ACT I
Scene I:—A small reception-room in an old house at Mauleon.
The curtain rises, revealing Madame Vagret in evening dress; she is altering the position of the chairs to her own satisfaction. Enter Bertha, also in evening dress, a newspaper in her hand.
Bertha. Here's the local paper, the Journal. I sent the Official Gazette to father; he has just come home from the Court. He's dressing.
Madame Vagret. Is the sitting over?
Bertha. No, not yet.
Madame Vagret [taking the newspaper] Are they still discussing the case?
Bertha. As usual.
Madame Vagret. One doesn't need to search long. There's a big head-line at the top of the page: "The Irissary Murder." They're attacking your father now! [She reads] "Monsieur Vagret, our District Attorney." [She continues to read to herself] And there are sub-headings too: "The murderer still at large." As if that was our fault! "Justice asleep!" Justice asleep indeed! How can they say such things when your father hasn't closed his eyes for a fortnight! Can they complain that he hasn't done his duty? Or that Monsieur Delorme, the examining magistrate, isn't doing his? He has made himself quite ill, poor man! Only the day before yesterday he had a tramp arrested because his movements were ever so little suspicious! So you see! No! I tell you these journalists are crazy!
Bertha. It seems they are going to have an article in the Basque paper too.
Madame Vagret. The Eskual Herria!
Bertha. So the chemist told me.
Madame Vagret. I don't care a sou for that. The Attorney-General doesn't read it.
Bertha. On the contrary, father was saying the other day that the Attorney-General has translations sent him of every article dealing with the magistracy.
Madame Vagret. The Attorney-General has translations sent him! Oh well, never mind. Anyhow, let's change the subject! How many shall we be this evening? You've got the list?
Bertha [She takes the list from the over-mantel] The President of Assizes—the President of the Court—
Madame Vagret. Yes. Yes, that's all right; nine in all, isn't it?
Bertha. Nine.
Madame Vagret. Nine! To have nine people coming to dinner, and not to know the exact hour at which they'll arrive! That's what's so trying about these dinners we have to give at the end of a session—in honor of the President of Assizes. One dines when the Court rises. When the Court rises! Well, we'll await the good pleasure of these gentlemen! [She sighs] Well, child!
Bertha. Mother?
Madame Vagret. Are you still anxious to marry a magistrate?
Bertha [with conviction] I am not!
Madame Vagret. But you were two years ago!
Bertha. I am not now!
Madame Vagret. Look at us! There's your father. Procurator of the Republic—Public Prosecutor—State Attorney; in a court of the third class, it's true, because he's not a wire-puller, because he hasn't played the political game. And yet he's a valuable man—no one can deny that. Since he's been District Attorney he has secured three sentences of penal servitude for life! And in a country like this, where crimes are so frightfully rare! That's pretty good, don't you think? Of course, I know he'll have had three acquittals in the session that ends to-day. Granted. But that was mere bad luck. And for protecting society as he does—what do they pay him? Have you any idea?
Bertha. Yes, I know; you've often told me, mother.
Madame Vagret. And I'll tell you again. Counting the stoppages for the pension, he gets altogether, and for everything, three hundred and ninety-five francs and eighty-three centimes a month. And then we are obliged to give a dinner for nine persons in honor of the President of Assizes, a Councillor! Well, at all events, I suppose everything is ready? Let's see. My Revue des Deux Mondes—is it there? Yes. And my armchair—is that in the right place? [She sits in it] Yes. [As though receiving a guest] Pray be seated, Monsieur le Président. I hope that's right. And Monsieur Dufour, who was an ordinary magistrate when your father was the same, when we were living at Castelnaudery, he's now President of the second class at Douai, and he was only at Brest before he was promoted!
Bertha. Really!
Madame Vagret [searching for a book on the over-mantel] Look in the Year Book.
Bertha. I'll take your word for it.
Madame Vagret. You may! The Judicial Year Book. I know it by heart!
Bertha. But then father may be appointed Councillor any day now.
Madame Vagret. He's been waiting a long time for his appointment as Councillor.
Bertha. But it's as good as settled now. He was promised the first vacancy, and Monsieur Lefévre has just died.
Madame Vagret. I hope to God you are right. If we fail this time, we're done for. We shall be left at Mauleon until he's pensioned off. What a misfortune it is that they can't put their hands on that wretched murderer! Such a beautiful crime too! We really had some reason for hoping for a death sentence this time! The first, remember!
Bertha. Don't worry, motherkins. There's still a chance.
