“Does he live in Paris?”
“No, monsieur: he lives at Beaucaire with my sister, who married one of the engineers of the Southern Canal.”
It was in broken tones that Prosper answered these last questions. There are moments in the life of a man when home memories encourage and console him; there are also moments when he would be thankful to be without a single tie, and bitterly regrets that he is not alone in the world.
M. Patrigent observed the prisoner’s emotion, when he spoke of his parents.
“What is your father’s calling?” he continued.
“He was formerly superintendent of the bridges and canals; then he was employed on the Southern Canal, with my brother-in-law; now he has retired from business.”
There was a moment’s silence. The judge had turned his chair around, so that, although his head was apparently averted, he had a good view of the workings of Prosper’s face.
“Well,” he said, abruptly, “you are accused of having robbed M. Fauvel of three hundred and fifty thousand francs.”
During the last twenty-four hours the wretched young man had had time to familiarize himself with the terrible idea of this accusation; and yet, uttered as it was in this formal, brief tone, it seemed to strike him with a horror which rendered him incapable of opening his lips.
“What have you to answer?” asked the judge.