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But he said nothing of his own labours in collecting the necessary funds for the rebuilding of the church. The recitation of the poem was received with enthusiasm. Monseigneur Bertaud, who preached in the afternoon on the "Infinity of God," touchingly referred to the poems of Jasmin, and developed the subject so happily referred to by the poet.
He was interrupted by the mayor, who re-entered, his eyes glowing, his face animated, wiping his forehead. "I have let the people know," said he, "the indecency of their curiosity. They have all gone away. They were anxious to get at Philippe Bertaud, the brigadier says; public opinion has a sharp scent."
"If it were only that!" muttered he. He added, turning to M. Domini: "Do you recall the allusions of Bertaud, monsieur?" The judge of instruction, the doctor, and M. Plantat exchanged a significant look. What misfortune had befallen M. Courtois, this worthy, and despite his faults, excellent person? Decidedly, this was an ill-omened day!
Her hand pressed against her heart felt no movement there. Her father, noticing the change in her, exclaimed, "Bertaud is quite right, you are sometimes abnormally pale; do you feel ill?" "No, father, it is nothing; I felt dizzy for a moment." "All the same we must hurry Bertaud with his examination." Back in her own room the young girl began to weep. "I shall never escape that man, never, never."
"More than indications, I believe," responded M. Domini. "Old Bertaud, whom I have again questioned, begins to be uneasy. He has quite lost his arrogant manner. I succeeded in making him contradict himself several times, and he finished by confessing that he saw the assassins." "The assassins!" exclaimed M. Plantat. "Did he say assassins?" "He saw at least one of them.
A mud-bank, upon which grew some clumps of flags and some water-lilies, descended by a gentle decline from the bank to the middle of the river. The water was very clear, and there was no current; the slippery and slimy mire could be distinctly seen. M. Courtois had gone thus far in his investigations, when he was struck by a sudden idea. "Bertaud," said he, "come here." The old poacher obeyed.
And running to the staircase, he called his men. The day after Tremorel's death, old Bertaud and Guespin were set at liberty, and received, the former four thousand francs to buy a boat and new tackle, and the latter ten thousand francs, with a promise of a like sum at the end of the year, if he would go and live in his own province.
On Thursday, the 9th of July, 186-, Jean Bertaud and his son, well known at Orcival as living by poaching and marauding, rose at three o'clock in the morning, just at daybreak, to go fishing. Taking their tackle, they descended the charming pathway, shaded by acacias, which you see from the station at Evry, and which leads from the burg of Orcival to the Seine.
The remarks of the judge drew him from his revery; he got up, and said: "There is another point; putting forward the time was perhaps useful to Guespin, but it would greatly damage Bertaud, his accomplice." "But," answered M. Domini, "it might be that Bertaud was not consulted. As to Guespin, he had no doubt good reasons for not returning to the wedding.
I know him, simply because he used to sell me the grapes and strawberries from the count's conservatories; I suppose he stole them; we divided the money, and I left." Plantat could not refrain from an exclamation of satisfaction, as if to say, "Good luck! I knew it well enough!" When he said he would be sent to prison, Bertaud was not wrong. The judge ordered his arrest.
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