The recollection of the rouleau of gold, offered to the bailiffs by the young girl, occurred to Rodolph.
"Of what is she then accused?"
"She lies under a charge of child-murder."
"She! she! Oh, her poor father!"
"From what you have told me, sir, I imagine that, under the miserable circumstances in which this artisan is, this fresh blow will be terrible for him. Unfortunately, I must carry out the full instructions with which I am charged."
"But it is at present only an accusation?" asked Rodolph. "Proofs, no doubt, are still wanting?"
"I cannot tell you more on that point. Justice has been informed of this crime, or rather the presumptive crime, by the statement of an individual most respectable in every particular, Louise Morel's master."
"Jacques Ferrand, the notary?" said Rodolph, with indignation.
"Yes, sir—"
"M. Jacques Ferrand is a wretch, sir!"