One evening, towards nightfall, she was sitting near him in the most private corner of the garden, with her little child on her knee, whilst the adventurer, sunk in gloomy thoughts, absently stroked Sanxi's fair head.Both were silent, for at the bottom of their hearts each knew the other's thoughts, and, no longer able to talk familiarly, nor daring to appear estranged, they spent, when alone together, long hours of silent dreariness.
All at once a loud uproar broke the silence of their retreat; they heard the exclamations of many persons, cries of surprise mixed with angry tones, hasty footsteps, then the garden gate was flung violently open, and old Marguerite appeared, pale, gasping, almost breathless.Bertrande hastened towards her in astonishment, followed by her husband, but when near enough to speak she could only answer with inarticulate sounds, pointing with terror to the courtyard of the house.They looked in this direction, and saw a man standing at the threshold; they approached him.He stepped forward, as if to place himself between them.He was tall, dark; his clothes were torn; he had a wooden leg; his countenance was stern.He surveyed Bertrande with a gloomy look: she cried aloud, and fell back insensible;...she recognised her real husband!
Arnauld du Thill stood petrified.While Marguerite, distracted herself, endeavoured to revive her mistress, the neighbours, attracted by the noise, invaded the house, and stopped, gazing with stupefaction at this astonishing resemblance.The two men had the same features, the same height, the same bearing, and suggested one being in two persons.They gazed at each other in terror, and in that superstitious age the idea of sorcery and of infernal intervention naturally occurred to those present.All crossed themselves, expecting every moment to see fire from heaven strike one or other of the two men, or that the earth would engulf one of them.
Nothing happened, however, except that both were promptly arrested, in order that the strange mystery might be cleared up.
The wearer of the wooden leg, interrogated by the judges, related that he came from Spain, where first the healing of his wound, and then the want of money, had detained him hitherto.He had travelled on foot, almost a beggar.He gave exactly the same reasons for leaving Artigues as had been given by the other Martin Guerre, namely, a domestic quarrel caused by jealous suspicion, the desire of seeing other countries, and an adventurous disposition.He had gone back to his birthplace, in Biscay; thence he entered the service of the Cardinal of Burgos; then the cardinal's brother had taken him to the war, and he had served with the Spanish troops; at the battle of St.Quentiny--his leg had been shattered by an arquebus ball.So far his recital was the counterpart of the one already heard by the judges from the other man.Now, they began to differ.Martin Guerre stated that he had been conveyed to a house by a man whose features he did not distinguish, that he thought he was dying, and that several hours elapsed of which he could give no account, being probably delirious; that he suffered later intolerable pain, and on coming to himself, found that his leg had been amputated.He remained long between life and death, but he was cared for by peasants who probably saved his life; his recovery was very slow.He discovered that in the interval between being struck down in the battle and recovering his senses, his papers had disappeared, but it was impossible to suspect the people who had nursed him with such generous kindness of theft.After his recovery, being absolutely destitute, he sought to return to France and again see his wife and child: he had endured all sorts of privations and fatigues, and at length, exhausted, but rejoicing at being near the end of his troubles, he arrived, suspecting nothing, at his own door.Then the terror of the old servant, a few broken words, made him guess at some misfortune, and the appearance of his wife and of a man so exactly like himself stupefied him.Matters had now been explained, and he only regretted that his wound had not at once ended his existence.
The whole story bore the impress of truth, but when the other prisoner was asked what he had to say he adhered to his first answers, maintaining their correctness, and again asserted that he was the real Martin Guerre, and that the new claimant could only be Arnauld du Thill, the clever impostor, who was said to resemble himself so much that the inhabitants of Sagias had agreed in mistaking him for the said Arnauld.
The two Martin Guerres were then confronted without changing the situation in the least; the first showing the same assurance, the same bold and confident bearing; while the second, calling on God and men to bear witness to his sincerity, deplored his misfortune in the most pathetic terms.
The judge's perplexity was great: the affair became more and more complicated, the question remained as difficult, as uncertain as ever.All the appearances and evidences were at variance;probability seemed to incline towards one, sympathy was more in favour of the other, but actual proof was still wanting.