“At last, overwhelmed by remorse, she confessed to a horrible crime. She had killed her husband, as Fualdes was murdered, by bleeding him; she had salted the body and packed it in pieces into old casks, exactly as if it have been pork; and for a long time she had taken a piece every morning and thrown it into the Loire. Her confessor consulted his superiors, and told her that it would be his duty to inform the public prosecutor. The woman awaited the action of the Law. The public prosecutor and the examining judge, on examining the cellar, found the husband’s head still in pickle in one of the casks.—‘Wretched woman,’ said the judge to the accused, ‘since you were so barbarous as to throw your husband’s body into the river, why did you not get rid of the head? Then there would have been no proof.’
“‘I often tried, monsieur,’ said she, ‘but it was too heavy.’”
“Well, and what became of the woman?” asked the two Parisians.
“She was sentenced and executed at Tours,” replied the lawyer; “but her repentance and piety had attracted interest in spite of her monstrous crime.”
“And do you suppose, said Bianchon, “that we know all the tragedies that are played out behind the curtain of private life that the public never lifts?—It seems to me that human justice is ill adapted to judge of crimes as between husband and wife. It has every right to intervene as the police; but in equity it knows nothing of the heart of the matter.”
“The victim has in many cases been for so long the tormentor,” said Madame de la Baudraye guilelessly, “that the crime would sometimes seem almost excusable if the accused could tell all.”
This reply, led up to by Bianchon and by the story which Clagny had told, left the two Parisians excessively puzzled as to Dinah’s position.
At bedtime council was held, one of those discussions which take place in the passages of old country-houses where the bachelors linger, candle in hand, for mysterious conversations.
Monsieur Gravier was now informed of the object in view during this entertaining evening which had brought Madame de la Baudraye’s innocence to light.
“But, after all,” said Lousteau, “our hostess’ serenity may indicate deep depravity instead of the most child-like innocence. The Public Prosecutor looks to me quite capable of suggesting that little La Baudraye should be put in pickle——”