On Monday, November 1, I was told that I should be sent for the next day at 2 P.M. and taken to the Palace of Justice. Several of the Sisters remained a long time in my cell. Pastor Arboux called and prayed with me. The old chaplain, M. Doumergue, played the organ in the chapel, then he came to my cell and gave me his blessing.... I could not sleep during the night, and poor Juliette, with her usual kindness, remained, hour after hour, seated near my bed, talking to me, cheering me, comforting me....
The next morning—Tuesday, November 2—Sister Léonide brought me my hat, cloak and gloves; and the Sisters came once more to say that they had prayed for me and to ask me to trust in the Almighty: I would be acquitted, they all knew it; my innocence would be victoriously revealed. They could hardly speak, and I was so moved that words failed me when I tried to thank them all....
A clock struck two, I had been ready since noon. No one came. Three o'clock, four, five, six, eight, ten o'clock! Still no one.... Then Sister Léonide entered my cell and said: "You will not go to-day; they will come and fetch you to-morrow at five in the morning, my poor child!"
I had been walking up and down my cell for over ten hours! Sister Léonide compelled me to eat a little. I went to bed, assisted by Juliette, and I fell asleep and dreamed of Marthe.
Sister Léonide awoke me at 4 A.M., for, at five, I would be sent for.... And my trial was to begin at noon! I felt very tired and sleepy. Juliette kissed me good-bye. Sister Léonide asked me to remember Saint-Lazare—and her—sometimes, and she too gave me a blessing. Then, after a look round the cell where I had been imprisoned for nearly a year, and a last hand-shake with Juliette, I walked out into the "Boulevard of the Cells" and followed Sister Léonide. That the prisoners might not know of my departure, the gong was not rung. I walked as in a trance. But all the time, I thought of my arrival at Saint-Lazare a year before! A year!... I had spent a year within the walls of a prison!...
It was cold, very cold, and the silence was awe-inspiring. I thanked Sister Léonide for all that she had done for me, but there must have been more gratitude in my eyes than in my words.... Then, I was led to a carriage and driven to the Dépôt before I fully realised that I had left Saint-Lazare—probably for ever!
On the way, I looked at Paris, that vast city which for me had lost its meaning.... I counted the lamp-posts we passed, watched the few people I saw, threw a glance at the Seine, the waters of which seemed to be made of molten lead, cold and motionless. A fine drizzle struck my face through my mourning veil as I stepped out of the carriage and entered the Dépôt....
There, the Sister Superior with the beautiful and pathetic face was awaiting me. She begged me to lie down on the bed in the cell, and I gladly obeyed, but at 8.30 A.M., I felt so restless that I rose and paced my cage. The aged Sister of Mercy came, and I heard that hundreds of poor wretches had spent the night outside the Palace of Justice in order to sell their "seats" to persons anxious to be present at my trial. I was told afterwards that such "seats" fetched from twenty-five to one hundred francs (£1 to £4), and that a few morbid amateurs of sensational spectacles paid as much as £10 and even £15 for the privilege of standing at the back of the court in the small and overcrowded "public" enclosure, to watch a woman struggling to prove her innocence.
I was asked to be "quite ready" by 11 A.M. I was ready in every way, except mentally, for as the hour drew near when I would appear before my judges, I felt my strength ebb from me. It all seemed so useless, so utterly absurd, to be innocent and yet to have to prove one's innocence, to fight for one's life!...
Some one—the Director at the Dépôt perhaps—told me I should need all the presence of mind, all the will and all the power of arguing at my command, and I heard to my unspeakable disgust that recently—yes, before my trial—the Matin had published in extenso the text of the Indictment against me!