The End of Evil Ways/Section 10
These examinations, which are so quickly read, being written down at full length, questions and answers alike, take up an enormous amount of time. This is one of the reasons of the slowness of these preliminaries to a trial and of these imprisonments "on suspicion." To the poor this is ruin, to the rich it is disgrace; to them only immediate release can in any degree repair, so far as possible, the disaster of an arrest.
This is why the two scenes here related had taken up the whole of the time spent by Asie in deciphering her master's orders, in getting a Duchess out of her boudoir, and putting some energy into Madame de Serizy.
At this moment Camusot, who was anxious to get the full benefit of his cleverness, took the two documents, read them through, and promised himself that he would show them to the public prosecutor and take his opinion on them. During this meditation, his usher came back to tell him that Madame la Comtesse de Serizy's man-servant insisted on speaking with him. At a nod from Camusot, a servant out of livery came in, looked first at the usher, and then at the magistrate, and said, "I have the honor of speaking to Monsieur Camusot?"
"Yes," replied the lawyer and his clerk.
Camusot took a note which the servant offered him, and read as follows:—
"For the sake of many interests which will be obvious to you, my
dear Camusot, do not examine Monsieur de Rubempre. We have brought
ample proofs of his innocence that he may be released forthwith.
"D. DE MAUFRIGNEUSE.
"L. DE SERIZY.
"P. S.—Burn this note."
Camusot understood at once that he had blundered preposterously in laying snares for Lucien, and he began by obeying the two fine ladies—he lighted a taper, and burned the letter written by the Duchess. The man bowed respectfully.
"Then Madame de Serizy is coming here?" asked Camusot.
"The carriage is being brought round."
At this moment Coquart came in to tell Monsieur Camusot that the public prosecutor expected him.
Oppressed by the blunder he had committed, in view of his ambitions, though to the better ends of justice, the lawyer, in whom seven years' experience had perfected the sharpness that comes to a man who in his practice has had to measure his wits against the grisettes of Paris, was anxious to have some shield against the resentment of two women of fashion. The taper in which he had burned the note was still alight, and he used it to seal up the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse's notes to Lucien—about thirty in all—and Madame de Serizy's somewhat voluminous correspondence.
Then he waited on the public prosecutor.
The Palais de Justice is a perplexing maze of buildings piled one above another, some fine and dignified, others very mean, the whole disfigured by its lack of unity. The Salle des Pas-Perdus is the largest known hall, but its nakedness is hideous, and distresses the eye. This vast Cathedral of the Law crushes the Supreme Court. The Galerie Marchande ends in two drain-like passages. From this corridor there is a double staircase, a little larger than that of the Criminal Courts, and under it a large double door. The stairs lead down to one of the Assize Courts, and the doors open into another. In some years the number of crimes committed in the circuit of the Seine is great enough to necessitate the sitting of two Benches.
Close by are the public prosecutor's offices, the attorney's room and library, the chambers of the attorney-general, and those of the public prosecutor's deputies. All these purlieus, to use a generic term, communicate by narrow spiral stairs and the dark passages, which are a disgrace to the architecture not of Paris only, but of all France. The interior arrangement of the sovereign court of justice outdoes our prisons in all that is most hideous. The writer describing our manners and customs would shrink from the necessity of depicting the squalid corridor of about a metre in width, in which the witnesses wait in the Superior Criminal Court. As to the stove which warms the court itself, it would disgrace a cafe on the Boulevard Mont-Parnasse.
The public prosecutor's private room forms part of an octagon wing flanking the Galerie Marchande, built out recently in regard to the age of the structure, over the prison yard, outside the women's quarters. All this part of the Palais is overshadowed by the lofty and noble edifice of the Sainte-Chapelle. And all is solemn and silent.
Monsieur de Granville, a worthy successor of the great magistrates of the ancient Parlement, would not leave Paris without coming to some conclusion in the matter of Lucien. He expected to hear from Camusot, and the judge's message had plunged him into the involuntary suspense which waiting produces on even the strongest minds. He had been sitting in the window-bay of his private room; he rose, and walked up and down, for having lingered in the morning to intercept Camusot, he had found him dull of apprehension; he was vaguely uneasy and worried.
And this was why.
The dignity of his high functions forbade his attempting to fetter the perfect independence of the inferior judge, and yet this trial nearly touched the honor and good name of his best friend and warmest supporter, the Comte de Serizy, Minister of State, member of the Privy Council, Vice-President of the State Council, and prospective Chancellor of the Realm, in the event of the death of the noble old man who held that august office. It was Monsieur de Serizy's misfortune to adore his wife "through fire and water," and he always shielded her with his protection. Now the public prosecutor fully understood the terrible fuss that would be made in the world and at court if a crime should be proved against a man whose name had been so often and so malignantly linked with that of the Countess.
