“He said he had behaved very ill.”
“And you tried to soften your uncle?”
“I thought he was very desolate, and that it was a pity some one should not come.”
“Did your husband approve of this attempt of yours?”
She hesitated, and then said that her husband feared it might excite M. de Cadanet.
“Do you remember the 12th of August, 188-?”
“Yes.”
“Give an account of what happened.”
She lifted her face, and looked imploringly round the court. Meeting only the gaze of countless eyes riveted upon hers, she looked on the floor again quickly, locking her hands together. Her voice trembled so exceedingly that the writers taking down the evidence could scarcely hear, and more than once she stopped altogether, and Maître Barraud had to ask a question or two to induce her to go on. But the gist of the evidence was to the effect that M. de Cadanet was very ill, and she watched anxiously for an opportunity to send for a priest. He was desirous to speak alone to her husband; she hoped when that interview was over to succeed in persuading him.
“Where were you during the interview?”