CHAPTER XVI
[PIERRE LAMONT SEEKS THE HOSPITALITY OF THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS.]
The following day Pierre Lamont did not leave his bed, and was visited in his room by the Advocate and Christian Almer. To the Advocate he said:
"I trust I shall not incommode you, for I am compelled to throw myself upon your hospitality."
"Get well, then," said the Advocate, "and enjoy it--which you cannot do, thus confined."
"I do not know--I do not know," said the old lawyer, gazing at the Advocate, and wondering how it was possible that this profound thinker and observer could be blind to the drama which was being acted at his very door, "one can still follow the world. Have you read the papers this morning?"
"No--I have not troubled myself to look at them."
"Here is one that will interest you. What is called the freedom of the press is growing into a scandal. Editors and critics abuse their charter, and need some wholesome check. But you are not likely to be moved by what they say."
He handed a newspaper to the Advocate, who walked to the window and read the editorial comments upon the trial and the part he had played in it.
"The trial of Gautran is over, and the monster whom all believe to be guilty of a foul murder is set free. The victim, unavenged, is in her grave, and a heavy responsibility lies not only upon the city, but upon the nation. Neither for good nor ill can the words we write affect the future of Gautran. Released, by the law, he is universally condemned. Justice is not satisfied. In all Switzerland there is but one man who in his soul believes the degraded wretch to be innocent, and that this man should be right and all others wrong we refuse to believe. Never in a cause so weighty have we felt it our duty to raise our voice against a verdict reluctantly wrung from the citizens whose lot it was to judge a human being accused--and we insist, righteously accused--of a horrible crime. The verdict cannot be disturbed. Gautran is free! There is a frightful significance in these words--Gautran is free!
"Removed from the feverish excitement of the court in which the trial took place, the report of the proceedings reads more like a stage drama than an episode of real life. All the elements which led to the shameful result are eminently dramatic, and were, without doubt, planned by the great Advocate who defended the accused with an eye to dramatic effect. It would scarcely surprise us were the climax now reached to be followed by an anti-climax in which Gautran's champion of yesterday would become his accuser of to-day. Our courts of justice are becoming accustomed to this kind of theatrical display. Consider the profound sensation which would be produced by the great lawyer coming forward and saying, 'Yesterday, after a long and exciting struggle, I proved to you that Gautran was innocent, and by my efforts he was let loose upon society. To-day I propose to prove to you that he is guilty, and I ask you to mete out to him his just punishment.' A dangerous temptation, indeed, to one who studies effect. But there is a safeguard against such a course. It would so blacken the fame of any man who adopted it, however high that man might stand in the estimation of his peers and the people, that he could never hope to rise from the depths of shame into which his own act had plunged him.
"Many persons who believe that way will doubtless argue that there is something providential in the history of this ruthless murder of an unfortunate innocent being. She is slain. Not a soul comes forward to claim kinship with her. None the less is she a child of God. Human reason leads to the arrest and imprisonment of Gautran. Providence brings upon the scene a great lawyer, who, unsolicited, undertakes the defence of a monster, association with whom is defilement. The wretch is set free, and Justice stands appalled at what has been done in the name of the law. But this is not the end. Providence may have something yet in store which will bring punishment to the guilty and unravel this tangled skein. What, then, will the great Advocate have to say who deliberately and voluntarily brought about a miscarriage of justice so flagrant as to cause every honest heart to thrill with indignation?"
The Advocate did not read any further, but laid the paper aside and said:
"Men who take part in public matters are open to attacks of this kind. There is nothing to complain of."
"And yet," thought Pierre Lamont, when the Advocate left him, "there was in his face, as he read the article, an expression denoting that he was moved. Well,--well--men are but human, even the greatest."
Later in the day he was visited by Christian Almer, to whom he repeated his apologies.
"I have one of my bad attacks on me. They frequently last for days. At such times it is dangerous for me to be moved about."
"Then do not be moved about," said Almer, with a smile.
But despite this smile. Almer was inwardly disquieted. He had not been aware on the previous night that Pierre Lamont occupied the next room to his. After the departure of the Advocate, Adelaide had not been careful; her voice had been frequently raised, and Almer was anxious to ascertain whether it had reached the old lawyer's ears.
"You slept well, I hope," he said.
"Yes, until the early morning, a little after sunrise. I am a very deep sleeper for four or five hours. The moment I close my eyes sleep claims me, and holds me so securely that, were the house on fire, it would be difficult to arouse me. But the moment the sunshine peeps into my room, my rest is at an end. When I had the use of my limbs I was an early riser."
Almer's mind was relieved. "Sleeping in a strange bed is often not conducive to repose."
"I have slept in so many strange beds." And Pierre Lamont thought as he spoke: "But never in a stranger bed than this."
"You can still find occupation," said Almer, pointing to the books on table and bed.
"Ah, books, books, books!" said Pierre Lamont. "What would the world do without them? How did it ever do without them? But I am old, and I am talking to a young man."
"My father was a bookworm and a student," said Almer. "Were he alive, he would be disappointed that I do not tread in his footsteps."
"Perhaps not. He was a wise man, with a comprehensive mind. It would not do for us all to be monks."