Honore de Balzac (27 page)

Marthe was summoned. Her appearance caused much excitement among the
spectators and keen anxiety to the prisoners. Monsieur de Grandville
rose to protest against the testimony of a wife against her husband.
The public prosecutor replied that Marthe by her own confession was an
accomplice in the outrage; that she had neither sworn nor testified, and
was to be heard solely in the interests of truth.

"We need only submit her preliminary examination to the jury," remarked
the president, who now ordered the clerk of the court to read the said
testimony aloud.

"Do you now confirm your own statement?" said the president, addressing
Marthe.

Michu looked at his wife, and Marthe, who saw her fatal error, fainted
away and fell to the floor. It may be truly said that a thunderbolt had
fallen upon the prisoners and their counsel.

"I never wrote to my wife from prison, and I know none of the persons
employed there," said Michu.

Bordin passed to him the fragments of the letter Marthe had received.
Michu gave but one glance at it. "My writing has been imitated," he
said.

"Denial is your last resource," said the public prosecutor.

The senator was introduced into the courtroom with all the ceremonies
due to his position. His entrance was like a stage scene. Malin (now
called Comte de Gondreville, without regard to the feelings of the late
owners of the property) was requested by the president to look at the
prisoners, and did so with great attention and for a long time. He
stated that the clothing of his abductors was exactly like that worn
by the four gentlemen; but he declared that the trouble of his mind had
been such that he could not be positive that the accused were really the
guilty parties.

"More than that," he said, "it is my conviction that these four
gentlemen had nothing to do with it. The hands that blindfolded me in
the forest were coarse and rough. I should rather suppose," he added,
looking at Michu, "that my old enemy took charge of that duty; but I beg
the gentlemen of the jury not to give too much weight to this remark. My
suspicions are very slight, and I feel no certainty whatever—for this
reason. The two men who seized me put me on horseback behind the man who
blindfolded me, and whose hair was red like Michu's. However singular
you may consider the observation I am about to make, it is necessary
to make it because it is the ground of an opinion favorable to the
accused—who, I hope, will not feel offended by it. Fastened to the
man's back I would naturally have been affected by his odor—yet I
did not perceive that which is peculiar to Michu. As to the person who
brought me provisions on three several occasions, I am certain it was
Marthe, the wife of Michu. I recognized her the first time she came by
a ring she always wore, which she had forgotten to remove. The Court and
jury will please allow for the contradictions which appear in the facts
I have stated, which I myself am wholly unable to reconcile."

A murmur of approval followed this testimony. Bordin asked permission of
the Court to address a few questions to the witness.

"Does the senator think that his abduction was due to other causes than
the interests respecting property which the prosecution attributes to
the prisoners?"

"I do," replied the senator, "but I am wholly ignorant of what the real
motives were; for during a captivity of twenty days I saw and heard no
one."

"Do you think," said the public prosecutor, "that your chateau at
Gondreville contains information, title-deeds, or other papers of value
which would induce a search on the part of the Messieurs de Simeuse?"

"I do not think so," replied Malin; "I believe those gentlemen to be
incapable of attempting to get possession of such papers by violence.
They had only to ask me for them to obtain them."

"You burned certain papers in the park, did you not?" said Monsieur de
Gondreville, abruptly.

Malin looked at Grevin. After exchanging a rapid glance with the notary,
which Bordin intercepted, he replied that he had not burned any papers.
The public prosecutor having asked him to describe the ambush to which
he had so nearly fallen a victim two years earlier, the senator replied
that he had seen Michu watching him from the fork of a tree. This
answer, which agreed with Grevin's testimony, produced a great
impression.

The four gentlemen remained impassible during the examination of their
enemy, who seemed determined to overwhelm them with generosity. Laurence
suffered horrible agony. From time to time the Marquis de Chargeboeuf
held her by the arm, fearing she might dart forward to the rescue. The
Comte de Gondreville retired from the courtroom and as he did so he
bowed to the four gentlemen, who did not return the salutation. This
trifling matter made the jury indignant.

