‘But justice has removed the veil with which an impious hand endeavoured to cover itself. Already, on the night of the 1st of November, suspicion was awakened by the extraordinary agitation of Peytel; by those excessive attentions towards his wife, which came so late; by that excessive and noisy grief, and by those calculated bursts of sorrow, which are such as Nature does not exhibit. The criminal, whom the public conscience had fixed upon; the man whose frightful combinations have been laid bare, and whose falsehoods, step by step, have been exposed, during the proceedings previous to the trial; the murderer, at whose hands a heart-stricken family, and society at large, demands an account of the blood of a wife;—that murderer is Peytel!’
When, my dear Briefless, you are a judge (as I make no doubt you will be, when you have left off the club all night, cigar-smoking of mornings, and reading novels in bed), will you ever find it in your heart to order a fellow-sinner’s head off upon such evidence as this? Because a romantic Substitut du Procureur du Roi chooses to compose and recite a little drama, and draw tears from juries, let us hope that severe Rhadamanthine judges are not to be melted by such trumpery. One wants but the description of the characters to render the piece complete, as thus:—
| Personnages. | Costumes. | |
| Sebastien Peytel | —Meurtrier | —Habillement complet de notaire perfide: figure pâle, barbe noire, cheveux noirs. |
| Louis Rey | —Soldat retiré, bon, brave, franc, jovial, aimant le vin, les femmes, la gaîté, ses maîtres surtout; vrai Français, enfin. | —Costume ordinaire; il porte sur ses épaules une couverture de cheval. |
| Wolff | —Lieutenant de Gendarmerie. | |
| Félicité d'Alcazar | —Femme et victime de Peytel. | |
| Médecins, Villageois, Filles d’Auberge, Garçons d’Ecurie, etc. etc. | ||
La scène se passe sur le pont d’Andert, entre Mâcon et Belley. Il est minuit. La pluie tombe: les tonnerres grondent. Le ciel est couvert de nuages, et sillonné d’éclairs.
All these personages are brought into play in the Procureur’s drama: the villagers come in with their chorus; the old lieutenant of gendarmes with his suspicions; Rey’s frankness and gaiety, the romantic circumstances of his birth, his gallantry and fidelity, are all introduced, in order to form a contrast with Peytel, and to call down the jury’s indignation against the latter. But are these proofs? or anything like proofs? And the suspicions, that are to serve instead of proofs, what are they?
‘My servant, Louis Rey, was very sombre and reserved,’ says Peytel; ‘he refused to call me in the morning, to carry my money-chest to my room, to cover the open car when it rained.’ The Prosecutor disproves these by stating that Rey talked with the inn maids and servants, asked if his master was up, and stood in the inn-yard, grooming the horses, with his master by his side, neither speaking to the other. Might he not have talked to the maids, and yet been sombre when speaking to his master? Might he not have neglected to call his master, and yet have asked whether he was awake? Might he not have said that the inn gates were safe, out of hearing of the ostler witness? Mr. Substitute’s answers to Peytel’s statements are no answers at all. Every word Peytel said might be true, and yet Louis Rey might not have committed the murder; or every word might have been false, and yet Louis Rey might have committed the murder.
‘Then,’ says Mr. Substitute, ‘how many obstacles are there to the commission of the crime! And these are:—
‘1. Rey provided himself with one holster pistol, to kill two people, knowing well that one of them had always a brace of pistols about him.
‘2. He does not think of firing until his master’s eyes are open: fires at six paces, not caring at whom he fires, and then runs away.
‘3. He could not have intended to kill his master, because he had no passport in his pocket, and no clothes; and because he must have been detained at the frontier until morning; and because he would have had to drive two carriages, in order to avoid suspicion.