Madame Vagret. It's easy for you to talk. You see the newspapers are beginning to grumble. They reproach us, they say we are slack. My dear child, you don't realize—there 's a question of sending a detective down from Paris! It would be such a disgrace! And everything promised so well! You can't imagine how excited your father was when they waked him up to tell him that an old man of eighty-seven had been murdered in his district! He dressed himself in less than five minutes. He was very quiet about it. But he gripped my hands. "I think," he said, "I think we can count on my nomination this time!" [She sighs] And now everything is spoilt, and all through this ruffian who won't let them arrest him! [Another sigh] What's the time?
Bertha. It has just struck six.
Madame Vagret. Write out the menus. Don't forget. You must write only their titles—his Honor the President of Assizes, his Honor the President of the High Court of Mauleon, and so forth. It's the preamble to the menu. Don't forget. Here is your father. Go and take a look round the kitchen and appear as if you were busy. [Bertha leaves the room. Vagret enters in evening dress]
Scene II:—Vagret, Madame Vagret.
Madame Vagret. Hasn't the Court risen yet?
Vagret. When I left my substitute was just getting up to ask for the adjournment.
Madame Vagret. Nothing new?
Vagret. About the murder? Nothing.
Madame Vagret. But your Monsieur Delorme—the examining magistrate—is he really looking for the murderer?
Vagret. He's doing what he can.
Madame Vagret. Well, if I were in his place, it seems to me—Oh, they ought to have women for examining magistrates! [Distractedly] Is there nothing in the Official Gazette?
Vagret [dispirited and anxious] Yes.
Madame Vagret. And you never told me. Anything that affects us?
Vagret. No. Nanteuil has been appointed Advocate-General.
Madame Vagret. Nanteuil?
Vagret. Yes.
Madame Vagret. Oh, that's too bad! Why, he was only an assistant at Lunéville when you were substitute there!
Vagret. Yes. But he has a cousin who's a deputy. You can't compete with men like that. [A pause. Madame Vagret sits down and begins to cry]
Madame Vagret. We haven't a chance.
Vagret. My dearest! Come, come, you are wrong there.
Madame Vagret [still tearful] My poor darling! I know very well it isn't your fault; you do your best. Your only failing is that you are too scrupulous, and I am not the one to reproach you for that. But what can you expect? It's no use talking; everybody gets ahead of us. Soon you'll be the oldest District Attorney in France.
Vagret. Come, come! Where's the Year Book?
Madame Vagret [still in the same tone] It's there—the dates, the length of service. See further on, dear.
Vagret [throwing the Year Book aside] Don't cry like that! Remember I'm chosen to succeed Lefévre.
Madame Vagret. I know that.
Vagret. I'm on the list for promotion.
Madame Vagret. So is everybody.
Vagret. And I have the Attorney-General's definite promise—and the presiding judge's too.
Madame Vagret. It's the deputy's promise you ought to have.
Vagret. What?
Madame Vagret. Yes, the deputy's. Up to now you've waited for promotion to come to you. My dear, you've got to run after it! If you don't do as the others do, you'll simply get left behind.
Vagret. I am still an honest man.
Madame Vagret. It is because you are an honest man that you ought to try to get a better appointment. If the able and independent magistrates allow the others to pass them by, what will become of the magistracy?
Vagret. There's some truth in what you say.
Madame Vagret. If, while remaining scrupulously honest, you can better our position by getting a deputy to push you, you are to blame if you don't do so. After all, what do they ask you to do? Merely that you should support the Ministry.
Vagret. I can do that honestly. Its opinions are my own.
Madame Vagret. Then you'd better make haste—for a ministry doesn't last long! To support the Ministry is to support the Government—that is, the State—that is, Society. It's to do your duty.
Vagret. You are ambitious.
Madame Vagret. No, my dear—but we must think of the future. If you knew the trouble I have to make both ends meet! We ought to get Bertha married. And the boys will cost us more and more as time goes on. And in our position we are bound to incur certain useless expenses which we could very well do without; but we have to keep up appearances; we have to "keep up our position." We want Georges to enter the Polytechnique, and that'll cost a lot of money. And Henri, if he's going to study law—you'd be able to help him on all the better if you held a better position.
Vagret [after a brief silence] I haven't told you everything.
Madame Vagret. What is it?
Vagret [timidly] Cortan has been appointed Councillor at Amiens.
Madame Vagret [exasperated] Cortan! That idiot of a Cortan?
Vagret. Yes.
Madame Vagret. This is too much!
Vagret. What can you expect? The new Keeper of the Seals is in his department. You can't fight against that!
Madame Vagret. There's always something—Cortan! Won't she be making a show of herself—Madame Cortan—who spells "indictment" i-n-d-i-t-e? She'll be showing off her yellow hat! Don't you remember her famous yellow hat?
Vagret. No.
