LITMIR.BIZ

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were speaking, you must understand, through the door. At last, he declared that he would climb over the wall. I begged him not to do so, fearing an accident. The wall is very high, as you know; the top is covered with pieces of broken glass, and the acacia branches stretch out above like a hedge. But he laughed at my fears, and said that, unless I absolutely forbade him to do so, he was going to attempt to scale the wall. I dared not say no; and he risked it. I was very frightened, and trembled like a leaf. Fortunately, he is very active, and got over without hurting himself. He had come, sir, to tell me of the misfortune which had befallen him. We first of all sat down upon the little seat you know of, in front of the grove; then, as the rain was falling, we took shelter in the summer house. It was past midnight when Albert left me, quieted and almost gay. He went back in the same manner, only with less danger, because I made him use the gardener’s ladder, which I laid down alongside the wall when he had reached the other side.”

      This account, given in the simplest and most natural manner, puzzled M. Daburon. What was he to think?

      “Mademoiselle,” he asked, “had the rain commenced to fall when M. Albert climbed over the wall?”

      “No, sir, the first drops fell when we were on the seat. I recollect it very well, because he opened his umbrella, and I thought of Paul and Virginia.”

      “Excuse me a minute, mademoiselle,” said the magistrate.

      He sat down at his desk, and rapidly wrote two letters. In the first, he gave orders for Albert to be brought at once to his office in the Palais de Justice. In the second, he directed a detective to go immediately to the Faubourg St. Germain to the d’Arlange house, and examine the wall at the bottom of the garden, and make a note of any marks of its having been scaled, if any such existed. He explained that the wall had been climbed twice, both before and during the rain; consequently the marks of the going and returning would be different from each other.

      He enjoined upon the detective to proceed with the utmost caution, and to invent a plausible pretext which would explain his investigations.

      Having finished writing, the magistrate rang for his servant, who soon appeared.

      “Here,” said he, “are two letters, which you must take to my clerk, Constant. Tell him to read them, and to have the orders they contain executed at once — at once, you understand. Run, take a cab, and be quick! Ah! one word. If Constant is not in my office, have him sought for; he will not be far off, as he is waiting for me. Go quickly!”

      M. Daburon then turned and said to Claire: “Have you kept the letter, mademoiselle, in which M. Albert asked for this interview?”

      “Yes, sir, I even think I have it with me.”

      She arose, felt in her pocket, and drew out a much crumpled piece of paper.

      “Here it is!”

      The investigating magistrate took it. A suspicion crossed his mind. This compromising letter happened to be very conveniently in Claire’s pocket; and yet young girls do not usually carry about with them requests for secret interviews. At a glance, he read the ten lines of the note.

      “No date,” he murmured, “no stamp, nothing at all.”

      Claire did not hear him; she was racking her brain to find other proofs of the interview.

      “Sir,” said she suddenly, “it often happens, that when we wish to be, and believe ourselves alone, we are nevertheless observed. Summon, I beseech you, all of my grandmother’s servants, and inquire if any of them saw Albert that night.”

      “Inquire of your servants! Can you dream of such a thing, mademoiselle?”

      “What, sir? You fear that I shall be compromised. What of that, if he is only freed?”

      M. Daburon could not help admiring her. What sublime devotion in this young girl, whether she spoke the truth or not! He could understand the violence she had been doing to her feelings during the past hour, he who knew her character so well.

      “That is not all,” she added; “the key which I threw to Albert, he did not return it to me; he must have forgotten to do so. If it is found in his possession, it will well prove that he was in the garden.”

      “I will give orders respecting it, mademoiselle.”

      “There is still another thing,” continued Claire; “while I am here, send some one to examine the wall.”

      She seemed to think of everything.

      “That is already done, mademoiselle,” replied M. Daburon. “I will not hide from you that one of the letters which I have just sent off ordered an examination of your grandmother’s wall, a secret examination, though, be assured.”

      Claire rose joyfully, and for the second time held out her hand to the magistrate.

      “Oh, thanks!” she said, “a thousand thanks! Now I can well see that you are with me. But I have still another idea: Albert ought to have the note I wrote on Tuesday.”

      “No, mademoiselle, he burnt it.”

      Claire drew back. She imagined she felt a touch of irony in the magistrate’s reply. There was none, however. M. Daburon remembered the letter thrown into the fire by Albert on the Tuesday afternoon. It could only been the one Claire had sent him. It was to her, then, that the words, “She cannot resist me,” applied. He understood, now, the action and the remark.

      “Can you understand, mademoiselle,” he next asked, “how M. de Commarin could lead justice astray, and expose me to committing a most deplorable error, when it would have been so easy to have told me all this?”

      “It seems to me, sir, that an honourable man cannot confess that he has obtained a secret interview from a lady, until he has full permission from her to do so. He ought to risk his life sooner than the honour of her who has trusted in him; but be assured Albert relied on me.”

      There was nothing to reply to this; and the sentiments expressed by Mademoiselle d’Arlange gave a meaning to one of Albert’s replies in the examination.

      “This is not all yet, mademoiselle,” continued the magistrate; “all that you have told me here, you must repeat in my office, at the Palais de Justice. My clerk will take down your testimony, and you must sign it. This proceeding will be painful to you; but it is a necessary formality.”

      “Ah, sir, I will do so with pleasure. What can I refuse, when I know that he is in prison? I was determined to do everything. If he had been tried at the assizes, I would have gone there. Yes, I would have presented myself, and there before all I would have told the truth. Doubtless,” she added sadly, “I should have been greatly compromised. I should have been looked upon as a heroine of romance; but what matters public opinion, the blame or approval of the world, since I am sure of his love?”

      She rose from her seat, readjusting her cloak and the strings of her bonnet.

      “Is it necessary,” she asked, “that I should await the return of the police agents who are examining the wall?”

      “It is needless, mademoiselle.”

      “Then,” she continued in a sweet voice, “I can only beseech you,” she clasped her hands, “conjure you,” her eyes implored, “to let Albert out of prison.”

      “He shall be liberated as soon as possible; I give you my word.”

      “Oh, today, dear M. Daburon, today, I beg of you, now, at once! Since he is innocent, be kind, for you are our friend. Do you wish me to go down on my knees?”

      The magistrate had only just time to extend his arms, and prevent her.

      He was choking with emotion, the unhappy man! Ah! how much he envied the prisoner’s lot!

      “That which you ask of me is impossible, mademoiselle,” said he in an almost inaudible voice, “impracticable, upon my honour. Ah! if it depended upon me alone, I could not, even were he guilty, see you weep, and resist.”

      Mademoiselle

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