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"Truly," she said, "it seems as if we were guilty and not innocent." "And while we are tormenting ourselves, the criminal, probably, in perfect safety laughs at the police investigations; he had not thought of this button; chance throws it in his way. Luck is for him, and against us once more." This was the plaint that was often on Florentin's lips.
"It is exactly as a doctor that he can save Florentin. He knows that Caffie was killed without a struggle between him and the assassin; consequently without the wrenching off of a button. He will say it and prove it to the judge, and Florentin's innocence is evident. I am going to see him." "I beg of you, do not leave me alone too long." "I will come back immediately."
She could not apply her mind to search for that which agonized her, and she could not close her eyes and ears to what she saw and heard. And what struck them were the same observations, turning always in the same circle, applied to the same subjects and persons: Caffie's name irritated him; Madame Dammauville's angered him; Florentin's made him positively unhappy.
"You do not wish to weaken my hope?" she said, not imagining that he could not think of this hope and of Florentin. This was a path to lead him out of his confusion. In following it he would have time to recover himself. "It is true," he said. "You do not think that what Madame Dammauville saw proves Florentin's innocence?"
His anguish was violent; when he recovered he continued: "What is it in this way of living that has made you uneasy?" "Your constant care not to commit yourself " "Commit myself how?" "I do not know " "What else?" "The anger that you show, or the embarrassment, when the name of Caffie is pronounced, Madame Dammauville's, and Florentin's "
It is by your voice that this woman speaks, whom I do not know, and against whom I must be on my guard, for the sole reason that it is a paralytic who has told this story." She could not restrain the tears that came to her eyes, and she let them flow silently, finding nothing to reply. "I am sorry to pain you," he said. "I saw only Florentin's liberty."
It is by your voice that this woman speaks, whom I do not know, and against whom I must be on my guard, for the sole reason that it is a paralytic who has told this story." She could not restrain the tears that came to her eyes, and she let them flow silently, finding nothing to reply. "I am sorry to pain you," he said. "I saw only Florentin's liberty."
But now the law had found and arrested one who was the brother of the woman he loved. "How was he arrested?" he asked, as much for the sake of knowing as to recover himself. She told what she knew, and read Florentin's letter. "He is a good boy, your brother," he said, as if talking to himself. "You will save him?" "How can I?"
What a strange word in his mouth! It was not out of respect to fashion that she went to church, but because there was in her a depth of religious sentiment and of piety, a little vague perhaps, which Florentin's misfortunes had revived. "I will go to high mass," she said, without letting it appear that this word had suggested anything to her, and continuing her dressing.
This was a path to lead him out of his confusion. In following it he would have time to recover himself. "It is true," he said. "You do not think that what Madame Dammauville saw proves Florentin's innocence?" "Would what may be a proof for Madame Dammauville, for you, and for me, be one in the eyes of the law?" "However " "I saw you so joyful that I did not dare to interrupt you."
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