A few minutes later, a sound of voices rose from the other side of the house, no doubt near the well. The sound grew more distinct. A number of people flocked into the house. Some of them went upstairs to the first floor, while the sergeant arrived with a young man of whom Rénine and Hortense were able to distinguish only the tall figure:
“Jérôme Vignal,” said she.
“Yes,” said Rénine. “They are examining Madame de Gorne first, upstairs, in her bedroom.”
A quarter of an hour passed. Then the persons on the first floor came downstairs and went in. They were the procurator’s deputy, his clerk, a commissary of police and two detectives.
Madame de Gorne was shown in and the deputy asked Jérôme Vignal to step forward.
Jérôme Vignal’s face was certainly that of the strong man whom Hortense had depicted in her letter. He displayed no uneasiness, but rather decision and a resolute will. Natalie, who was short and very slight, with a feverish light in her eyes, nevertheless produced the same impression of quiet confidence.
The deputy, who was examining the disordered furniture and the traces of the struggle, invited her to sit down and said to Jérôme:
“Monsieur, I have not asked you many questions so far. This is a summary enquiry which I am conducting in your presence and which will be continued later by the examining-magistrate; and I wished above all to explain to you the very serious reasons for which I asked you to interrupt your journey and to come back here with Madame de Gorne. You are now in a position to refute the truly distressing charges that are hanging over you. I therefore ask you to tell me the exact truth.”
“Mr. Deputy,” replied Jérôme, “the charges in question trouble me very little. The truth for which you are asking will defeat all the lies which chance has accumulated against me. It is this.”
He reflected for an instant and then, in clear, frank tones, said:
“I love Madame de Gorne. The first time I met her, I conceived the greatest sympathy and admiration for her. But my affection has always been directed by the sole thought of her happiness. I love her, but I respect her even more. Madame de Gorne must have told you and I tell you again that she and I exchanged our first few words last night.”
He continued, in a lower voice:
“I respect her the more inasmuch as she is exceedingly unhappy. All the world knows that every minute of her life was a martyrdom. Her husband persecuted her with ferocious hatred and frantic jealousy. Ask the servants. They will tell you of the long suffering of Natalie de Gorne, of the blows which she received and the insults which she had to endure. I tried to stop this torture by restoring to the rights of appeal which the merest stranger may claim when unhappiness and injustice pass a certain limit. I went three times to old de Gorne and begged him to interfere; but I found in him an almost equal hatred towards his daughter-in-law, the hatred which many people feel for anything beautiful and noble. At last I resolved on direct action and last night I took a step with regard to Mathias de Gorne which was … a little unusual, I admit, but which seemed likely to succeed, considering the man’s character. I swear, Mr. Deputy, that I had no other intention than to talk to Mathias de Gorne. Knowing certain particulars of his life which enabled me to bring effective pressure to bear upon him, I wished to make use of this advantage in order to achieve my purpose. If things turned out differently, I am not wholly to blame. … So I went there a little before nine o’clock. The servants, I knew, were out. He opened the door himself. He was alone.”
“Monsieur,” said the deputy, interrupting him, “you are saying something—as Madame de Gorne, for that matter, did just now—which is manifestly opposed to the truth. Mathias de Gorne did not come home last night until eleven o’clock. We have two definite proofs of this: his father’s evidence and the prints of his feet in the snow, which fell from a quarter past nine o’clock to eleven.”
“Mr. Deputy,” Jérôme Vignal declared, without heeding the bad effect which his obstinacy was producing, “I am relating things as they were and not as they may be interpreted. But to continue. That clock marked ten minutes to nine when I entered this room. M. de Gorne, believing that he was about to be attacked, had taken down his gun. I placed my revolver on the table, out of reach of my hand, and sat down: ‘I want to speak to you, monsieur,’ I said. ‘Please listen to me.’ He did not stir and did not utter a single syllable. So I spoke. And straightway, crudely, without any previous explanations which might have softened the bluntness of my proposal, I spoke the few words which I had prepared beforehand: ‘I have spent some months, monsieur,’ I said, ‘in making careful enquiries into your financial position. You have mortgaged every foot of your land. You have signed bills which will shortly be falling due and which it will be absolutely impossible for you to honour. You have nothing to hope for from your father, whose own affairs are in a very bad condition. So you are ruined. I have come to save you.’ … He