"Ah!" he sighed, folding his arms, "formerly the supreme authority could take refuge in an appeal. Nowadays our mania for equality"—he dared not say for Legality, as a poetic orator in the Chamber courageously admitted a short while since—"is the death of us."
This noble magistrate knew all the fascination and the miseries of an illicit attachment. Esther and Lucien, as we have seen, had taken the rooms where the Comte de Granville had lived secretly on connubial terms with Mademoiselle de Bellefeuille, and whence she had fled one day, lured away by a villain. (See A Double Marriage.)
At the very moment when the public prosecutor was saying to himself, "Camusot is sure to have done something silly," the examining magistrate knocked twice at the door of his room.
"Well, my dear Camusot, how is that case going on that I spoke of this morning?"
"Badly, Monsieur le Comte; read and judge for yourself."
He held out the minutes of the two examinations to Monsieur de Granville, who took up his eyeglass and went to the window to read them. He had soon run through them.
"You have done your duty," said the Count in an agitated voice. "It is all over. The law must take its course. You have shown so much skill, that you need never fear being deprived of your appointment as examining judge—-"
If Monsieur de Granville had said to Camusot, "You will remain an examining judge to your dying day," he could not have been more explicit than in making this polite speech. Camusot was cold in the very marrow.
"Madame la Duchesse de Maufrigneuse, to whom I owe much, had desired me . . ."
"Oh yes, the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse is Madame de Serizy's friend," said Granville, interrupting him. "To be sure.—You have allowed nothing to influence you, I perceive. And you did well, sir; you will be a great magistrate."
At this instant the Comte Octave de Bauvan opened the door without knocking, and said to the Comte de Granville:
"I have brought you a fair lady, my dear fellow, who did not know which way to turn; she was on the point of losing herself in our labyrinth——"
And Comte Octave led in by the hand the Comtesse de Serizy, who had been wandering about the place for the last quarter of an hour.
"What, you here, madame!" exclaimed the public prosecutor, pushing forward his own armchair, "and at this moment! This, madame, is Monsieur Camusot," he added, introducing the judge.—"Bauvan," said he to the distinguished ministerial orator of the Restoration, "wait for me in the president's chambers; he is still there, and I will join you."
Comte Octave de Bauvan understood that not merely was he in the way, but that Monsieur de Granville wanted an excuse for leaving his room.
Madame de Serizy had not made the mistake of coming to the Palais de Justice in her handsome carriage with a blue hammer-cloth and coats-of-arms, her coachman in gold lace, and two footmen in breeches and silk stockings. Just as they were starting Asie impressed on the two great ladies the need for taking the hackney coach in which she and the Duchess had arrived, and she had likewise insisted on Lucien's mistress adopting the costume which is to women what a gray cloak was of yore to men. The Countess wore a plain brown dress, an old black shawl, and a velvet bonnet from which the flowers had been removed, and the whole covered up under a thick lace veil.
"You received our note?" said she to Camusot, whose dismay she mistook for respectful admiration.
"Alas! but too late, Madame la Comtesse," replied the lawyer, whose tact and wit failed him excepting in his chambers and in presence of a prisoner.
"Too late! How?"
She looked at Monsieur de Granville, and saw consternation written in his face. "It cannot be, it must not be too late!" she added, in the tone of a despot.
Women, pretty women, in the position of Madame de Serizy, are the spoiled children of French civilization. If the women of other countries knew what a woman of fashion is in Paris, a woman of wealth and rank, they would all want to come and enjoy that splendid royalty. The women who recognize no bonds but those of propriety, no law but the petty charter which has been more than once alluded to in this Comedie Humaine as the ladies' Code, laugh at the statutes framed by men. They say everything, they do not shrink from any blunder or hesitate at any folly, for they all accept the fact that they are irresponsible beings, answerable for nothing on earth but their good repute and their children. They say the most preposterous things with a laugh, and are ready on every occasion to repeat the speech made in the early days of her married life by pretty Madame de Bauvan to her husband, whom she came to fetch away from the Palais: "Make haste and pass sentence, and come away."
"Madame," said the public prosecutor, "Monsieur Lucien de Rubempre is not guilty either of robbery or of poisoning; but Monsieur Camusot has led him to confess a still greater crime."
