All these misfortunes were traced back to Jacques, who was loaded with curses; and the people now thought of receiving his mother, the marchioness, with fierce hootings.
“There she is, there she is!” they said in the crowd, when she appeared in the station, leaning upon M. Folgat’s arm.
But they did not say another word, so great was their surprise at her appearance. Immediately two parties were formed. “She puts a bold face on it,” said some; while others declared, “She is quite sure of her son’s innocence.”
At all events, she had presence of mind enough to see what an impression she produced, and how well she had done to follow M. Folgat’s advice. It gave her additional strength. As she distinguished in the crowd some people whom she knew, she went up to them, and, smiling, said,—
“Well, you know what has happened to us. It is unheard of! Here is the liberty of a man like my son at the mercy of the first foolish notion that enters the head of a magistrate. I heard the news yesterday by telegram, and came down at once with this gentleman, a friend of ours, and one of the first lawyers of Paris.”
M. Folgat looked embarrassed: he would have liked more considerate words. Still he could not help supporting the marchioness in what she had said.
“These gentlemen of the court,” he said in measured tones, “will perhaps be sorry for what they have done.”
Fortunately a young man, whose whole livery consisted in a gold-laced cap, came up to them at this moment.
“M. de Chandore’s carriage is here,” he said.
“Very well,” replied the marchioness.