Madame Vagret. It's her husband who ought to wear that color!
Vagret. Rosa, that's unjust.
Madame Vagret [painfully excited] I know it—but it does me good!
Enter Catialéna.
Catialéna. Madame, where shall I put the parcel we took from the linen-closet this morning?
Madame Vagret. What parcel?
Catialéna. The parcel—you know, Madame—when we were arranging the things in the linen-closet.
Madame Vagret [suddenly] Oh—yes, yes. Take it to my room.
Catialéna. Where shall I put it there?
Madame Vagret. Oh well, put it down here. I will put it away myself.
Catialéna. Very good, Madame. [She leaves the room]
Madame Vagret [snipping at the parcel and speaking to herself] It's no use stuffing it with moth-balls—it'll all be moth-eaten before ever you wear it.
Vagret. What is it?
Madame Vagret [placing the parcel on the table and opening the wrapper] Look!
Vagret. Ah, yes—my red robe—the one you bought for me—in advance—two years ago.
Madame Vagret. Yes. That time it was Gamard who was appointed instead of you.
Vagret. What could you expect? Gamard had a deputy for his brother-in-law; there's no getting over that. The Ministry has to assure itself of a majority.
Madame Vagret. And to think that in spite of all my searching I haven't been able to discover so much as a municipal councillor among our relations!
Vagret. Well—hide this thing. It torments me. [He returns the gown, which he had unfolded, to his wife] In any case I dare say it wouldn't fit me now.
Madame Vagret. Oh, they fit anybody, these things!
Vagret. Let's see—[He takes off his coat]
Madame Vagret. And it means a thousand francs more a year!
Vagret. It isn't faded. [At this moment Bertha enters. Vagret hides the red gown] What is it?
Bertha. It's only me.
Vagret. You startled me.
Bertha [catching sight of the gown] You've been appointed! You've been appointed!
Vagret. Do be quiet! Turn the key in the door!
Bertha. Papa has been appointed!
Madame Vagret. Do as you're told! No, he hasn't been appointed.
Vagret. It's really as good as new. [He slips it on]
Madame Vagret. Well, I should hope so! I took care to get the very best silk.
Vagret. Ah, if I could only wear this on my back when I'm demanding the conviction of the Irissary murderer! Say what you like, the man who devised this costume was no fool! It's this sort of thing that impresses the jury. And the prisoner too! I've seen him unable to tear his eyes from the gown of the State Attorney! And you feel a stronger man when you wear it. It gives one a better presence, and one's gestures are more dignified: "Gentlemen of the court, gentlemen of the jury!" Couldn't I make an impressive indictment? "Gentlemen of the court, gentlemen of the jury! In the name of society, of which I am the avenging voice—in the name of the sacred interests of humanity—in the name of the eternal principles of morality—fortified by the consciousness of my duty and my right—I rise—[He repeats his gesture] I rise to demand the head of the wretched man who stands before you!"
Madame Vagret. How well you speak!
Vagret, with a shrug of the shoulders and a sigh, slowly and silently removes the gown and hands it to his wife.
Vagret. Here—put it away.
Madame Vagret. There's the bell.
Bertha. Yes.
Madame Vagret [to her daughter] Take it.
Bertha. Yes, mother. [She makes a parcel of the gown and is about to leave the room]
Madame Vagret. Bertha!
Bertha. Yes, mother!
Madame Vagret [tearfully] Put some more moth-balls in it—poor child!
Bertha goes out. Catialéna enters.
Scene III:—Vagret, Madame Vagret, Catialéna.
Catialéna [holding out an envelope] This has just come for you, sir. [She goes out again]
Vagret. What's this? The Basque paper—the Eskual Herria—an article marked with blue pencil. [He reads] "Eskual herri guzia hamabartz egun huntan—" How's one to make head or tail of such a barbarian language!
Madame Vagret [reading over his shoulder] It's about you—
Vagret. No!
Madame Vagret. Yes. There! "Vagret procuradoreak galdegin—" Wait a minute. [Calling through the further doorway] Catialéna! Catialéna!
Vagret. What is it?
Madame Vagret. Catialéna will translate it for us. [To Catialéna, who has entered] Here, Catialéna, just read this bit for us, will you?
Catialéna. Why, yes, Madame. [She reads] "Eta gaitzegilia ozda oraino gakpoian Irrysaryko."
Vagret. And what does that mean?
Catialéna. That means—they haven't arrested the Irissary murderer yet.
Vagret. We know that. And then?
Catialéna. "Baginakien yadanik dona Mauleano tribunala yuye arin edo tzarrenda berechiazela." That means there are no magistrates at Mauleon except those they've got rid of from other places, and who don't know their business—empty heads they've got.
Vagret. Thanks—that's enough.
Madame Vagret. No, no! Go on, Catialéna!
Catialéna. "Yaun hoyen Biribi—"
Madame Vagret. Biribi?
Catialéna. Yes, Madame.
Madame Vagret. Well, what does Biribi mean in Basque?
Catialéna. I don't know.
Madame Vagret. What? You don't know? You mean you don't want to say? Is it a bad word?
Catialéna. Oh no, Madame, I should know it then.
Vagret. Biribi—
Bertha. Perhaps it's a nickname they give you.
Madame Vagret. Perhaps that's it. [A pause] Well?
Catialéna. They're speaking of the master.
Madame Vagret [to her husband] I told you so. [To Catialéna] Abusing him?
Vagret. I tell you that's enough! [He snatches the paper from Catialéna and puts it in his pocket] Go back to the kitchen. Hurry now—quicker than that!
Catialéna. Well, sir, I swear I won't tell you the rest of it.
Vagret. No one's asking you to. Be off.
Catialéna. I knew the master would be angry. [She turns to go]
Catialéna. Yes, Madame?
Madame Vagret. Really now, you don't know what Biribi means?
Catialéna. No, Madame, I swear I don't.
Madame Vagret. That's all right. There's the bell—go and see who it is. [Catialéna goes] I shall give that woman a week's notice, and no later than to-morrow.
Vagret. But really—
Catialéna [returning] If you please, sir, it's Monsieur Delorme.
Madame Vagret. Your examining magistrate?
Vagret. Yes. He's come to give me his reply. [To Catialéna] Show him in.
Madame Vagret. What reply?
Vagret. He has come to return me his brief.
Madame Vagret. The brief?
Vagret. Yes. I asked him to think it over until this evening.
Madame Vagret. He'll have to stay to dinner.
Vagret. No. You know perfectly well his health—Here he is. Run away.
Madame Vagret [amiably, as she goes out] Good-evening, Monsieur Delorme.
Delorme. Madame!
Scene IV:—Vagret, Delorme.
Vagret. Well, my dear fellow, what is it?
Delorme. Well, it's no—positively no.
Vagret. Why?
Delorme. I've told you. [A pause]
Vagret. And the alibi of your accused?
Delorme. I've verified it.
Vagret. Does it hold water?
Delorme. Incontestably.
Vagret [dejectedly] Then you've set your man at liberty?
Delorme [regretfully] I simply had to.
Vagret [the same] Obviously. [A pause] There is not a chance?
Delorme. No.
Vagret. Well, then?
Delorme. Well, I beg you to give the brief to someone else.
Vagret. Is that final?
Delorme. Yes. You see, my dear fellow, I'm too old to adapt myself to the customs of the day. I'm a magistrate of the old school, just as you are. I inherited from my father certain scruples which are no longer the fashion. These daily attacks in the press get on my nerves.
Vagret. They would cease at the news of an arrest.
Delorme. Precisely. I should end by doing something foolish. Well, I have done something foolish already. I should not have arrested that man if I had not been badgered as I was.
Vagret. He was a tramp. You gave him shelter for a few days. There's no great harm done there.
Delorme. All the same—
Vagret. You let yourself be too easily discouraged. To-night or to-morrow something may turn up to put you on a new scent.
Delorme. Even then—Do you know what they are saying? They are saying that Maître Plaçat, the Bordeaux advocate, is coming to defend the prisoner.
Vagret. I don't see what he has to gain by that.
Delorme. He wants to come forward at the next election in our arrondissement—and he counts on attacking certain persons in his plea, so as to gain a little popularity.
Vagret. How can that affect you?
Delorme. Why, he can be present at all the interrogations of the accused. The law allows it—and as he is ravenous for publicity, he would tell the newspapers just what he pleased, and if my proceedings didn't suit him, I'd be vilified in the papers day after day.
Vagret. You are exaggerating.
Delorme. I'm not. Nowadays an examination takes place in the market-place or the editorial offices of the newspapers rather than in the magistrate's office.
Vagret. That is true where notorious criminals are concerned. In reality the new law benefits them and them only—you know as well as I do that for the general run of accused persons—
Delorme. Seriously, I beg you to take the brief back.
Vagret. Come! You can't imagine that Maître Plaçat, who has a hundred cases to plead, can be present at all your interrogations. You know what usually happens. He'll send some little secretary—if he sends anyone.
Delorme. I beg you not to insist, my dear Vagret. My decision is irrevocable.
Vagret. Then—
Delorme. Allow me to take my leave. I don't want to meet my colleagues who are dining with you.
Vagret. Then I'll see you to-morrow. I'm sorry—
Delorme. Good-night.
He goes out. Madame Vagret at once enters by another door.
Scene V:—Vagret, Madame Vagret, then Bertha, Bunerat, La Bouzole, Mouzon.
Madame Vagret. Well, I heard—he gave you back the brief.
Vagret. Yes—his health—the newspapers—
Madame Vagret. And now?
Vagret. Be careful. No one suspects anything yet.
Madame Vagret. Make your mind easy. [She listens] This time it is our guests.
Bertha. [entering] Here they are.
Madame Vagret. To your work, Bertha! And for me the Revue des Deux Mondes.
They sit down. A pause.
Bertha. They are a long time.
Madame Vagret. It's Madame Bunerat. Her manners always take time.
The Manservant. His Honor the President of the Court and Madame Bunerat.
Madame Vagret. How do you do, dear Madame Bunerat? [They exchange greetings]
The Manservant. His Honor Judge La Bouzole. His worship Judge Mouzon.
Salutations; the guests seat themselves.
Madame Vagret [to Madame Bunerat] Well, Madame, so another session's finished!
Madame Bunerat. Yes, at last!
Madame Vagret. Your husband, I imagine, is not sorry.
Madame Bunerat. Nor yours, I'm sure.
Madame Vagret. And the President of Assizes?
Bunerat. He will be a little late. He wants to get away early to-morrow morning, and he has a mass of documents to sign. You must remember the Court has barely risen. When we saw that we should be sitting so late we sent for our evening clothes, and we changed while the jury was deliberating; then we put our robes on over them to pronounce sentence.
Madame Vagret. And the sentence was?
Madame Vagret. Again! Oh, the juries are crazy!
Vagret. My dear, you express yourself just a little freely.
Madame Bunerat. Now, my dear Madame Vagret, you mustn't worry yourself.
She leads her up the stage.
Bunerat [to Vagret] Yes, my dear colleague, an acquittal. That makes three this session.
Mouzon [a man of forty, whiskered and foppish] Three prisoners whom we have had to set at liberty because we couldn't hold them for other causes.
Bunerat. A regular run on the black!
La Bouzole [a man of seventy] My dear colleagues would prefer a run on the red.
Bunerat. La Bouzole, you are a cynic! I do not understand how you can have the courage to joke on such a subject.
La Bouzole. I shouldn't joke if your prisoners were condemned.
Mouzon. I'm not thinking of our prisoners—I'm thinking of ourselves. If you imagine we shall receive the congratulations of the Chancellery, you are mistaken.
Bunerat. He doesn't care a straw if the Mauleon Court does earn a black mark in Paris.
La Bouzole. You have said it, Bunerat; I don't care a straw! I have nothing more to look for. I shall be seventy years old next week, and I retire automatically. Nothing more to hope for; I have a right to judge matters according to my own conscience. I'm out of school! [He gives a little skip] Don't get your backs up—I've done—I see the Year Book over there; I'm going to look out the dates of the coming vacation for you. [He takes a seat to the left]
Bunerat. Well, there it is. [To Vagret] The President of Assizes is furious.
Mouzon. It won't do him any good either.
Vagret. And my substitute?
Bunerat. You may well say "your substitute"!
Mouzon. It's all his fault. He pleaded extenuating circumstances. He!
Bunerat. Where does the idiot hail from?
Vagret. He's far from being an idiot, I assure you. He was secretary to the Conference in Paris; he is a doctor of laws and full of talent.
Bunerat. Talent!
Vagret. I assure you he has a real talent for speaking.
Bunerat. So we observed.
Vagret. He's a very distinguished young fellow.
Bunerat [with emphasis] Well! When a man has such talent as that he becomes an advocate; he doesn't enter the magistracy.
Madame Vagret [to La Bouzole, who approaches her] So really, Monsieur La Bouzole, it seems it's the fault of the new substitute.
Madame Bunerat. Tell us all about it.
La Bouzole. It was like this. [He turns towards the ladies and continues in a low tone. Bertha, who has entered the room, joins the group, of which Vagret also forms one]
Mouzon [to Bunerat] All this won't hasten our poor Vagret's nomination.
Bunerat [smiling] The fact is he hasn't a chance at the present moment, poor chap!
Mouzon. Is it true that they were really seriously thinking of him when there is a certain other magistrate in the same court?
Bunerat [with false modesty] I don't think I—Of whom are you speaking?
Mouzon. Of yourself, my dear President.
Bunerat. They have indeed mentioned my name at the Ministry.
Mouzon. When you preside at Assizes the proceedings will be far more interesting than they are at present.
Bunerat. Now how can you tell that, my dear Mouzon?
Mouzon. Because I have seen you preside over the Correctional Court. [He laughs]
Bunerat. Why do you laugh?
Mouzon. I just remembered that witty remark of yours the other day.
Bunerat [delighted] I don't recall it.
Mouzon. It really was very witty! [He laughs]
Bunerat. What was it? Did I say anything witty? I don't remember.
Mouzon. Anything? A dozen things—a score. You were in form that day! What a figure he cut—the prisoner. You know, the fellow who was so badly dressed. Cock his name was.
Bunerat. Ah, yes! When I said: "Cock, turn yourself on and let your confession trickle out!"
Mouzon [laughing] That was it! That was it! And the witness for the defence—that idiot. Didn't you make him look a fool? He couldn't finish his evidence, they laughed so when you said: "If you wish to conduct the case, only say so. Perhaps you'd like to take my place?"
Bunerat. Ah, yes! Ladies, my good friend here reminds me of a rather amusing anecdote. The other day—it was in the Correctional Court—
The Manservant [announcing] Monsieur Gabriel Ardeuil.
Scene VI:—The same, with Ardeuil.
Ardeuil [to Madame Vagret] I hope you'll forgive me for coming so late. I was detained until now.
Madame Vagret. I will forgive you all the more readily since I'm told you have had such a success to-day as will make all the advocates of the district jealous of you.
Ardeuil is left to himself.
La Bouzole [touching him on the shoulder] Young man—come, sit down by me—as a favor. Do you realize that it won't take many trials like to-day's to get you struck off the rolls?
Ardeuil. I couldn't be struck off the rolls because—
La Bouzole. Hang it all—a man does himself no good by appearing singular.
Ardeuil. Singular! But you yourself—Well, the deliberations are secret, but for all that I know you stand for independence and goodness of heart in this Court.
La Bouzole. Yes, I've permitted myself that luxury—lately.
Ardeuil. Lately?
La Bouzole. Yes, yes, my young friend, for some little time. Because for some little time I've been cured of the disease which turns so many honest fellows into bad magistrates. That disease is the fever of promotion. Look at those men there. If they weren't infected by this microbe, they would be just, kindly gentlemen, instead of cruel and servile magistrates.
Ardeuil. You exaggerate, sir. The French magistracy is not—
La Bouzole. It is not venal—that's the truth. Among our four thousand magistrates you might perhaps not find one—you hear me, not one—even among the poorest and most obscure—who would accept a money bribe in order to modify his judgment. That is the glory of our country's magistracy and its special virtue. But a great number of our magistrates are ready to be complaisant—even to give way—when it is a question of making themselves agreeable to an influential elector, or to the deputy, or to the minister who distributes appointments and favors. Universal suffrage is the god and the tyrant of the magistrate. So you are right—and I am not wrong.
Ardeuil. Nothing can deprive us of our independence.
La Bouzole. That is so. But, as Monsieur de Tocqueville once remarked, we can offer it up as a sacrifice.
Ardeuil. You are a misanthrope. There are magistrates whom no promise of any kind—
La Bouzole. Yes, there are. Those who are not needy or who have no ambitions. Yes, there are obscure persons who devote their whole lives to their professions and who never ask for anything for themselves. But you can take my word for it that they are the exceptions, and that our Court of Mauleon, which you yourself have seen, represents about the average of our judicial morality. I exaggerate, you think? Well! Let us suppose that in all France there are only fifty Courts like this. Suppose there are only twenty—suppose there is only one. It is still one too many! Why, my young friend, what sort of an idea have you got of the magistracy?
Ardeuil. It frightens me.
La Bouzole. You are speaking seriously?
Ardeuil. Certainly.
La Bouzole. Then why did you become a substitute?
Ardeuil. Through no choice of my own! My people pushed me into the profession.
La Bouzole. Yes. People look on the magistracy as a career. That is to say, from the moment you enter it you have only one object—to get on. [A pause]
Ardeuil. Yet it would be a noble thing—to dispense justice tempered with mercy.
La Bouzole. Yes—it should be. [A pause] Do you want the advice of a man who has for forty years been a judge of the third class?
Ardeuil. I should value it.
La Bouzole. Send in your resignation. You have mistaken your vocation. You wear the wrong robe. The man who attempts to put into practice the ideas you have expressed must wear the priest's cassock.
Ardeuil [as though to himself] Yes—but for that one must have a simple heart—a heart open to faith.
Bunerat [who is with the others] If only we had the luck to have a deputy of the department for Keeper of the Seals! Just for a week!
La Bouzole [to Ardeuil] There, my boy, that's the sort of thing one has to think about.