"What is that?" she asked.
"He acknowledged," said Monsieur Camusot in her ear, "that he is the friend and pupil of an escaped convict. The Abbe Carlos Herrera, the Spaniard with whom he has been living for the last seven years, is the notorious Jacques Collin."
Madame de Serizy felt as if it were a blow from an iron rod at each word spoken by the judge, but this name was the finishing stroke.
"And the upshot of all this?" she said, in a voice that was no more than a breath.
"Is," Monsieur de Granville went on, finishing the Countess' sentence in an undertone, "that the convict will be committed for trial, and that if Lucien is not committed with him as having profited as an accessory to the man's crimes, he must appear as a witness very seriously compromised."
"Oh! never, never!" she cried aloud, with amazing firmness. "For my part, I should not hesitate between death and the disaster of seeing a man whom the world has known to be my dearest friend declared by the bench to be the accomplice of a convict.—The King has a great regard for my husband——"
"Madame," said the public prosecutor, also aloud, and with a smile, "the King has not the smallest power over the humblest examining judge in his kingdom, nor over the proceedings in any court of justice. That is the grand feature of our new code of laws. I myself have just congratulated M. Camusot on his skill——"
"On his clumsiness," said the Countess sharply, though Lucien's intimacy with a scoundrel really disturbed her far less than his attachment to Esther.
"If you will read the minutes of the examination of the two prisoners by Monsieur Camusot, you will see that everything is in his hands——"
After this speech, the only thing the public prosecutor could venture to say, and a flash of feminine—or, if you will, lawyer-like—cunning, he went to the door; then, turning round on the threshold, he added:
"Excuse me, madame; I have two words to say to Bauvan." Which, translated by the worldly wise, conveyed to the Countess: "I do not want to witness the scene between you and Camusot."
"What is this examination business?" said Leontine very blandly to Camusot, who stood downcast in the presence of the wife of one of the most important personages in the realm.
"Madame," said Camusot, "a clerk writes down all the magistrate's questions and the prisoner's replies. This document is signed by the clerk, by the judge, and by the prisoner. This evidence is the raw material of the subsequent proceedings; on it the accused are committed for trial, and remanded to appear before the Criminal Court."
"Well, then," said she, "if the evidence were suppressed——?"
"Oh, madame, that is a crime which no magistrate could possibly commit—a crime against society."
"It is a far worse crime against me to have ever allowed it to be recorded; still, at this moment it is the only evidence against Lucien. Come, read me the minutes of his examination that I may see if there is still a way of salvation for us all, monsieur. I do not speak for myself alone—I should quite calmly kill myself—but Monsieur de Serizy's happiness is also at stake."
"Pray, madame, do not suppose that I have forgotten the respect due you," said Camusot. "If Monsieur Popinot, for instance, had undertaken this case, you would have had worse luck than you have found with me; for he would not have come to consult Monsieur de Granville; no one would have heard anything about it. I tell you, madame, everything has been seized in Monsieur Lucien's lodging, even your letters——"
"What! my letters!"
"Here they are, madame, in a sealed packet."
The Countess in her agitation rang as if she had been at home, and the office-boy came in.
"A light," said she.
The boy lighted a taper and placed it on the chimney-piece, while the Countess looked through the letters, counted them, crushed them in her hand, and flung them on the hearth. In a few minutes she set the whole mass in a blaze, twisting up the last note to serve as a torch.
Camusot stood, looking rather foolish as he watched the papers burn, holding the legal documents in his hand. The Countess, who seemed absorbed in the work of destroying the proofs of her passion, studied him out of the corner of her eye. She took her time, she calculated her distance; with the spring of a cat she seized the two documents and threw them on the flames. But Camusot saved them; the Countess rushed on him and snatched back the burning papers. A struggle ensued, Camusot calling out: "Madame, but madame! This is contempt—madame!"
A man hurried into the room, and the Countess could not repress a scream as she beheld the Comte de Serizy, followed by Monsieur de Granville and the Comte de Bauvan. Leontine, however, determined to save Lucien at any cost, would not let go of the terrible stamped documents, which she clutched with the tenacity of a vise, though the flame had already burnt her delicate skin like a moxa.
At last Camusot, whose fingers also were smarting from the fire, seemed to be ashamed of the position; he let the papers go; there was nothing left of them but the portions so tightly held by the antagonists that the flame could not touch them. The whole scene had taken less time than is needed to read this account of it.
"What discussion can have arisen between you and Madame de Serizy?" the husband asked of Camusot.
