of a handsome suite of 
 furniture will be announced. 
 
 Old Tabaret, alone, is indelibly impressed. After having 
 believed in the infallibility of justice, he now sees every 
 where nothing but judicial errors. The ex-amateur detec- 
 tive doubts the very existence of crime, and maintains that 
 the evidence of one's senses proves nothing. He circu- 
 lates petitions for the abolition of capital punishment, and 
 has organised a society for the defence of poor and inno- 
 cent prisoners. 
 
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