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She is pretty enough, I admit, although rather thin, but, now-a-days, beauty goes for nothing. Men are so mercenary they think only of money. I do not know of one who has the manhood to take a d'Arlange with her bright eyes for a dowry." "I believe that you exaggerate," remarked M. Daburon, timidly. "By no means. Trust to my experience which is far greater than yours.
He was again an investigating magistrate, like the fencing master, who, once practising with his dearest friend, became excited by the clash of the weapons, and, forgetting himself, killed him. "So," resumed M. Daburon, "you met absolutely no one who can affirm that he saw you? You did not speak to a living soul?
For her guest she brought out a clean linen one, her very best. It is for him this magnificent glass, a present, no doubt, and it is evident she did not often use this knife with the ivory handle." "That is all true," murmured M. Daburon, "very true." "Now, then we have got the young man seated. He began by drinking a glass of wine, while the widow was putting her pan on the fire.
Three people have seen him two railway porters and a third person whose testimony will be decisive, for she spoke to him. He was smoking." M. Daburon became so angry with old Tabaret, that he immediately started for Bougival, firmly resolved to bring the too zealous man back to Paris, and to report his conduct in the proper quarter. The journey, however, was useless.
The best and worthiest of men," he added, repeating quite appropriately a phrase already uttered by M. Daburon. "He is a advocate; he knows all about the Palais; he will tell us what to do." Noel's name, thus thrown into the midst of this conversation so full of hope, oppressed Claire's heart. The count perceived her affright. "Do not feel anxious, dear child," he said.
This was the course M. Daburon adopted, all the time cursing Gevrol's absence, as he by a single word could have shortened by a good half the examination, the importance of which, by the way, the magistrate did not even suspect. "In what intrigues did your wife mingle?" asked he. "Go on, my friend, tell me everything exactly; here, you know, we must have not only the truth, but the whole truth."
His face brightened, as he passed the count's arm through his own. When they were gone, M. Daburon could not resist a impulse of curiosity. He hastened to the door, which he opened slightly; and, keeping his body in the background that he might not himself be seen, he looked out into the passage. The count and Noel had not yet reached the end. They were going slowly.
M. Daburon had not slept either: but one could easily see that in his feebleness, in his anxious look, in the dark, circles about his eyes. His shirt-front was all rumpled, and his cuffs were far from clean. Carried away by the course of events, the mind had forgotten the body.
Tell him to read them, and to have the orders they contain executed at once, at once, you understand. Run, take a cab, and be quick! Ah! one word. If Constant is not in my office, have him sought for; he will not be far off, as he is waiting for me. Go quickly!" M. Daburon then turned and said to Claire: "Have you kept the letter, mademoiselle, in which M. Albert asked for this interview?"
The result of this fine project may be guessed. The judge had been compelled to eject her forcibly from his office; hence her fury. M. Daburon found her in the rose-colored boudoir half undressed, her hair in disorder, red as a peony, and surrounded by the debris of the glass and china which had fallen under her hands in the first moments of her passion.
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