“You are now, I hope, satisfied with the reasons of our presence, and that nothing but considerations of your interest can have influenced our visit,” said the avocat, with calmness. “Such being the case, sit down here, and relate all you can of your life since your leaving the Polytechnique. Be brief, too, for it is now three o'clock; the court opens at ten, your case will be called the second, and I must at least have three hours of sleep.”
The general pointed to a seat beside him; I sat down, and without any delay proceeded to give a rapid account of all my adventures and proceedings to the hour we were then assembled, only omitting all mention of Mademoiselle de Meudon's name, and such allusions to De Beauvais as might lead to his crimination.
The advocate wrote down, as rapidly as I spoke them, the principal details of my history, and when I had concluded, perused the notes he had taken with a quick eye.
“This will never do,” said he, with more impatience in his manner than I had yet witnessed. “Here are a mass of circumstances all unexplained, and all suspicious. It is now entirely a question of the feeling of the court. The charges, if pressed, must lead to a conviction. Your innocence, sir, may satisfy—indeed, it has satisfied—General d'Auvergne, who else had not been here this night; but the proofs are not before us.”
He paused for a moment, and then continued in a lower tone, addressing himself directly to the general: “We must entreat a delay; a day—two days, certainly—will establish the proofs against George and his accomplices; they will be condemned and executed at once. It is most likely that the court will not recur to capital punishment again. The example being made, any further demonstration will be needless. I see you put little faith in this manoeuvre; but, trust me, I know the temper of the tribunal. Besides, the political stroke has already succeeded. Bonaparte has conquered all his enemies; his next step will be to profit by the victory.” These words were riddles to me at the time, though the day soon came when their meaning was palpable. “Yes, two days will do it,” said he, confidently raising his voice as he spoke; “and then, whether there be a hussar the more or one the less in France, will little trouble the current of events.”
“Then how to obtain the time,—that is the question,” said the general.
“Oh, we shall try something. There can always be a witness to be called; some evidence all-essential not forthcoming; some necessary proof not quite unravelled. What if we summoned this same Abbé? The court will make proclamation for him. D'Ervan is the name?”
“Yes; but if by so doing he may be involved—”
“Fear nothing on that score; he'll never turn up, believe me. We can affect to show that his evidence is all-important. Yes, we'll make the Abbé, d'Ervan our first witness. Where shall we say he resides? Rouen, I suppose, will do; yes, Rouen.” And so, without waiting for a reply, he continued to write. “By this, you perceive,” he remarked, “we shall disconcert their plans. They are evidently keeping this abbe up for some greater occasion; they have a case against himself, perhaps, in which the proofs are not yet sufficient for conviction. We 'll trouble their game, and they may be glad to compromise with us.”
The general looked as much confounded as myself at these schemes of the lawyer, but we both were silent.