“Oh! that is not the same thing,” said M. Seneschal.

“Certainly not!” replied the doctor; “and there you are right, for once.  If M. de Boiscoran had committed this crime, it would be one of those absurd crimes which are revolting to us; but, if committed by the countess, it is only the catastrophe prepared by Count Claudieuse on the day when he married a woman thirty years younger than he was.”

The great wrath of Dr. Seignebos was not always as formidable as it looked.  Even when he appeared to be almost beside himself, he never said more than he intended to say, possessed as he was of that admirable southern quality, which enabled him to pour forth fire and flames, and to remain as cold as ice within, But in this case he showed what he thought fully.  He had said quite enough, too, and had presented the whole affair under such a new aspect, that his friends became very thoughtful.

“You would have converted me, doctor,” said M. Folgat, “if I had not been of your opinion before.”

“I am sure,” added M. de Chandore, after hearing the doctor, “the thing no longer looks impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” said M. Seneschal, like a philosopher.

The eminent advocate of Sauveterre alone remained unmoved.

“Well,” said he, “I had rather admit one hour of utter insanity even than five years of such monstrous hypocrisy.  Jacques may have committed the crime, and be nothing but a madman; but, if the countess is guilty, one might despair of mankind, and renounce all faith in this world.  I have seen her, gentlemen, with her husband and her children.  No one can feign such looks of tenderness and affection.”

“He will never give her up!” growled Dr. Seignebos,—­

And touching his friend on the shoulder,—­for M. Magloire had been his friend for many years, and they were quite intimate,—­he said,—­

“Ah!  There I recognize my friend, the strange lawyer, who judges others by himself, and refuses to believe any thing bad.  Oh, do not protest!  For we love and honor you for that very faith, and are proud to see you among us Republicans.  But I must confess you are not the man to bring light into such a dark intrigue.  At twenty-eight you married a girl whom you loved dearly:  you lost her, and ever since you have remained faithful to her memory, and lived so far from all passions that you no longer believe in their existence.  Happy man!  Your heart is still at twenty; and with your grey hair you still believe in the smiles and looks of woman.”

There was much truth in this; but there are certain truths which we are not overfond of hearing.

“My simplicity has nothing to do with the matter,” said M. Magloire.  “I affirm and maintain that a man who has been for five years the lover of a woman must have some proof of it.”

“Well, there you are mistaken, master,” said the physician, arranging his spectacles with an air of self-conceit, which, under other circumstances, would have been irresistibly ludicrous.