"M. Manuel Folgat, who has promised us the assistance of his experience, his talents, and his devotion."When thus formally introduced, M. Folgat bowed, and said,--"I am all hope. But I think with Miss Chandore, that we must go to work without losing a second. Before I can decide, however, upon what is to be done, I must know all the facts.""Unfortunately we know nothing," replied M. de Chandore,--"nothing, except that Jacques is kept in close confinement.""Well, then, we must try to find out. You know, no doubt, all the law officers of Sauveterre?""Very few. I know the commonwealth attorney.""And the magistrate before whom the matter has been brought."The older of the two Misses Lavarande rose, and exclaimed,--"That man, M. Galpin, is a monster of hypocrisy and ingratitude. He called himself Jacques's friend; and Jacques liked him well enough to induce us, my sister and myself, to give our consent to a marriage between him and one of our cousins, a Lavarande. Poor child. When she learned the sad truth, she cried, 'Great God! God be blessed that Iescaped the disgrace of becoming the wife of such a man!' ""Yes," added the other old lady, "if all Sauveterre thinks Jacques guilty, let them also say, 'His own friend has become his judge.' "M. Folgat shook his head, and said,--
"I must have more minute information. The marquis mentioned to me a M.
Seneschal, mayor of Sauveterre."
M. de Chandore looked at once for his hat, and said,--"To be sure! He is a friend of ours; and, if any one is well informed, he is. Let us go to him. Come."M. Seneschal was indeed a friend of the Chandores, the Lavarandes, and also of the Boiscorans. Although he was a lawyer he had become attached to the people whose confidential adviser he had been for more than twenty years. Even after having retired from business, M.
Seneschal had still retained the full confidence of his former clients. They never decided on any grave question, without consulting him first. His successor did the business for them; but M. Seneschal directed what was to be done.
Nor was the assistance all on one side. The example of great people like M. de Chandore and Jacques's uncle had brought many a peasant on business into M. Seneschal's office; and when he was, at a later period of his life, attacked by the fever of political ambition, and offered to "sacrifice himself for his country" by becoming mayor of Sauveterre, and a member of the general council, their support had been of great service to him.
Hence he was well-nigh overcome when he returned, on that fatal morning, to Sauveterre. He looked so pale and undone, that his wife was seriously troubled.
"Great God, Augustus! What has happened?" she asked.
"Something terrible has happened," he replied in so tragic a manner, that his wife began to tremble.
To be sure, Mrs. Seneschal trembled very easily. She was a woman of forty-five or fifty years, very dark, short, and fat, trying hard to breathe in the corsets which were specially made for her by the Misses Mechinet, the clerk's sisters. When she was young, she had been rather pretty: now she still kept the red cheeks of her younger days, a forest of jet black hair, and excellent teeth. But she was not happy.
Her life had been spent in wishing for children, and she had none.
She consoled herself, it is true, by constantly referring to all the most delicate details on the subject, mentioning not to her intimate friends only, but to any one who would listen, her constant disappointments, the physicians she had consulted, the pilgrimages she had undertaken, and the quantities of fish she had eaten, although she abominated fish. All had been in vain, and as her hopes fled with her years, she had become resigned, and indulged now in a kind of romantic sentimentality, which she carefully kept alive by reading novels and poems without end. She had a tear ready for every unfortunate being, and some words of comfort for every grief. Her charity was well known.
Never had a poor woman with children appealed to her in vain. In spite of all that, she was not easily taken in. She managed her household with her hand as well as with her eye; and no one surpassed her in the extent of her washings, or the excellence of her dinners.
She was quite ready, therefore, to sigh and to sob when her husband told her what had happened during the night. When he had ended, she said,--"That poor Dionysia is capable of dying of it. In your place, I would go at once to M. de Chandore, and inform him in the most cautious manner of what has happened.""I shall take good care not to do so," replied M. Seneschal; "and Itell you expressly not to go there yourself."For he was by no means a philosopher; and, if he had been his own master, he would have taken the first train, and gone off a hundred miles, so as not to see the grief of the Misses Lavarande and Grandpapa Chandore. He was exceedingly fond of Dionysia: he had been hard at work for years to settle and to add to her fortune, as if she had been his own daughter, and now to witness her grief! He shuddered at the idea. Besides, he really did not know what to believe, and influenced by M. Galpin's assurance, misled by public opinion, he had come to ask himself if Jacques might not, after all, have committed the crimes with which he was charged.
Fortunately his duties were on that day so numerous and so troublesome, that he had no time to think. He had to provide for the recovery and the transportation of the remains of the two unfortunate victims of the fire; he had to receive the mother of one, and the widow and children of the other, and to listen to their complaints, and try to console them by promising the former a small pension, and the latter some help in the education of their children. Then he had to give directions to have the wounded men brought home; and, after that, he had gone out in search of a house for Count Claudieuse and his wife, which had given him much trouble. Finally, a large part of the afternoon had been taken up by an angry discussion with Dr.