The most profound silence prevailed while Monsieur Gorsay replied to the questions of form which the presiding judge of the assizes put to him. This formality being finished, the old man sat down in front of the bench and turned toward the jury; then in a deep voice, the faltering tones of which seemed the effect of the regret which a generous mind feels at being compelled to turn accuser, he repeated word for word the declaration which he had made on the day of the attempted assassination. This recital stated in substance, that being asleep at the moment when he received the first blow, Monsieur Gorsay, before losing entirely his consciousness, had recognized the features of the murderer, who had lit a taper to enable him to force the secretary.
'Look at the accused,' said the president to the witness; 'are you quite sure that he whom you recognized was Arthur d'Aubian?'
The old man turned toward the prisoner, and cast upon the lover of Lucia a look in which triumph was admirably veiled by the semblance of pity. 'It was he indeed!' said he, with a sigh; 'in vain do I wish not to recognize him.'
A general and prolonged sensation throughout the crowded audience followed this declaration. Arthur alone remained apparently unmoved, and contented himself with a scornful smile.
'Monsieur President,' said one of the jurors, when silence was reestablished, 'I should like the witness to tell us whether prior to this attempt there was any subject of enmity between the accused and himself.'
This question excited a lively interest, particularly among the females, who though constrained to believe in the guilt of Arthur, could not admit that a robbery was the end in view. The prisoner himself slightly colored, and seemed to experience a secret disquietude. Monsieur Gorsay, however, was prepared for every interrogatory, and this one gave him neither surprise nor trouble.
'Monsieur d'Aubian and myself,' replied he, 'have been for a long time neighbors; and our intercourse has always been that of confidence, of cordiality, and I may say of friendship; and on my part at least, spite of the blood that has been spilt, these sentiments are not yet annihilated. I feel this in the deep grief I have experienced these two months past; and I assure you that this unhappy event has caused me more anguish of mind than bodily suffering.'
The altered voice and sad expression of countenance of the old man excited in the audience a new murmur of pity.
'So then,' continued the president, 'you know of no cause to which the attempt, of which you have been the victim, may be attributed?'
'The cause,' replied Monsieur Gorsay, in a melancholy tone, 'is in my opinion that deplorable passion for play, which has already ruined so many young men worthy of a better fate. Monsieur d'Aubian played deeply and unsuccessfully: my advice could not withdraw him from this abyss, which every day became deeper. In a moment of despair he must have thought of the money which he had seen me receive some time before. Why did not the unfortunate man ask me for it, instead of seeking to gain possession of it in such a deplorable manner? If he had only placed confidence in me; if he had considered that the purse of an old friend was at his service; this fatal event could never have happened, and we should not have been both here; I in despair at being his accuser, and he——'