"You may go," said the judge, cutting the disquisition of M. Francois short; the valet retired.
During this colloquy, Guespin had little by little come to himself. The judge of instruction, Plantat, and the mayor narrowly watched the play of his countenance, which he had not the coolness to compose, while the doctor held his pulse and counted its beating.
"Remorse, and fear of punishment," muttered the mayor.
"Innocence, and the impossibility of proving it," responded Plantat in a low tone.
M. Domini heard both these exclamations, but did not appear to take notice of them. His opinion was not formed, and he did not wish that anyone should be able to foretell, by any word of his, what it would be.
"Are you better, my friend?" asked Dr. Gendron, of Guespin.
The poor fellow made an affirmative sign. Then, having looked around with the anxious glance of a man who calculates a precipice over which he has fallen, he passed his hand across his eyes and stammered:
"Something to drink!"
A glass of water was brought, and he drank it at a draught, with an expression of intense satisfaction. Then he got upon his feet.
"Are you now in a fit state to answer me?" asked the judge.