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Updated: June 16, 2025
Of course it was hardly probable, but she seemed so imprudent that with her anything was to be expected. He might very easily have met a Mme. Maubel and forgotten her. He found a Maubé and a Maubec, but no Maubel. "Of course, that proves nothing," he said, closing the directory. He went out and threw his letter into the box. "The joker in this is the husband.
On this subject Jacques Maubel refused to give the explanations demanded; and, when the President told him that it was in the accused's own interest to clear up the point, he answered that a man ought not always to do what his own interest requires.
Young Maubel was served with his act of accusation and brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal on the 19 Brumaire. From the first opening of the sitting the President showed the gloomy and dreadful face he took care to assume for the hearing of cases where the evidence was weak. The Deputy Prosecutor stroked his chin with the feather of his pen and affected the serenity of a conscience at ease.
"You love me! Why, you didn't even know that those letters were from me. You loved an unknown, a chimera. Well, admitting that you are telling the truth, the chimera does not exist now, for here I am." "You are mistaken. I knew perfectly that it was Mme. Chantelouve hiding behind the pseudonym of Mme. Maubel."
He cut a lock of his hair, enclosed it in the letter, which he folded and wrote outside: To the citoyenne Clémence Dezeimeries, née Maubel, La Réole. He gave all the silver he had on him to the turnkey, begging him to forward this letter to its destination, asked for a bottle of wine, which he drank in little sips while waiting for the cart....
Again she asseverated she had never known anybody called Maubel. And, having done peeling the quinces, she asked for a basin of water, because her fingers were sticky. This Gamelin brought her, and, as she washed her hands, she repeated her denials. Again he repeated that he knew, and this time she made no reply.
He thought he had discovered him in a young émigré named Maubel, who, having come back to France and been denounced by his host, had been arrested in an inn at Passy; Fouquier-Tinville was in charge of the prosecution, among a thousand others.
The Clerk read the act of accusation; it was the hollowest sham the Court had ever heard so far. The President asked the accused if he had not been aware of the laws passed against the émigrés. "I was aware of them and I observed them," answered Maubel, "and I left France provided with passports in proper form."
Without stirring from her seat, she lifted her beautiful eyes, that gleamed like molten gold, to her lover's face, and said: "See, Évariste, we are working for you. We mean you to have a store of delicious quince jelly to last you the winter; it will settle your stomach and make your heart merry." But Gamelin, stepping nearer, uttered a name in her ear: "Jacques Maubel...."
Letters had been found on him which the accusation regarded as proofs of a plot concocted between Maubel and the agents of Pitt, but which were in fact only letters written to the émigré by a banking-house in London which he had entrusted with certain funds. Maubel, who was young and good-looking, seemed to be mainly occupied in affairs of gallantry.
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