While the commissaire conversed with Bocquin in a low tone, we had time to observe the salle and its occupants. Except the witnesses, two or three of whom were respectable persons, they were the squalid-looking, ragged wretches of the quarter, listening with the greedy appetite of crime to any tale of bloodshed. The surgeon, who had just returned from visiting the wounded man, was waiting to be examined. To him now the commissaire directed his attention. It appeared that the wound was by no means of the dangerous character described, being merely through the fleshy portion of the neck, without injuring any part of importance. Having described circumstantially the extent of the injury and its probable cause, he replied to a question of the commissaire, that no entreaty could persuade the wounded man to give any explanation of the occurrence, nor mention the name of his adversary. Duchesne paid little apparent attention to the evidence, and before it was concluded, asked me if I were satisfied with my police experience, and disposed to move away.
Just at this moment there was a stir among the people round the door, and we heard the officers of the court cry out, “Room! make way there!” and the same moment General Duroc entered, accompanied by an aide-de-camp. He had been sent specially by the Emperor to ascertain what progress the investigation had made. His Majesty had determined to push the inquiry to its utmost limits. The general appeared dissatisfied with the little prospect there appeared of elucidation; and turning to Duchesne, remarked,—
“This is peculiarly ill-timed just now, as negotiations are pending with Russia, and the prince's family are about the person of the Czar.”
“But as the wound would seem of little consequence, in a few days perhaps the whole thing may blow over,” said Duchesne.
“It is for that very reason,” replied Duroc, earnestly, “that we are pressed for time. The object is to mark the sentiments of his Majesty now. Should the prince be once pronounced out of danger, it will be too late for sympathy.”
“Oh! I perceive,” said Duchesne, smiling; “your observation is most just. If my friend here, however, cannot put you on the track, I fear you have little to hope for elsewhere.”
“I am aware of that; and Monsieur Cauchois knows the great reliance his Majesty reposes in his skill and activity.”
Monsieur Cauchois, the commissaire, bowed with a most respectful air at the compliment, probably of all others the highest that could be paid him.
“A brilliant soirée we had last evening, Duchesne,” said the general. “I hope this unhappy affair will not close that house at present; you are aware the prince is the suitor of mademoiselle?”
“I only suspected as much,” said the chevalier, with a peculiar smile; “it was my first evening there.”