Before the lawyer could reply, the Countess held the fragments in the candle and threw them on the remains of her letters, which were not entirely consumed.
"I shall be compelled," said Camusot, "to lay a complaint against Madame la Comtesse——"
"Heh! What has she done?" asked the public prosecutor, looking alternately at the lady and the magistrate.
"I have burned the record of the examinations," said the lady of fashion with a laugh, so pleased at her high-handed conduct that she did not yet feel the pain of the burns, "If that is a crime—well, monsieur must get his odious scrawl written out again."
"Very true," said Camusot, trying to recover his dignity.
"Well, well, 'All's well that ends well,'" said Monsieur de Granville. "But, my dear Countess, you must not often take such liberties with the Law; it might fail to discern who and what you are."
"Monsieur Camusot valiantly resisted a woman whom none can resist; the Honor of the Robe is safe!" said the Comte de Bauvan, laughing.
"Indeed! Monsieur Camusot was resisting?" said the public prosecutor, laughing too. "He is a brave man indeed; I should not dare resist the Countess."
And thus for the moment this serious affair was no more than a pretty woman's jest, at which Camusot himself must laugh.
But Monsieur de Granville saw one man who was not amused. Not a little alarmed by the Comte de Serizy's attitude and expression, his friend led him aside.
"My dear fellow," said he in a whisper, "your distress persuades me for the first and only time in my life to compromise with my duty."
The public prosecutor rang, and the office-boy appeared.
"Desire Monsieur de Chargeboeuf to come here."
Monsieur de Chargeboeuf, a sucking barrister, was his private secretary.
"My good friend," said the Comte de Granville to Camusot, whom he took to the window, "go back to your chambers, get your clerk to reconstruct the report of the Abbe Carlos Herrera's depositions; as he had not signed the first copy, there will be no difficulty about that. To-morrow you must confront your Spanish diplomate with Rastignac and Bianchon, who will not recognize him as Jacques Collin. Then, being sure of his release, the man will sign the document.
"As to Lucien de Rubempre, set him free this evening; he is not likely to talk about an examination of which the evidence is destroyed, especially after such a lecture as I shall give him.
"Now you will see how little justice suffers by these proceedings. If the Spaniard really is the convict, we have fifty ways of recapturing him and committing him for trial—for we will have his conduct in Spain thoroughly investigated. Corentin, the police agent, will take care of him for us, and we ourselves will keep an eye on him. So treat him decently; do not send him down to the cells again.
"Can we be the death of the Comte and Comtesse de Serizy, as well as of Lucien, for the theft of seven hundred and fifty thousand francs as yet unproven, and to Lucien's personal loss? Will it not be better for him to lose the money than to lose his character? Above all, if he is to drag with him in his fall a Minister of State, and his wife, and the Duchesse du Maufrigneuse.
"This young man is a speckled orange; do not leave it to rot.
"All this will take you about half an hour; go and get it done; we will wait for you. It is half-past three; you will find some judges about. Let me know if you can get a rule of insufficient evidence—or Lucien must wait till to-morrow morning."
Camusot bowed to the company and went; but Madame de Serizy, who was suffering a good deal from her burns, did not return his bow.
Monsieur de Serizy, who had suddenly rushed away while the public prosecutor and the magistrate were talking together, presently returned, having fetched a small jar of virgin wax. With this he dressed his wife's fingers, saying in an undertone:
"Leontine, why did you come here without letting me know?"
"My dear," replied she in a whisper, "forgive me. I seem mad, but indeed your interests were as much involved as mine."
"Love this young fellow if fatality requires it, but do not display your passion to all the world," said the luckless husband.
"Well, my dear Countess," said Monsieur de Granville, who had been engaged in conversation with Comte Octave, "I hope you may take Monsieur de Rubempre home to dine with you this evening."
This half promise produced a reaction; Madame de Serizy melted into tears.
"I thought I had no tears left," said she with a smile. "But could you not bring Monsieur de Rubempre to wait here?"
"I will try if I can find the ushers to fetch him, so that he may not be seen under the escort of the gendarmes," said Monsieur de Granville.
"You are as good as God!" cried she, with a gush of feeling that made her voice sound like heavenly music.
"These are the women," said Comte Octave, "who are fascinating, irresistible!"
And he became melancholy as he thought of his own wife. (See Honorine.)
As he left the room, Monsieur de Granville was stopped by young Chargeboeuf, to whom he spoke to give him instructions as to what he was to say to Massol, one of the editors of the Gazette des Tribunaux.