M. Daubigeon, the commonwealth attorney, learned that morning from his chief clerk what had happened, and how the proceedings in the Boiscoran case were necessarily null and void on account of a fatal error in form. The counsel of the defence had lost no time, and, after spending the whole night in consultation, had early that morning presented their application for a new trial to the court.
The commonwealth attorney took no pains to conceal his satisfaction.
"Now," he cried, "this will worry my friend Galpin, and clip his wings considerably; and yet I had called his attention to the lines of Horace, in which he speaks of Phaeton's sad fate, and says,--'Terret ambustus Phaeton avaras Spes.'
But he would not listen to me, forgetting, that, without prudence, force is a danger. And there he is now, in great difficulty, I am sure."And at once he made haste to dress, and to go and see M. Galpin in order to hear all the details accurately, as he told his clerk, but, in reality, in order to enjoy to his heart's content the discomfiture of the ambitious magistrate.
He found him furious, and ready to tear his hair.
"I am disgraced," he repeated: "I am ruined; I am lost. All my prospects, all my hopes, are gone. I shall never be forgiven for such an oversight."To look at M. Daubigeon, you would have thought he was sincerely distressed.
"Is it really true," he said with an air of assumed pity,--"is it really true, what they tell me, that this unlucky mistake was made by you?""By me? Yes, indeed! I forgot those wretched details which a scholar knows by heart. Can you understand that? And to say that no one noticed my inconceivable blindness! Neither the first court of inquiry, nor the attorney-general himself, nor the presiding judge, ever said a word about it. It is my fate. And that is to be the result of my labors. Everybody, no doubt, said, 'Oh! M. Galpin has the case in hand; he knows all about it: no need to look after the matter when such a man has taken hold of it.' And here I am. Oh! I might kill myself.""It is all the more fortunate," replied M. Daubigeon, "that yesterday the case was hanging on a thread."The magistrate gnashed his teeth, and replied,--"Yes, on a thread, thanks to M. Domini! whose weakness I cannot comprehend, and who did not know at all, or who was not willing to know, how to make the most of the evidence. But it was M. Gransiere's fault quite as much. What had he to do with politics to drag them into the affair? And whom did he want to hit? No one else but M. Magloire, the man whom everybody respects in the whole district, and who had three warm personal friends among the jurymen. I foresaw it, and Itold him where he would get into trouble. But there are people who will not listen. M. Gransiere wants to be elected himself. It is a fancy, a monomania of our day: everybody wants to be a deputy. I wish Heaven would confound all ambitious men!"For the first time in his life, and no doubt for the last time also, the commonwealth attorney rejoiced at the misfortune of others. Taking savage pleasure in turning the dagger in his poor friend's wounds, he said,--"No doubt M. Folgat's speech had something to do with it.""Nothing at all."
"He was brilliantly successful."
"He took them by surprise. It was nothing but a big voice, and grand, rolling sentences.""But still"--
"And what did he say, after all? That the prosecution did not know the real secret of the case. That is absurd!""The new judges may not think so, however.""We shall see."
"This time M. de Boiscoran's defence will be very different. He will spare nobody. He is down now, and cannot fall any lower.""That may be. But he also risks having a less indulgent jury, and not getting off with twenty years.""What do his counsel say?"
"I do not know. But I have just sent my clerk to find out; and, if you choose to wait"--M. Daubigeon did wait, and he did well; for M. Mechinet came in very soon after, with a long face for the world, but inwardly delighted.
"Well?" asked M. Galpin eagerly.
He shook his head, and said in a melancholy tone of voice,--"I have never seen any thing like this. How fickle public opinion is, after all! Day before yesterday M. de Boiscoran could not have passed through the town without being mobbed. If he should show himself to-day, they would carry him in triumph. He has been condemned, and now he is a martyr. It is known already that the sentence is void, and they are delighted. My sisters have just told me that the ladies in good society propose to give to the Marchioness de Boiscoran and to Miss Chandore some public evidence of their sympathy. The members of the bar will give M. Folgat a public dinner.""Why that is monstrous!" cried M. Galpin.
"Well," said M. Daubigeon, " 'the opinions of men are more fickle and changeable than the waves of the sea.' "But, interrupting the quotation, M. Galpin asked his clerk,--"Well, what else?"
"I went to hand M. Gransiere the letter which you gave me for him"--"What did he say?"
"I found him in consultation with the president, M. Domini. He took the letter, glanced at it rapidly, and told me in his most icy tone, 'Very well!' To tell the truth, I thought, that, in spite of his stiff and grand air, he was in reality furious."The magistrate looked utterly in despair.
"I can't stand it," he said sighing. "These men whose veins have no blood in them, but poison, never forgive.""Day before yesterday you thought very highly of him.""Day before yesterday he did not look upon me as the cause of a great misfortune for him."M. Mechinet went on quite eagerly,--
"After leaving M. Gransiere, I went to the court-house, and there Ihead the great piece of news which has set all the town agog. Count Claudieuse is dead."M. Daubigeon and M. Galpin looked at each other, and exclaimed in the same breath,--"Great God! Is that so?"
"He breathed his last this morning, at two or three minutes before six o'clock. I saw his body in the private room of the attorney-general.
