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Updated: May 26, 2025
"As the money you won at Monaco proves to you that what is just will happen. Caffie is punished for all his rascalities and crimes, and you are rewarded for your sufferings." "Would it not have been just if Caffie had been punished sooner, and if I had suffered less?" She remained silent. "You see," he said smiling, "that your philosophy is weak."
Before a table a clerk was writing, and near the door two policemen waited, with the weary, empty faces of men whose minds are elsewhere. Soon the judge turned his head toward them. "You may take away the accused." Then, immediately addressing Florentin, he asked him his name, his Christian names, and his residence. "You have been the clerk of the agent of affairs, Caffie. Why did you leave him?"
There was a pause, and Florentin felt the judge's eyes fixed on him with an aggravating persistency. It seemed as if this look, which enveloped him from head to foot, wished to penetrate his inmost thoughts. "Another thing," said the judge. "You did not lose a trousers' button while you were with Caffie?"
Loving a woman who controlled him and made him do what she wished, he let himself be persuaded to-take a sum of forty-five francs that she demanded, that she insisted on having that evening, hoping to be able to replace it three days later, without his employer discovering it." "His employer was Caffie?"
He had begun by not telling Caffie, instantly, what he thought of his propositions; but it is more difficult to act than to control one's self, to speak than to be silent. What would he say, what would he do, when the time for action came? He reached his house without having decided anything, and as he passed before the concierge's lodge absorbed in thought, he heard some one call him.
There were a name and a phrase that recurred to him mechanically from time to time. The name was Caffie, and the phrase was, "Nothing easier." Why should this hypothesis to strangle Caffie, of which he had lightly spoken, and to which he had attached no importance at the moment when he uttered it, return to him in this way as a sort of obsession? Was it not strange?
"Which might have been torn off in a struggle between Caffie and his assassin, I read in a newspaper. But as for me, I do not believe in this struggle. Caffie's position in his chair, where he was assaulted and where he died, indicates that the old scamp was surprised. Otherwise, if he had not been, if he had struggled, he could have cried out, and, without doubt, he would have been heard."
Would no one go up or down the stairs? Would Caffie be alone? Would he open the door? Might not some one ring after he had entered? Here was a series of questions that he had not thought of before, but which now presented itself. He must examine them, weigh them, and not throw himself giddily into an adventure that presented such risks.
Before a table a clerk was writing, and near the door two policemen waited, with the weary, empty faces of men whose minds are elsewhere. Soon the judge turned his head toward them. "You may take away the accused." Then, immediately addressing Florentin, he asked him his name, his Christian names, and his residence. "You have been the clerk of the agent of affairs, Caffie. Why did you leave him?"
When they were reached, he returned to the clerk's office, where the commissioner had installed himself, and was hearing the concierge's deposition. "And so," he said, "from five to seven o'clock no one asked for M. Caffie?" "No one.
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