'Monsieur President, I object to this examination;' repeated Monsieur Gorsay, in a half-choked voice; 'I shall prove that for some time past the reason of my unhappy wife has been disturbed. Monsieur Mallet, her physician, and one of the witnesses here present, if he is willing to tell the truth, can testify to this fact.'
'Monsieur Mallet,' said the president, 'will you approach and judge for yourself whether Madame is in a fit condition to undergo an examination?'
Lucia smiled on the physician as he ascended the steps of the stand, and stretched out her hand to him when he drew near, with a gesture full of confidence. The possessor of a secret discovered by his penetration, the physician would have suffered Arthur to have been condemned, rather than have ruined a woman for whom he had long felt an attachment almost paternal; but he did not carry his chivalric refinement so far as to be willing to save her in spite of herself, by keeping his mouth closed. 'A man's life is at stake,' thought he; 'if she loves him well enough to sacrifice her happiness for him, what right have I to prevent her?'
He took the arm of the young woman, to feel her pulse; a superfluous formality, for it could teach him nothing which he knew not already. 'Madame has a high fever,' said he, in the midst of silence so profound that it seemed as if every breath was suspended; 'for two months this has been her habitual state. One of the features of this malady, which the efforts of art have not yet been able to subdue, is an irregular exacerbation, which the slightest emotion increases; but between this irritation of the nervous system and a disturbance of the mental faculties, there is, thank God! a wide difference. Madame Gorsay, as she herself has just affirmed, is in full possession of her reason; and I am convinced that she will understand perfectly well the questions that may be put to her, and also the import of her own answers.'
The audience received this declaration of the physician with a murmur of satisfaction; and in its frivolous cruelty prepared to devour the scandal, of which for a few moments it feared it would have been deprived. Transported with rage, Monsieur Gorsay would have clambered up the steps of the stand to drag down his wife, but the gen d'armes prevented his passing, and he fell back upon a bench, where he remained with face hid in his hands, apparently insensible. Arthur, upon whom Lucia kept her eyes ardently fixed, besought her by a look not to betray any farther a love, the avowal of which must cover her with disgrace. In reply to this mute prayer, he only obtained an impassioned gesture, which expressed her unshaken resolution to save him or perish with him.
Meanwhile, a lively discussion was going on among the judges, whose sagacity had not foreseen this romantic incident. For the sake of public morals, the president wished to suppress the interrogation of Madame Gorsay, who could throw no light on the main fact of the assassination. He succeeded in bringing his colleagues over to this opinion; but the public prosecutor, whose consent was necessary, was not a man to give up, from motives of humanity, the prospect of a development of additional crime, which being ingrafted by him upon an accusation already capital, promised to make it one of the most interesting criminal trials which the court of Bordeaux had ever known. On being consulted by the president of the court, the red-gowned accuser therefore briefly declared that the testimony of the witness appeared to him to be indispensable.
During this discussion, Madame Gorsay remained upright and motionless, earnestly gazing upon Arthur. The proudness of her bearing at this moment might have seemed the effect of a masculine, or rather a super-human energy, were it not for a tremor, almost imperceptible, which forced her to lean her hand for support upon the chair which had been placed for her.
To the questions of form which were addressed her by the president, she replied in a clear and it might be said a composed manner; but when he requested her to tell the jury what she knew relating to the attempt made upon the person of her husband, she paused for a few moments; not that vulgar timidity caused the heroic determination of her heart to falter, but as if to collect at this decisive moment her physical energies, which seemed almost ready to abandon her.
'I have entered this place respected; I shall leave it disgraced!' said she at length, in an altered but thrilling voice. 'It matters little. Between my honor and his life I cannot hesitate. For ten months Arthur d'Aubian has been my lover; Arthur d'Aubian is my lover!' repeated she, with incredible energy, repressing with a commanding gesture the murmuring which these words produced; 'for ten months I have received his visits in my apartment, frequently at night. At the moment the crime was committed, I was awaiting him; if he was found in the park, it was because there was no other way to come to me. Arthur, I repeat, is my lover; who will dare say that he is an assassin?'
'I will!' exclaimed Monsieur Gorsay, rising in a transport of ungovernable fury.