The seals had been set on the 31st of July 1672, and they were taken off on the 8th of August following.  Just as they set to work a lawyer charged with full powers of acting for the marquise, appeared and put in the following statement:  “Alexandre Delamarre, lawyer acting for the Marquise de Brinvilliers, has come forward, and declares that if in the box claimed by his client there is found a promise signed by her for the sum of 30,000 livres, it is a paper taken from her by fraud, against which, in case of her signature being verified, she intends to lodge an appeal for nullification.”  This formality over, they proceeded to open Sainte-Croix’s closet:  the key was handed to the commissary Picard by a Carmelite called Friar Victorin.  The commissary opened the door, and entered with the parties interested, the officers, and the widow, and they began by setting aside the loose papers, with a view to taking them in order, one at a time.  While they were thus busy, a small roll fell down, on which these two words were written:  “My Confession.”  All present, having no reason to suppose Sainte-Croix a bad man, decided that this paper ought not to be read.  The deputy for the attorney general on being consulted was of this opinion, and the confession of Sainte-Croix was burnt.  This act of conscience performed, they proceeded to make an inventory.  One of the first objects that attracted the attention of the officers was the box claimed by Madame de Brinvilliers.  Her insistence had provoked curiosity, so they began with it.  Everybody went near to see what was in it, and it was opened.

We shall let the report speak:  in such cases nothing is so effective or so terrible as the official statement.

“In the closet of Sainte-Croix was found a small box one foot square, on the top of which lay a half-sheet of paper entitled ‘My Will,’ written on one side and containing these words:  ’I humbly entreat any into whose hands this chest may fall to do me the kindness of putting it into the hands of Madame the Marquise de Brinvilliers, resident in the rue Neuve-Saint-Paul, seeing that all the contents concern and belong to her alone, and are of no use to any person in the world apart from herself:  in case of her being already dead before me, the box and all its contents should be burnt without opening or disturbing anything.  And lest anyone should plead ignorance of the contents, I swear by the God I worship and by all that is most sacred that no untruth is here asserted.  If anyone should contravene my wishes that are just and reasonable in this matter, I charge their conscience therewith in discharging my own in this world and the next, protesting that such is my last wish.

“’Given at Paris, the 25th of May after noon, 1672.  Signed by Sainte-Croix,’

“And below were written these words:  ’There is one packet only addressed to M. Penautier which should be delivered.’”

It may be easily understood that a disclosure of this kind only increased the interest of the scene; there was a murmur of curiosity, and when silence again reigned, the official continued in these words: