CHAPTER XVI.
THE ACCUSED.
Since morning Bruno had remained at home, learning the news as best he could from different sources, but not daring to go near Catherine for fear of losing his self-possession.
In his heart he felt that Catherine was implicated. The proposition she had made him in the walnut grove he was certain Firmin, a little later, had accepted. He did not know that the valet was wounded, but thus far free from the charge. At length, a young man from Quarré told him the truth.
“If it is not Firmin, then who is it?” thought he, with the rest. Presently the most harrowing news began to come to him from different persons. Suspicion had now fallen upon Catherine, and the accusations were multiplying against her. Finally, old Mathieu, in passing Mother Mathurine’s cottage, shouted out: “It’s a pretty sure thing now against Catherine. They will guillotine her fast enough.”
Bruno shuddered.
The investigation, then, had so far advanced that the method of punishment was under discussion. Never until this day had the poor fellow measured the greatness of his passion. An overmastering fear came upon him. He could scarcely stand on account of weakness. The blood rushed madly to his head. Catherine—Catherine accused of murder! The idea that perhaps she was culpable was a torture to him. He ran into his own chamber to prevent Mother Mathurine from observing his condition of mind. Despairing and excited, he threw himself upon the bed and cried aloud. He was nearly crazed with grief.
“What shall I do?” he wailed. “How can I save her? While I am living she must not go to prison.”
Yes, but how could he prevent it? Could he fight against the world? Why not carry her into the dense forest surrounding the town, and there conceal her? But no, that was not practical. Intuition made him aware that there was no time to be lost. But what could he do? His mental anguish was lacerating. Suddenly a noise arrested his ear.
“They cannot enter now,” he exclaimed, springing to the door. But it was only a cowherd—that was all. Words would fail to describe the suffering of the motionless Bruno.