Within an Inch of His Life by Emile Gaboriau (latest novels to read txt) 📕

and we might even take ship there without trouble. But what then? The cable is faster than the fastest steamer; and, upon landing on American soil, I should, no doubt, be met by agents with orders to arrest me. But suppose even I should escape this first danger. Do you think there is in all this world an asylum for incendiaries and murderers? There is none. At the extreme confines of civilization I should still meet with police-agents and soldiers, who, an extradition treaty in hand, would give me up to the government of my country. If I were alone, I might possibly escape all these dangers. But I should never succeed if I had you near me, and Grandpapa Chandore, and your two aunts.”

Dionysia was forcibly struck by these objections, of which she had had no idea. She said nothing.

“Still, suppose we might possibly escape all such dangers. What would our life be! Do you know what it would mean to have to hide and to run incessantly, to have to avoid the looks of every stranger, and to tremble, day by day, at the thought of discovery? With me, Dionysia, your existence would be that of the wife of one of those banditti whom the police are hunting down in his dens. And you ought to know that such a life is so intolerable, that hardened criminals have been unable to endure it, and have given up their life for the boon of a night’s quiet sleep.”

Big tears were silently rolling down the poor girl’s cheeks. She murmured,—

“Perhaps you are right, Jacques. But, O Jacques, if they should condemn you!”

“Well, I should at least have done my duty. I should have met fate, and defended my honor. And, whatever the sentence may be, it will not overthrow me; for, as long as my heart beats within me, I mean to defend myself. And, if I die before I succeed in proving my innocence, I shall leave it to you, Dionysia, to your kindred, and to my friends, to continue the struggle, and to restore my honor.”

She was worthy of comprehending and of appreciating such sentiments.

“I was wrong, Jacques,” she said, offering him her hand: “you must forgive me.”

She had risen, and, after a few moments’ hesitation, was about to leave the room, when Jacques retained her, saying,—

“I do not mean to escape; but would not the people who have agreed to favor my evasion be willing to furnish me the means for passing a few hours outside of my prison?”

“I think they would,” replied the young girl; “And, if you wish it, I will make sure of it.”

“Yes. That might be a last resort.”

With these words they parted, exhorting each other to keep up their courage, and promising each other to meet again during the next days.

Dionysia found her poor aunt Lavarande very tired of the long watch; and they hastened home.

“How pale you are!” exclaimed M. de Chandore, when he saw his grand-daughter; “and how red your eyes are! What has happened?”

She told him every thing; and the old gentleman felt chilled to the marrow of his bones, when he found that it had depended on Jacques alone to carry off his grandchild. But he had not done so.

“Ah, he is an honest man!” he said.

And, pressing his lips on Dionysia’s brow, he added,—

“And you love him more than ever?”

“Alas!” she replied, “is he not more unhappy than ever?”

XXI.

“Have you heard the news?”

“No: what is it?”

“Dionysia de Chandore has been to see M. de Boiscoran in prison.”

“Is it possible?”

“Yes, indeed! Twenty people have seen her come back from there, leaning on the arm of the older Miss Lavarande. She went in at ten minutes past ten, and she did not come out till a quarter-past three.”

“Is the young woman mad?”

“And the aunt—what do you think of the aunt?”

“She must be as mad as the niece.”

“And M. de Chandore?”

“He must have lost his senses to allow such a scandal. But you know very well, grandfather and aunts never had any will but Dionysia’s.”

“A nice training!”

“And nice fruits of such an education! After such a scandal, no man will be bold enough to marry her.”

Such were the comments on Dionysia’s visit to Jacques, when the news became known. It flew at once all over town. The ladies “in society” could not recover from it; for people are exceedingly virtuous at Sauveterre, and hence they claim the right of being exceedingly strict in their judgment. There is no trifling permitted on the score of propriety.

The person who defies public opinion is lost. Now, public opinion was decidedly against Jacques de Boiscoran. He was down, and everybody was ready to kick him.

“Will he get out of it?”

This problem, which was day by day discussed at the “Literary Club,” had called forth torrents of eloquence, terrible discussions, and even one or two serious quarrels, one of which had ended in a duel. But nobody asked any longer,—

“Is he innocent?”

Dr. Seignebos’s eloquence, the influence of M. Seneschal, and the cunning plots of Mechinet, had all failed.

“Ah, what an interesting trial it will be!” said many people, who were all eagerness to know who would be the presiding judge, in order to ask him for tickets of admission. Day by day the interest in the trial became deeper; and all who were in any way connected with it were watched with great curiosity. Everybody wanted to know what they were doing, what they thought, and what they had said.

They saw in the absence of the Marquis de Boiscoran an additional proof of Jacques’s guilt. The continued presence of M. Folgat also created no small wonder. His extreme reserve, which they ascribed to his excessive and ill-placed pride, had made him generally disliked. And now they said,—

“He must have hardly any thing to do in Paris, that he can spend so many months in Sauveterre.”

The editor of “The Sauveterre Independent” naturally found the affair a veritable gold-mine for his paper. He forgot his old quarrel with the editor of “The Impartial Journal,” whom he accused of Bonapartism, and who retaliated by calling him a Communist. Each day brought, in addition to the usual mention under the “local” head, some article on the “Boiscoran Case.” He wrote,—

“The health of Count C., instead of improving, is declining visibly. He used to get up occasionally