“Alas! I know nothing about it. I was upstairs mending my son’s clothes, when I heard a dispute.”
“And after that?”
“Of course I came down, and I saw those three men that are lying there picking a quarrel with the young man you have arrested; the poor innocent! For he is innocent, as truly as I am an honest woman. If my son Polyte had been here he would have separated them; but I, a poor widow, what could I do! I cried ‘Police!’ with all my might.”
After giving this testimony she resumed her seat, thinking she had said enough. But Gevrol rudely ordered her to stand up again. “Oh! we have not done,” said he. “I wish for other particulars.”
“What particulars, dear Monsieur Gevrol, since I saw nothing?”
Anger crimsoned the inspector’s ears. “What would you say, old woman, if I arrested you?”
“It would be a great piece of injustice.”
“Nevertheless, it is what will happen if you persist in remaining silent. I have an idea that a fortnight in Saint Lazare would untie your tongue.”
These words produced the effect of an electric shock on the Widow Chupin. She suddenly ceased her hypocritical lamentations, rose, placed her hands defiantly on her hips, and poured forth a torrent of invective upon Gevrol and his agents, accusing them of persecuting her family ever since they had previously arrested her son, a good-for-nothing fellow. Finally, she swore that she was not afraid of prison, and would be only too glad to end her days in jail beyond the reach of want.
At first the General tried to impose silence upon the terrible termagant: but he soon discovered that he was powerless; besides, all his subordinates were laughing. Accordingly he turned his back upon her, and, advancing toward the murderer, he said: “You, at least, will not refuse an explanation.”