Three months had elapsed, and the baron had resumed his ordinary life, when one evening, in a salon in the faubourg Saint-Honoré, a gentleman remarked, in the course of conversation, that it was astonishing the number of crimes one daily heard of. And he related the last murder that the daily paper had brought under his eyes.
Said the baron: “Why do you make such an assertion? Never were crimes so rare as to-day; manners and customs are so much softened, we can almost say there are no longer any criminals. None can be found in the higher class of society; and when we speak of the aristocracy, it means the entire nation. Indeed, to speak the truth, I believe very little in the wonderful crimes with which the daily journals fill their columns when there is a dearth of political news.”
“You are very incredulous, M. le Baron,” replied the Comte de Sartigny. “Probably it is from kindness to the editors that the police seek the criminals, and the courts judge them.”
“You say,” answered the baron, “that the police seek the criminals. It is false, M. le Comte. In the first place, only one is guilty, and the police are not hunting him up; he is already found, and he has no accomplice. He has been found, I tell you, he has been found; and the man has no accomplice. Perhaps I don't know it. Ha! ha!”
While the baron, pale as death, [pg 703] spoke these words, with terror imprinted on his face, the count looked steadily at him, and said:
“You say that I have spoken falsely, M. le Baron? Will you repeat that remark? I think those were your words, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
“I only say one thing,” replied the baron, “which is, that the criminal has been found and arrested.”
“But a moment ago you denied the reality of the crime.”
“I only say one thing, M. le Comte: that there is no doubt about the name of the assassin.”
The master of the house took the count by the arm, and led him to the recess of a window....