Naturally a dozen innocent men were accused of uttering this incendiary exclamation, while Gudel, in a quiet livery, was not interfered with. Irène de Salves never moved her eyes from Fanfar. Finally, quiet was restored.
"Mr. President," said Fanfar, "my father fell in the French frontier, fighting against the Cossacks and the emigrés. There are no assassins in our family!"
From this moment the trial went on rapidly. The sentence was a foregone conclusion.
Robeccal was condemned to death. Fanfar, under the name of Jacques Fougère, was sentenced to the galleys for life.
But just as the sentenced was pronounced, a singular event occurred. Fanfar rose and opened his lips as if to speak, extended his arm, and fell full length on the floor. Cries of astonishment arose from the crowd.
"He has killed himself!" cried some.
"He has been poisoned!" said others.
Irène hastened to find Gudel. She had seen him near the door, but he had vanished. The crowd departed, saying to each other, sadly:
"He is dead!"
Robeccal was carried off more dead than alive. His sentence had frightened him. Perhaps he had not unbounded confidence in the honest people who had employed him.