“The marks of my shoes!” broke in Trumence again; and sitting down, and raising his legs, he said to the magistrate,—
“Just look at my shoes, and you will see there is no lack of iron nails!”
But there was no need for such evidence; and he was told,—
“Never mind that! We believe you.”
“And you, my good girl,” said M. Daubigeon again, “can you tell us, if, after these occurrences, Count Claudieuse had any explanation with your mistress?”
“No, I do not know. Only I saw that the count and the countess were no longer as they used to be with each other.”
That was all she knew. She was asked to sign her deposition; and then M. Daubigeon told her she might go.
Then, turning to Trumence, he said,—
“You will be taken to jail now. But you are an honest man, and you need not give yourself any trouble. Go now.”
The magistrate and the commonwealth attorney remained alone now, since, of course, a clerk counts for nothing.