His speech, in fragments, penetrated to the dining-room.  According as he turned to the right or to the left, his voice was clear and distinct, or was lost in space.  He said: 

“Fellow-citizens, an atrocious crime, unheard of before in our commune, has shocked our peaceable and honest neighborhood.  I understand and excuse your feverish emotion, your natural indignation.  As well as you, my friends, more than you—­I cherished and esteemed the noble Count de Tremorel, and his virtuous wife.  We mourn them together—­”

“I assure you,” said Dr. Gendron to M. Plantat, “that the symptoms you describe are not uncommon after pleurisy.  From the acute state, the inflammation passes to the chronic state, and becomes complicated with pneumonia.”

“But nothing,” pursued the mayor, “can justify a curiosity, which by its importunate attempts to be satisfied, embarrasses the investigation, and is, at all events, a punishable interference with the cause of justice.  Why this unwonted gathering?  Why these rumors and noises?  These premature conjectures?”

“There were several consultations,” said M. Plantat, “which did not have favorable results.  Sauvresy suffered altogether strange and unaccountable tortures.  He complained of troubles so unwonted, so absurd, if you’ll excuse the word, that he discouraged all the conjectures of the most experienced physicians.”

“Was it not R—–­, of Paris, who attended him?”

“Exactly.  He came daily, and often remained overnight.  Many times I have seen him ascending the principal street of the village, with troubled countenance, as he went to give his prescription to the apothecary.

“Be wise enough,” cried M. Courtois, “to moderate your just anger; be calm; be dignified.”

“Surely,” continued Dr. Gendron, “your apothecary is an intelligent man; but you have at Orcival a fellow who quite outdoes him, a fellow who knows how to make money; one Robelot—­”

“Robelot, the bone-setter?”

“That’s the man.  I suspect him of giving consultations, and prescribing sub rosa.  He is very clever.  In fact I educated him.  Five or six years ago, he was my laboratory boy, and even now I employ him when I have a delicate operation on hand—­”

The doctor stopped, struck by the alteration in the impassible Plantat’s features.

“What is the matter, my friend?” he asked.  “Are you ill?”

The judge left his notes, to look at him.  “Why,” said he, “Monsieur Plantat is very pale—­”

But M. Plantat speedily resumed his habitual expression.

“’Tis nothing,” he answered, “really nothing.  With my abominable stomach, as soon as I change my hour of eating—­”

Having reached his peroration, M. Courtois raised his voice.

“Return,” said he, “to your peaceable homes, your quiet avocations.  Rest assured the law protects you.  Already justice has begun its work; two of the criminals are in its power, and we are on the track of their accomplices.”