"About three weeks before the crime, I noticed in the Impasse Ronsin, at noon, or 1 P.M., three men and a woman near the wall of the Steinheils' house; they were talking together.... The woman rang at the gate. Some one came and spoke to her for a few moments. Meanwhile, the three men walked a little away from the gate, but remained on that side of the Impasse." After describing the four persons (the three men wore "black felt artists' hats," and the "woman wore a shawl in the Italian style"), M. Rousseau declared that he "saw those people again several times, near the gate of my house," and that he was struck by "their hesitating attitude."
A "M. Godefroy, also employed at the printing works... remembered having seen those individuals in the Impasse Ronsin...."
I was also surprised to find that in this colossal dossier many persons gave evidence who had only met me once or twice, whilst close friends whom I had known for years were not questioned about me. Thus the dossier contained no mention of Bonnat or Massenet, of M. Viollet-le-Duc, of M. Delalande—French Consul-General in Naples and recently in London—who had known me from the days when I was only fourteen; of M. Sadi-Carnot, son of the late President; of M. Duteil d'Ozanne, Chief of the Secretariat of the "Legion of Honour"; and many other prominent men. Not one of the generals, admirals, statesmen, politicians, and important officials who knew me well, were consulted, nor, of course, President Tassard, President Petit, or any of the numberless magistrates with whom, and with whose wives, I was on terms of close friendship.
Whilst working on the dossier I became less despondent, and regained some of the strength I had lost. Reading those documents aroused not only my indignation, but also my will. I would not be condemned; I would fight the Prosecution and win; I would say all I knew, happen what might.... But my counsel begged me to let him conduct my defence, and warned me, now that my trial was approaching, as he had warned me before the Instruction. "If you attack any one, you are lost," he would say; "be calm, answer questions, and let me do everything at your trial."
When would that trial take place? When should I be free? I kept asking those two questions of Maître Aubin, who, alas! could give me no definite answer.
The summer had passed; the autumn had come. Through the iron bars of my window I saw the leaves fall one by one from the trees in the yard, and the prison and the sky were again grey and dreary, as on that November day, a year before, when I awoke to find myself for the first time in a prison cell. I knew every one in the prison now, and every stone. I knew every cat and many of the pigeons, which I had named.
Marthe came three times a week. The Sisters were more attentive and devoted than ever. Pastor Arboux and the Catholic Chaplain visited me as regularly as ever, and Juliette did her utmost to make my life more bearable; but the end of a journey is always the most trying part to body and mind, and then I was not sure, in spite of my absolute innocence, that the end of my terrible journey was at hand. I had been treated with such injustice, and, as I knew only too well, opinion was so much against me, that at times I imagined that I should be found guilty. But I argued with Sister Léonide, or Juliette, or... myself, and Hope sprang eternal in my frozen heart.
| Photo by Claude Harris, London |
| OBJECTS I USED IN PRISON |
| Slippers made by myself. |
| Penny looking-glass—only kind allowed by the prison authorities. |
| Blunt knife. Salt Cellar. Jug. Basin. |
| Coffee Strainer—made by myself with fire-wood sticks, some linen and wire taken from my hat. |
| Breadbasket—made by myself with paper. |