There was much truth in this; but there are certain truths which we are not overfond of hearing.
“My simplicity has nothing to do with the matter,” said M. Magloire. “I affirm and maintain that a man who has been for five years the lover of a woman must have some proof of it.”
“Well, there you are mistaken, master,” said the physician, arranging his spectacles with an air of self-conceit, which, under other circumstances, would have been irresistibly ludicrous.
“When women determine to be prudent and suspicious,” remarked M. de Chandore, “they never are so by halves.”
“It is evident, besides,” added M. Folgat, “that the Countess Claudieuse would never have determined upon so bold a crime, if she had not been quite sure, that after the burning of her letters, no proof could be brought against her.”
“That is it!” cried the doctor.
M. Magloire did not conceal his impatience. He said dryly,—
“Unfortunately, gentlemen, it does not depend on you to acquit or condemn M. de Boiscoran. I am not here to convince you, or to be convinced: I came to discuss with M. de Boiscoran’s friends our line of conduct, and the basis of our defence.”
And M. Magloire was evidently right in this estimate of his duty. He went and leaned against the mantelpiece; and, when the others had taken their seats around him, he began,—
“In the first place, I will admit the allegations made by M. de Boiscoran. He is innocent. He has been the lover of Countess Claudieuse; but he has no proof. This being granted, what is to be done? Shall I advise him to send for the magistrate, and to confess it all?”