“You can have him come here.”
“So be it,” said Mr. Vallerois. “The means are dear, but effective surely. I will present the proposal in my own name, so that if by any chance I fail, you will not be embarrassed. The offer on your part might seem to be an admission of the crime.”
“Thank you.”
They separated. The lawyer returned to the court-room, where the councillors were growing impatient, and began his argument with his customary lucidity. Listening to the ordered closeness of his reasoning, no one would have suspected that anguish tortured him. But when he sat down, this old fighter who was never tired, he was conscious at last of an extreme fatigue, heavy as the mysterious blows of age.
After the argument in rebuttal and his brief reply, he regained his liberty at last. He looked at his watch: it was half-past three. In this interval of three hours the fate of his son had been decided. He went up again to the prosecutor’s office, where Mr. Vallerois was waiting for him. At a glance he could see that that officer’s mission had failed.
“Mr. Frasne came here,” explained the latter. “You were right. He wants revenge.”
“He refused?”
“Absolutely. He prefers his revenge to his money. In vain I pressed him in every way in my power. I spoke of the scandal, which would react against his wife; spoke even of his lack of evidence. He replied that if I did not begin a public action, he would bring a civil suit before the examining magistrate. He has the right, and his resolution is unbreakable.”
“And if I should try myself to move him? Our relations were pleasant.”
“Your visit would be useless, painful; perhaps even compromising. I don’t advise you that way at all. I spoke to him of your family, of yourself: He replied: ‘His son has broken my heart. So much the worse if the innocent pay for the guilty.’”