"They are lost now," whispered Bordin to the Marquis de Chargeboeuf.

"Alas, yes! and always through the nobility of their sentiments,"
replied the marquis.

"My task is now only too easy, gentlemen," said the prosecutor, rising
to address the jury.

He explained the use of the cement by the necessity of securing an iron
frame on which to fasten a padlock which held the iron bar with which
the gate of the cavern was closed; a description of which was given in
the
proces-verbal
made that morning by Pigoult. He put the falsehoods
of the accused into the strongest light, and pulverized the arguments
of the defence with the new evidence so miraculously obtained. In 1806
France was still too near the Supreme Being of 1793 to talk about divine
justice; he therefore spared the jury all reference to the intervention
of heaven; but he said that earthly justice would be on the watch for
the mysterious accomplices who had set the senator at liberty, and he
sat down, confidently awaiting the verdict.

The jury believed there was a mystery, but they were all persuaded that
it came from the prisoners, who were probably concealing some matter of
a private interest of great importance to them.

Monsieur de Grandville, to whom a plot or machination of some kind was
quite evident, rose; but he seemed discouraged,—less, however, by the
new evidence than by the manifest opinion of the jury. He surpassed,
if anything, his speech of the previous evening; his argument was more
compact and logical; but he felt his fervor repelled by the coldness of
the jury; he spoke ineffectually, and he knew it,—a chilling situation
for an advocate. He called attention to the fact that the release of
the senator, as if by magic and clearly without the aid of any of the
accused or of Marthe, corroborated his previous argument. Yesterday the
prisoners could most surely rely on acquittal, and if they had, as the
prosecution claimed, the power to hold or to release the senator, they
certainly would not have released him until after their acquittal. He
endeavored to bring before the minds of the Court and jury the fact that
mysterious enemies, undiscovered as yet, could alone have struck the
accused this final blow.

Strange to say, the only minds Monsieur de Grandville reached with this
argument were those of the public prosecutor and the judges. The jury
listened perfunctorily; the audience, usually so favorable to prisoners,
were convinced of their guilt. In a court of justice the sentiments
of the crowd do unquestionably weigh upon the judges and the jury, and
vice versa
. Seeing this condition of the minds about him, which could
be felt if not defined, the counsel uttered his last words in a tone of
passionate excitement caused by his conviction:—

"In the name of the accused," he cried, "I forgive you for the fatal
error you are about to commit, and which nothing can repair! We are the
victims of some mysterious and Machiavellian power. Marthe Michu was
inveigled by vile perfidy. You will discover this too late, when the
evil you now do will be irreparable."

Bordin simply claimed the acquittal of the prisoners on the testimony of
the senator himself.

The president summed up the case with all the more impartiality because
it was evident that the minds of the jurors were already made up. He
even turned the scales in favor of the prisoners by dwelling on the
senator's evidence. This clemency, however, did not in the least
endanger the success of the prosecution. At eleven o'clock that night,
after the jury had replied through their foreman to the usual questions,
the Court condemned Michu to death, the Messieurs de Simeuse to
twenty-four years' and the Messieurs d'Hauteserre to ten years, penal
servitude at hard labor. Gothard was acquitted.

The whole audience was eager to observe the bearing of the five guilty
men in this supreme moment of their lives. The four gentlemen looked
at Laurence, who returned them, with dry eyes, the ardent look of the
martyrs.

"She would have wept had we been acquitted," said the younger de Simeuse
to his brother.

Never did convicted men meet an unjust fate with serener brows or
countenances more worthy of their manhood than these five victims of a
cruel plot.

"Our counsel has forgiven you," said the eldest de Simeuse to the Court.

Madame d'Hauteserre fell ill, and was three months in her bed at the
hotel de Chargeboeuf. Monsieur d'Hauteserre returned patiently to
Cinq-Cygne, inwardly gnawed by one of those sorrows of old age which
have none of youth's distractions; often he was so absent-minded that
the abbe, who watched him, knew the poor father was living over again
the scene of the fatal verdict. Marthe passed away from all blame; she
died three weeks after the condemnation of her husband, confiding her
son to Laurence, in whose arms she died.

