“I am persuaded Cocoleu will speak. But will he speak in time? That is the question. Ah, if we had but a month’s time, I should say Jacques is safe. But our hours are counted, you know. The court will be held next week. I am told the presiding judge has already arrived, and M. Gransiere has engaged rooms at the hotel. What do you mean to do if nothing new occurs in the meantime?”
“M. Magloire and I will obstinately adhere to our plan of defence.”
“And if Count Claudieuse keeps his promise, and declares that he recognized Jacques in the act of firing at him?”
“We shall say he is mistaken.”
“And Jacques will be condemned.”
“Well,” said the young advocate.
And lowering his voice, as if he did not wish to be overheard, he added,—
“Only the sentence will not be a fatal sentence. Ah, do not interrupt me, doctor, and upon your life, upon Jacques’s life, do not say a word of what I am going to tell you. A suspicion which should cross M. Galpin’s mind would destroy my last hope; for it would give him an opportunity of correcting a blunder which he has committed, and which justifies me in saying to you, ‘Even if the count should give evidence, even if sentence should be passed, nothing would be lost yet.’”
He had become animated; and his accent and his gestures made you feel that he was sure of himself.
“No,” he repeated, “nothing would be lost; and then we should have time before us, while waiting for a second trial, to hunt up our witnesses, and to force Cocoleu to tell the truth. Let the count say what he chooses, I like it all the better: I shall thus be relieved of my last scruples. It seemed to me odious to betray the countess, because I thought the most cruelly punished would be the count. But, if the count attacks us, we are on the defence; and public opinion will be on our side. More than that, they will admire us for having sacrificed our honor to a woman’s honor, and for having allowed ourselves to be condemned rather than to give up the name of her who has given herself to us.”