This protestation seemed as cold as it was constrained, and was unfavorably received.
'Innocence does not express itself thus,' said to themselves the greater part of the spectators; 'one does not submit passively to an unjust sentence, but rather expresses indignation at it.'
A submission so extraordinary strengthened instead of destroying the proofs. 'This man is guilty,' was the general impression; 'it is written in his countenance.'
Monsieur Gorsay, having finished his testimony, took his seat among the witnesses, overwhelmed on his passage with unequivocal proofs of the deep interest he had excited.
For a few moments the audience were occupied in private converse; but suddenly this confused murmur was changed to a death-like silence, on the president's saying, in a voice which was heard throughout all the assemblage, 'Introduce Madame Gorsay.'
An officer left the hall, and almost immediately returned, preceding the young wife, who at once became the object of general curiosity. With head erect, countenance glowing with a hectic flush, and the inspired air of a Sybil, she advanced with firm step to the edge of the stand on which the witnesses are placed when they give testimony. There she stopped, apparently deaf to the words which the president addressed to her. Her gaze, in which gleamed forth wildness, ran over the crowded audience beneath her, with unnatural boldness. Quickly catching the prisoners' seat, she fixed her eyes upon d'Aubian with an unutterable look of eagerness, of love, and of despair; then, with a gesture frenzied but not involuntary, Lucia stretched out her arms toward her lover, and with a thrilling voice, 'Arthur!' exclaimed she, 'I am here!'
This cry of succor, fierce as the roar of a wounded lioness, sent an electric shudder through the thousand veins of that crowded multitude, greedy of emotions, and now supplied with them beyond their most sanguine hopes. In the midst of the general confusion two men arose, the husband and the lover; the one trembling with rage, the other with pity.
'This is a trait of madness!' exclaimed Monsieur Gorsay; 'the evidence of a mad woman cannot be received.'
'Mad!' said Lucia, casting a look of defiance toward her husband; then turning to the president of the court, 'Question me, Sir; you will see whether I am mad or not; whether I cannot comprehend your questions, and answer them in a rational manner. Mad! I may soon become so; but at this moment I have full possession of my reason. I know perfectly well what I am doing, and what I am saying.'
'Compose yourself, Madame, I pray you; I am about to put some questions to you,' said the president, who thought he saw in the eyes of Lucia the threatening gleams of insanity, which contradiction might exasperate.