Pastor Arboux kept his promise, in a sublime manner. He gave me the courage to live, and reconciled me to this world. During the endless year of mental and physical agony, he came to see me twice a week, every Thursday and every Sunday, and remained each time at least one hour. He came even when he was ill or overwhelmed with work. During the summer of 1909, he took a well-earned three weeks' holiday, but even then, he came to Paris to give me the consolation which he knew I so sorely needed.
M. Arboux asked me: "What sort of women are those two in your cell?"
"It is terrible for me to be with them; they quarrel constantly, and they keep asking me questions. I refuse to speak to them, but sometimes, they are so pressing that I reply, but I am so ill, so tired, so miserable...."
"Try not to reply at all," said M. Arboux. "I will talk to the Director."
In spite of the pastor's kind words, I spent the night weeping and lamenting. I, Marguerite Steinheil-Japy, to be accused of murder, accused of having strangled my husband and my mother! How could such a monstrous charge have been brought against me! It was maddening....
The next day, Saturday, November 26th—no one came to see me, and the day seemed endless.
Another sleepless night followed, and then another day began, a Sunday! Seated on my bed, I wept bitterly. The two women again asked me questions, but during the afternoon, Sister Léonide entered and said to me: "Take your things. You are going into another cell." Later, in January, when the Matin published statements made by Ghirelli and Rosselli concerning a "full confession" which I was supposed to have made in their cell, the Director of the Saint-Lazare prison, sent a report to Judge André, in which he says, concerning my change of cell:
"... That Mme. Steinheil was taken from cell No. 15, and placed in cell No. 11.... On Sunday November 29th, 1908, in the afternoon, because of a paragraph in the Matin of November 28th, which gave the number of Mme. Steinheil's cell and the names of her companions. The indiscretion, it appears from the newspapers, was made by Maître Camille Dreyfus, counsel of the prisoner called Rosselli."
(Dossier Cote 3021)
Sœur Léonide led me to a cell much larger and lighter than the other, but in the same dirty dilapidated state. It contained seven beds, and had two windows, not only heavily barred, but also fitted with iron trellis-work. The windows were of ground glass, so that it was impossible to see outside, except when they were open. One had to listen to the rain and to "guess" if the sun shone, when they were shut.