The Manservant [entering] From his Honor the President of Assizes. [He gives Vagret a letter]
Vagret. He isn't coming?
Madame Vagret [after reading the note] He isn't coming.
Bunerat. I hardly expected him.
Madame Vagret. A nervous headache he says. He left by the 6:49 train.
Mouzon. That's significant!
Madame Bunerat. It would be impossible to mark his disapproval more clearly.
Bunerat. Three acquittals too!
Madame Bunerat. If it had been a question of celebrated pleaders! But newly fledged advocates!
Madame Vagret [to her daughter] My poor child! What will his report be like?
Bertha. What report?
Madame Vagret. Don't you know? At the close of each session the President submits a report to the Minister—Ah, my dear Madame Bunerat! [The three women seat themselves at the back of the stage]
Mouzon. Three acquittals—and the Irissary murder. A deplorable record! A pretty pickle we're in.
Bunerat. You know, my dear Vagret, I'm a plain speaker. No shilly-shallying about me. When I hunt the boar I charge right down on him. I speak plainly—anyone can know what's in my mind. I'm the son of a peasant, I am, and I make no bones about it. Well, it seems to me that your Bar—I know, of course, that you lead it with distinguished integrity and honesty—but it seems to me—how shall I put it?—that it's getting weak. Mouzon, you will remember, said the same thing when he was consulting the statistics.
Mouzon. It really is a very bad year.
Bunerat. You know it was a question of making ourselves an exception to the general rule—of getting our Court raised to a higher class. Well, Mauleon won't be raised from the third class to the second if the number of causes diminishes.
Mouzon. We should have to prove that we had been extremely busy.
Bunerat. And many of the cases you settled by arrangement might well have been the subject of proceedings.
Mouzon. Just reflect that this year we have awarded a hundred and eighteen years less imprisonment than we did last year!
Bunerat. And yet the Court has not been to blame. We safeguard the interests of society with the greatest vigilance.
Mouzon. But before we can punish you must give us prisoners.
Vagret. I have recently issued the strictest orders respecting the repression of smuggling offences, which are so common in these parts.
Bunerat. Well, that's something. You understand the point of view we take. It's a question of the safety of the public, my dear fellow.
Mouzon. We are falling behind other Courts of the same class. See, I've worked out the figures. [He takes a paper from his pocket-book and accidentally drops other papers, which La Bouzole picks up] I see—
La Bouzole. You are dropping your papers, Mouzon. Is this yours—this envelope? [He reads] "Monsieur Benoît, Officer of the Navy, Railway Hotel, Bordeaux." A nice scent—
Mouzon [flurried, taking the letter from La Bouzole] Yes—a letter belonging to a friend of mine.
La Bouzole. And this? The Irissary murder?
Mouzon. Ah, yes—it's—I was going to explain—it's—oh, the Irissary murder, yes—it's the translation Bunerat gave me of the article which appeared in the Eskual Herria to-day. It is extremely unpleasant. They say Mauleon is a sort of penal Court—something like a Biribi of the magistracy.
Vagret. But, after all, I can't invent a murderer for you just because the fellow is so pig-headed that he won't allow himself to be taken! Delorme has sent the description they gave us to the offices of all the magistrates.
Mouzon. Delorme! Shall I tell you what I think? Well, our colleague Delorme is making a mistake in sticking to the idea that the criminal is a tramp.
Vagret. But there is a witness.
Mouzon. The witness is lying, or he's mistaken.
Bunerat. A witness who saw gipsies leaving the victim's house that morning.
Mouzon. I repeat, the witness is lying, or he is mistaken.
Vagret. Why so?
Mouzon. I'm certain of it.
Bunerat. Why?
Mouzon. Because I'm certain the murderer wasn't a gipsy.
Vagret. But explain—
Mouzon. It's of no use, my dear friend. I know my duty to my colleague Delorme too well to insist. I've said too much already.
Vagret. Not at all.
Bunerat. By no means.
Mouzon. It was with the greatest delicacy that I warned our colleague Delorme—he was good enough to consult me and show me day by day the information which he had elicited—I warned him that he was on a false scent. He would listen to nothing; he persisted in searching for his tramp. Well, let him search! There are fifty thousand tramps in France. After all, I am probably wrong. Yet I should be surprised, for in the big towns in which I have served as magistrate, and in which I found myself confronted, not merely now and again, but every day, so to speak, with difficulties of this sort, I was able to acquire a certain practice in criminal cases and a certain degree of perspicacity.
Vagret. Obviously. As for Delorme, it is the first time he has had to deal with such a big crime.
Mouzon. In the case of that pretty woman from Toulouse, at Bordeaux, a case which made a good deal of stir at the time, it was I who forced the accused to make the confession that led her to the guillotine.
