| I. | MY COUNSEL, MAITRE A. AUBIN |
| II. | THE JUDGE, M. DE VALLES |
| III. | THE ADVOCATE-GENERAL, M. TROUARD RIOLLE |
| Sketches by Mme. Steinheil | |
Maître Aubin then fully explained the all-importance of the "stolen black gowns," and the part certain journalists had played in the Impasse Ronsin affair. His last words referred to my love for my Marthe.
"... I call to my side this pure and noble child; I want her close to me, stretching her arms appealingly towards you and defending her mother! These two unfortunate beings, how many tears they have already shed, how many tears they will still shed! Ah, gentlemen of the jury, give them the means to console one another and to forget together... whilst blessing your justice."
My counsel has ceased speaking. There is a moment of silence, and that silence drags me out of my torpor. I raised my head with a last effort, and I see hundreds of eager faces all turned towards the judge... M. de Valles is now speaking. I can hardly hear, but from a few words: "did the prisoner... on May 30th-31st, 1908... murder...." I realise that he is reading to the jury the question to which they will have to reply.
I do not understand, I do not know... the Judge rises, the jurors file out... I am sobbing, sobbing....
I am carried away from the dock. The cooler air in the guards' room refreshes me. I am made to drink some tea and all kinds of men stand before me speaking words of encouragement... I have been told that I laughed and chatted.... Everything is possible....
I remember that the guards handed me post-card after post-card of myself—begging me to sign them. I could hardly hold the pen, and the number of cards was endless. Poor soldiers; they had been good to me in their own simple way, and they said that they could get quite a deal of money for cards with my autograph.... How happy they all looked.
Everybody says I shall be acquitted in a moment. Doctor Socquet tells me: "When the jury give their verdict, I will listen and then rush to you. If you see me, that'll mean that you are acquitted; if I don't come, well, you will know. If things go wrong, I shall not have the courage to come."
Some one tells me that it is eleven o'clock. The jury has been away fifteen minutes already. Fifteen minutes, and they have not yet found that I am innocent. How is it possible?