C.C.—Certainly. He had on a pair of light gray trousers, a dark coat, and a large straw hat.
At a sign from the president, and in the midst of the most profound silence, the ushers remove the red cloth from the table.
P.—(Pointing at the clothes of the accused.) Does the costume which you describe correspond with those cloths?
C.C.—Of course; for they are the same.
P.—Then you must have recognized the murderer.
C.C.—The fire was so large at that time, that it was as bright as daylight. I recognized M. Jacques de Boiscoran.
There was, probably, in the whole vast audience assembled under that roof, not a heart that was not seized with unspeakable anguish when these crushing words were uttered.
We were so fully prepared for them, that we could watch the accused closely.
Not a muscle in his face seemed to move. His counsel showed as little any signs of surprise or emotion.
Like ourselves, the president also, and the prosecuting attorney, had been watching the accused and his counsel. Did they expect a protest, an answer, any thing at all? Perhaps they did.