Bunerat [admiringly] Was it really?
Vagret. My dear friend, I ask you most seriously—and if I am insistent, it is because I have reasons for being so—between ourselves, I beg you to tell us on what you base your opinion.
Mouzon. Well, I don't want to hide my light under a bushel—I'll tell you.
Bunerat. We are listening.
Mouzon. Recall the facts. In a house isolated as are most of our Basque houses they find, one morning, an old man of eighty-seven murdered in his bed. Servants who slept in the adjacent building had heard nothing. The dogs did not bark. There was robbery, it is true, but the criminal did not confine himself to stealing hard cash; he stole family papers as well. Remember that point. And I will call your attention to another detail. It had rained on the previous evening. In the garden footprints were discovered which were immediately attributed to the murderer, who was so badly shod that the big toe of his right foot protruded from his boot. Monsieur Delorme proceeds along the trail; he obtains a piece of evidence that encourages him, and he declares that the murderer is a vagrant. I say this is a mistake. The murderer is not a vagrant. Now the house in which the crime was committed is an isolated house, and we know that within a radius of six to ten miles there was no tramp begging before the crime. So this tramp, if there was one, would have eaten and drunk on the scene of the crime, either before or after striking the blow. Now no traces have been discovered which permit us to suppose that he did anything of the kind. So—here is a man who arrives in a state of exhaustion. He begs; he is refused. He then hides himself, and, when it is night, he robs and assassinates. There is wine and bread and other food at hand; but he goes his way without touching them. Is this probable? No. Don't tell me that he was disturbed and so ran off; it is not true; their own witness declares that he saw him in the morning, a few yards from the house, whereas the crime was committed before midnight. If Monsieur Delorme, in addition to his distinguished qualities, had a little experience of cases of this kind, he would realize that empty bottles, dirty glasses, and scraps of food left on the table constitute, so to speak, the sign manual which the criminal vagrant leaves behind him on the scene of his crime.
Bunerat. True; I was familiar with that detail.
La Bouzole [under his breath to Ardeuil] That fellow would send a man to the scaffold for the sake of seeming to know something.
Vagret. Go on—go on.
Mouzon. Monsieur Delorme ought to have known this also: in the life of the vagrant there is one necessity which comes next to hunger and thirst—it is the need of footwear. This is so true that they have sometimes been known to make this need a pretext for demanding an appeal, because the journey to the Court of Appeal is generally made on foot, so that the administration is obliged to furnish shoes, and, as these are scarcely worn during the period of detention, they are in good condition when the man leaves prison. Now the supposed vagrant has a foot very nearly the same size as that of his victim. He has—you yourself have told us—boots which are in a very bad condition. Well, gentlemen, this badly shod vagrant does not take the good strong boots which are in the house! I will add but one word more. If the crime had been committed by a passing stranger—by a professional mendicant—will you tell me why this remarkable murderer follows the road which passes in front of the victim's house—a road on which he would find no resources—a road on which houses are met with only at intervals of two or three miles—when there is, close at hand, another road which runs through various villages and passes numbers of farmhouses, in which it is a tradition never to refuse hospitality to one of his kind? One word more. Why does this vagrant steal family papers which will betray him as the criminal the very first time he comes into contact with the police? No, gentlemen, the criminal is not a vagrant. If you want to find him, you must not look for a man wandering along the highway; you must look for him among those relatives or debtors or friends, who had an interest in his death.
Vagret. This is very true.
Bunerat. I call that admirably logical and extremely lucid.
Mouzon. Believe me, the matter is quite simple. If I were intrusted with the examination, I guarantee that within three days the criminal would be under lock and key.
Vagret. Well, my dear colleague, I have a piece of news for you. Monsieur Delorme, who is very unwell, has returned me his brief this afternoon, and it will be intrusted to you. Henceforth the preliminary examination of the Irissary murder will be in your hands.
Mouzon. I have only to say that I accept. My duty is to obey. I withdraw nothing of what I have said; within three days the murderer will be arrested.
Bunerat. Bravo!
Vagret. I thank you for that promise in the name of all concerned. I declare that you relieve us of a great anxiety. [To his wife] Listen, my dear. Monsieur Mouzon is undertaking the preliminary examination, and he promises us a result before three days are up.
Madame Vagret. We shall be grateful, Monsieur Mouzon.
Madame Bunerat. Oh, thank you!
Vagret. Bertha! Tell them to serve dinner—and to send up that old Irrouleguy wine! I will drink to your success, my dear fellow.
The Manservant. Dinner is served.
The gentlemen offer their arms to the ladies preparatory to going in to dinner.