'God knows!' replied the old man, raising his eyes to heaven
For many hours the efforts of art seemed unavailing; consciousness was not restored to Monsieur Gorsay; and every moment respiration seemed on the point of ceasing. The physician, who on the first examination of the wounds did not think them mortal, began to lose hopes. The absolute insensibility which prevailed, and which he had at first attributed to loss of blood, and the feebleness of old age, made him now suspect that some vital organ had been reached by the poniard of the assassin. From time to time he bent over the wounded man, and listened with anxiety to the faint breathing which with difficulty made its way from his breast. At length some nervous contractions disturbed the sepulchral rigidity which the form and features of the patient had hitherto assumed; the respiration became stronger, and after a painful effort, the eye-lids half unclosed; he tried to raise himself, but had not sufficient strength; and he now lay for some time with mouth and eyes open, but evidently unable to see or speak.
'Curate,' said the physician, wiping his forehead, 'I think you may go to bed; I have now good hopes that we shall save him.'
For the first time d'Aubian now sought the eyes of Lucia, but he caught them not. On hearing the words of the physician she had fallen upon her knees, and seemed to be praying fervently.
It was now broad day-light. A group of peasants and workmen had collected before the house, whose eager conversation showed what an impression the news of the attempt made on the person of a man rich and universally esteemed had produced in the neighborhood. The excitement of this assemblage increased every moment, and broke forth in loud expressions of rage at the sight of Bonnemain, with hands tied behind his back, whom two sturdy peasants under the guidance of Piquet were dragging along with an air of triumph. Curses, menaces, threats of death, of which in such cases the populace, especially those of the south, are always prodigal, overwhelmed with frightful concert the presumed author of the assassination. From threats they were proceeding to stones, and from stones would probably have come to knives, when the mob was on a sudden roughly broken in upon by a carriage which drove up at a brisk trot, and from which leaped a personage clad in black, of grave demeanor and stern countenance.
'In the name of the law,' cried he in a tone of authority, 'let none of you raise a hand against this man.'
On recognizing the King's Attorney of the Court of Reole, the most violent desisted from their process of summary justice, and ceasing their vociferations, fell back some paces. After interrogating Piquet, the magistrate ordered the cords to be taken from the prisoner, whose mud-soiled clothes and bruised visage showed that he had only yielded after a desperate resistance. The king's attorney committed him to the care of the two volunteers who had effected his capture; he then entered the house for the purpose of holding the inquest, for which an express had been sent to him at day-break.
Thanks to the skilful succors which were incessantly employed, Monsieur Gorsay by degrees recovered strength and consciousness, but not the power of speech. In the mean time, and while waiting until the patient should be in a fitting condition to sustain an examination, the king's attorney employed himself in viewing the localities, and collecting with scrupulous attention every fact which might have a bearing upon the proceedings which were subsequently to be instituted. Of all the persons collected in the house, one only had declared that he had seen the assassin escape; this was Arthur d'Aubian, who found himself obliged to repeat his partially fabricated story, of which Piquet had already given some details.
'And so, Sir,' said the magistrate to him, 'the gardener was mistaken when he affirmed that you believed that you recognized in the man who scaled the wall the individual named Bonnemain?'