“Who, better than you, can explain how things happened?”
Saniel, who had recovered from his first feeling of surprise, did not flinch. Evidently she spoke with entire honesty, suspecting nothing, and it would be folly to look for more than she said.
“But I cannot present myself before a judge in such away,” he said. “It is he who sends for those he wants to see.”
“Why can you not go to his court, since you know things which will throw light upon it?”
“Is it truly easy to go before this court? In going before it, I make myself the defender of your brother.”
“That is exactly what I ask of you.”
“And in presenting myself as his defender, I take away the weight of my deposition, which would have more authority if it were that of a simple witness.”
“But when will you be asked for this deposition? Think of Florentin’s sufferings during this time, of mamma’s, and of mine. He may lose his head; he may kill himself. His spirit is not strong, nor is mamma’s. How will they bear all that the newspapers will publish?”
Saniel hesitated a moment.
“Well, I will go,” he said. “Not this evening, it is too late, but tomorrow.”