The trial once over, political events of the utmost importance effaced
even the memory of it, and nothing further was discovered. Society is
like the ocean; it returns to its level and its specious calmness
after a disaster, effacing all traces of it in the tide of its eager
interests.

Without her natural firmness of mind and her knowledge of her cousins'
innocence, Laurence would have succumbed; but she gave fresh proof of
the grandeur of her character; she astonished Monsieur de Grandville and
Bordin by the apparent serenity which these terrible misfortunes called
forth in her noble soul. She nursed Madame d'Hauteserre and went daily
to the prison, saying openly that she would marry one of the cousins
when they were taken to the galleys.

"To the galleys!" cried Bordin, "Mademoiselle! our first endeavor must
be to wring their pardon from the Emperor."

"Their pardon!—
from a Bonaparte
?" cried Laurence in horror.

The spectacles of the old lawyer jumped from his nose; he caught them
as they fell and looked at the young girl who was now indeed a woman; he
understood her character at last in all its bearings; then he took the
arm of the Marquis de Chargeboeuf, saying:—

"Monsieur le Marquis, let us go to Paris instantly and save them without
her!"

The appeal of the Messieurs de Simeuse and d'Hauteserre and that
of Michu was the first case to be brought before the new court. Its
decision was fortunately delayed by the ceremonies attending its
installation.

Towards the end of September, after three sessions of the Court
of Appeals in which the lawyers for the defence pleaded, and the
attorney-general Merlin himself spoke for the prosecution, the appeal
was rejected. The Imperial Court of Paris was by this time instituted.
Monsieur de Grandville was appointed assistant attorney-general, and the
department of the Aube coming under the jurisdiction of this court, it
became possible for him to take certain steps in favor of the convicted
prisoners, among them that of importuning Cambaceres, his protector.
Bordin and Monsieur de Chargeboeuf came to his house in the Marais the
day after the appeal was rejected, where they found him in the midst of
his honeymoon, for he had married in the interval. In spite of all these
changes in his condition, Monsieur de Chargeboeuf saw very plainly that
the young lawyer was faithful to his late clients. Certain lawyers, the
artists of their profession, treat their causes like mistresses. This is
rare, however, and must not be depended on.

As soon as they were alone in his study, Monsieur de Grandville said to
the marquis: "I have not waited for your visit; I have already employed
all my influence. Don't attempt to save Michu; if you do, you cannot
obtain the pardon of the Messieurs de Simeuse. The law will insist on
one victim."

"Good God!" cried Bordin, showing the young magistrate the three
petitions for mercy; "how can I take upon myself to withdraw the
application for that man. If I suppress the paper I cut off his head."

He held out the petition; de Grandville took it, looked it over, and
said:—

"We can't suppress it; but be sure of one thing, if you ask all you will
obtain nothing."

"Have we time to consult Michu?" asked Bordin.

"Yes. The order for execution comes from the office of the
attorney-general; I will see that you have some days. We kill men," he
said with some bitterness, "but at least we do it formally, especially
in Paris."

Monsieur de Chargeboeuf had already received from the chief justice
certain information which added weight to these sad words of Monsieur de
Grandville.

"Michu is innocent, I know," continued the young lawyer, "but what can
we do against so many? Remember, too, that my present influence depends
on my keeping silent. I must order the scaffold to be prepared, or my
late client is certain to be beheaded."

Monsieur de Chargeboeuf knew Laurence well enough to be certain she
would never consent to save her cousins at the expense of Michu; he
therefore resolved on making one more effort. He asked an audience of
the minister of foreign affairs to learn if salvation could be looked
for through the influence of the great diplomat. He took Bordin with
him, for the latter knew the minister and had done him some service.
The two old men found Talleyrand sitting with his feet stretched out,
absorbed in contemplation of his fire, his head resting on his hand, his
elbow on the table, a newspaper lying at his feet. The minister had just
read the decision of the Court of Appeals.