Mouzon. Here is an acknowledgment written by your husband. It is in his handwriting?
Yanetta. Yes, but I didn't know—
Mouzon. You didn't know of the existence of this debt? That tends to confirm what I know already—your husband went to Irissary.
Yanetta. No, sir; he tells me everything he does.
Mouzon. But you see very well that he doesn't, since you didn't know of the existence of this debt. He went to Irissary. Don't you believe me?
Yanetta. Yes, Monsieur, but he didn't kill a man for money; it's a lie, a lie, a lie!
Mouzon. It's a lie! Now how am I to know that? Your husband begins by denying everything, blindly, and then he takes up two methods of defence in succession. You yourself begin by a piece of false evidence. All this, I tell you again, will do for the man.
Yanetta. I don't know about that, but what I do tell you again is that he didn't kill a man for money.
Mouzon. Then what did he kill him for? Perhaps after all he isn't as guilty as I supposed just now. Perhaps he acted without premeditation. This is what might have happened. Etchepare, a little the worse for drink, goes to Goyetche in order to ask him once more to wait for the payment of this debt. There is a dispute between the two men; old Goyetche was still a strong man; there may have been provocation on his part, and there may have been a struggle, with the tragic result you know of. In that case your husband's position is entirely different—he is no longer a criminal premeditating a crime; and the sentence pronounced against him may be quite a light one. So you see, my good woman, how greatly it is in your interest to obtain a complete confession from him. If he persists in his denials, I am afraid the jury will be extremely severe upon him. There is no doubt that he killed Goyetche; but under what conditions did he kill him? Everything depends on that. By persistently trying to pass for a totally innocent man he risks being thought more guilty than he is. Do you understand?
Yanetta. Yes, Monsieur.