The idiot looked fixedly at the Countess Claudieuse with the timid and abject expression of a dog who tries to read something in his master's eyes.
"Tell us, my friend," said the Countess gently,--"tell us."A flash of intelligence shone in Cocoleu's eyes.
"They--they set it on fire," he stammered.
"On purpose?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"A gentleman."
There was not a person present at this extraordinary scene who did not anxiously hold his breath as the word was uttered. The doctor alone kept cool, and exclaimed,--"Such an examination is sheer folly!"
But the magistrate did not seem to hear his words; and, turning to Cocoleu, he asked him, in a deeply agitated tone of voice--"Did you see the gentleman?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who he is?"
"Very--very--well."
"What is his name?"
"Oh, yes!"
"What is his name? Tell us."
Cocoleu's features betrayed the fearful anguish of his mind. He hesitated, and at last he answered, making a violent effort,--"Bois--Bois--Boiscoran!"
The name was received with murmurs of indignation and incredulous laughter. There was not a shadow of doubt or of suspicion. The peasants said,--"M. de Boiscoran an incendiary! Who does he think will believe that story?""It is absurd!" said Count Claudieuse.
"Nonsense!" repeated the mayor and his friend.
Dr. Siegnebos had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them with an air of intense satisfaction.
"What did I tell you?" he exclaimed. "But the gentleman did not condescend to attach any importance to my suggestions."The magistrate was by far the most excited man in the crowd. He had turned excessively pale, and made, visibly, the greatest efforts to preserve his equanimity. The commonwealth attorney leaned over towards him, and whispered,--"If I were in your place, I would stop here, and consider the answer as not given."But M. Galpin was one of those men who are blinded by self-conceit, and who would rather be cut to pieces than admit that they have been mistaken. He answered,--"I shall go on."
Then turning once more to Cocoleu, in the midst of so deep a silence that the buzzing of a fly would have been distinctly heard, he asked,--"Do you know, my boy, what you say? Do you know that you are accusing a man of a horrible crime?"Whether Cocoleu understood, or not, he was evidently deeply agitated.
Big drops of perspiration rolled slowly down his temples; and nervous shocks agitated his limbs, and convulsed his features.
"I, I--am--telling the--truth!" he said at last.
"M. de. Boiscoran has set Valpinson on fire?""Yes."
"How did he do it?"
Cocoleu's restless eyes wandered incessantly from the count, who looked indignant, to the countess, who seemed to listen with painful surprise. The magistrate repeated,--"Speak!"
After another moment's hesitation, the idiot began to explain what he had seen; and it took him many minutes to state, amid countless contortions, and painful efforts to speak, that he had seen M. de Boiscoran pull out some papers from his pocket, light them with a match, put them under a rick of straw near by, and push the burning mass towards two enormous piles of wood which were in close contact with a vat full of spirits.
"This is sheer nonsense!" cried the doctor, thus giving words to what they all seemed to feel.
But M. Galpin had mastered his excitement. He said solemnly,--"At the first sign of applause or of displeasure, I shall send for the gendarmes, and have the room cleared."Then, turning once more to Cocoleu, he said,--"Since you saw M. de Boiscoran so distinctly, tell us how he was dressed.""He had light trousers on," replied the idiot, stammering still most painfully, "a dark-brown shooting-jacket, and a big straw hat. His trousers were stuffed into his boots."Two or three peasants looked at each other, as if they had at last hit upon a suspicious fact. The costume which Cocoleu had so accurately described was well known to them all.
"And when he had kindled the fire," said the magistrate again, "what did he do next?""He hid behind the woodpile."
"And then?"
