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Updated: July 2, 2025
He had said quite enough, too, and had presented the whole affair under such a new aspect, that his friends became very thoughtful. "You would have converted me, doctor," said M. Folgat, "if I had not been of your opinion before." "I am sure," added M. de Chandore, after hearing the doctor, "the thing no longer looks impossible." "Nothing is impossible," said M. Seneschal, like a philosopher.
M. Magloire and M. Folgat listened to all these remarks, as they heard them in the crowd here and there, with great satisfaction; for in spite of all the assertions of magistrates and judges, in spite of all the thundering condemnations against the practice, public opinion will find an echo in the court-room; and, more frequently than we think, public opinion does dictate the verdict of the jury.
Every morning he received three or four, from the marchioness or M. Folgat, from M. Seneschal or M. Magloire, from M. de Chandore, Dionysia, or even from Dr. Seignebos. Thus he could follow at a distance all the phases, and even the smallest changes, in the proceedings. Only one thing he would not do: he would not come down, however important his coming might be for his son. He did not move.
But it was evident that she was only held up by a kind of feverish excitement, which gave to her cheeks their bright color, to her eyes their brilliancy, and to her voice its clear, silvery ring. Ah! for her sake mainly, M. Folgat longed to end this uncertainty which is so much more painful than the greatest misfortune. The time was drawing near. As Dr.
"I would," said M. Folgat promptly, "I, who, without knowing you, from the beginning believed in your innocence, I who, now that I have seen you, adhere to my conviction." Quicker than thought, M. de Boiscoran had seized the young advocate's hand, and, pressing it convulsively, said, "Thanks, oh, thanks for that word alone! I bless you, sir, for the faith you have in me!"
In less than fifty minutes they had driven the whole distance to Boiscoran; and during this time M. de Chandore and M. Folgat had not exchanged fifty words. When they reached Boiscoran, the courtyard was silent and deserted. Doors and windows were hermetically closed. On the steps of the porch sat a stout young peasant, who, at the sight of the newcomers, rose, and carried his hand to his cap.
He demonstrated by the strength of his arm that he was master. But But, notwithstanding all this, Mrs. Blangin having decided that he should stay, he did stay. Sitting in front of his jail, and given up to the most dismal presentiments, he was smoking his pipe, when M. Magloire and M. Folgat appeared at the prison, and handed him M. Galpin's permit. He rose as they came in.
M. de Chandore, in spite of his vigor, was near fainting, although his face remained as crimson as ever. Nothing on earth could make him turn pale. "Great God!" he murmured, "what will Dionysia say?" Then, turning to M. Folgat, he said aloud, "And yet Jacques had something in his mind for that evening." "Do you think so?" "I am sure of it.
"In other words, Jacques's honor and life depend at this hour on a chance, on the weather on the day of the trial, or the health of a juror. And if Jacques was the only one! But there is Dionysia's life, gentlemen, my child's life, also at stake. If you strike Jacques, you strike Dionysia!" M. Folgat could hardly restrain a tear.
"I did not only not recognize him, but I know that he is innocent. I am sure of it; and I swear it by all I hold sacred in this world which I am about to leave, and in that world in which I must appear before my sovereign Judge. "May M. de Boiscoran pardon me as I pardon myself. "Poor man!" murmured M. Folgat. The priest at once went on,
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