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Updated: June 23, 2025
If it is not I who fired at Count Claudieuse, and set Valpinson on fire, who is it? 'Where were you, they ask me, 'at the time of the murder? Where was I? Can I tell it? To clear myself is to accuse others. And if I should be mistaken? Or if, not being mistaken, I should be unable to prove the truthfulness of my accusation?
With trembling hands the old marquis unfolded the paper, and read, "Terrible misfortune! Master Jacques accused of having set the chateau at Valpinson on fire, and murdered Count Claudieuse. Terrible evidence against him. When examined, hardly any defence. Just arrested and carried to jail. In despair. What must I do?"
Jacques had, of course, been allowed to visit the house as a lover; and the very day before the fire at Valpinson, after having long and carefully counted the days absolutely required for all the purchases of the trousseau, and all the formalities of the event, the wedding-day had been finally fixed.
He raised his inane face, and fixed his dull eye on the lady superior; but he made no reply. "Would you like to go back to Valpinson?" asked the lawyer again. He shuddered, but did not open his lips. "Look here," said M. Galpin, "answer me, and I'll give you a ten-cent piece." No: Cocoleu was at his play again. "That is the way he is always," declared the lady superior.
Seignebos bent down to kiss her rosy cheeks, and them, looking at her, he said, "You look sad, Martha?" "Yes, because papa and little sister are sick," she replied with a deep sigh. "And also because you miss Valpinson?" "Oh, yes!" "Still it is very pretty here, and you have a large garden to play in." She shook her head, and, lowering her voice, she said,
But in justice I must say that I look upon the countess as the loftiest, the purest, and noblest type of the woman, the wife, and the mother." A bitter smile played on Jacques's lips. "And still I have been her lover," he said. "When? How? The countess lived at Valpinson: you lived in Paris."
The next one was an old man of bad reputation, who lived alone in an old hut two miles from Valpinson. He was called Father Gaudry. Unlike young Ribot, who had shown great assurance, the old man looked humble and cringing in his dirty, ill-smelling rags. After having given his name, he said,
The crime committed at Valpinson is an atrocious, cowardly crime; but it is at the same time an absurdly stupid crime, more like the unconscious act of a madman. Now, I have always been looked upon as not lacking exactly in intelligence. P. That is a discussion. A. Still, Mr. President P. Hereafter you shall have full liberty to state your argument.
Then, as nothing stirred, I went off with rapid strides." "What time was it?" asked M. Magloire. "I could not tell you precisely. My state of mind was such, that I had lost all idea of time. I went back through the forest of Rochepommier." "And you saw nothing?" "No." "Heard nothing?" "Nothing." "Still, from your statement, you could not have been far from Valpinson when the fire broke out."
Then he walked up to him, and said, "Don't be afraid, Cocoleu. We want to do you no harm; only you must answer our questions. Do you recollect what happened the other night at Valpinson?" Cocoleu laughed, the laugh of an idiot, but he made no reply. And then, for a whole hour, begging, threatening, and promising by turns, the magistrate tried in vain to obtain one word from him.
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