“We shall say he is mistaken.”

“And Jacques will be condemned.”

“Well,” said the young advocate.

And lowering his voice, as if he did not wish to be overheard, he added,—­

“Only the sentence will not be a fatal sentence.  Ah, do not interrupt me, doctor, and upon your life, upon Jacques’s life, do not say a word of what I am going to tell you.  A suspicion which should cross M. Galpin’s mind would destroy my last hope; for it would give him an opportunity of correcting a blunder which he has committed, and which justifies me in saying to you, ’Even if the count should give evidence, even if sentence should be passed, nothing would be lost yet.’”

He had become animated; and his accent and his gestures made you feel that he was sure of himself.

“No,” he repeated, “nothing would be lost; and then we should have time before us, while waiting for a second trial, to hunt up our witnesses, and to force Cocoleu to tell the truth.  Let the count say what he chooses, I like it all the better:  I shall thus be relieved of my last scruples.  It seemed to me odious to betray the countess, because I thought the most cruelly punished would be the count.  But, if the count attacks us, we are on the defence; and public opinion will be on our side.  More than that, they will admire us for having sacrificed our honor to a woman’s honor, and for having allowed ourselves to be condemned rather than to give up the name of her who has given herself to us.”

The physician did not seem to be convinced; but the young advocate paid no attention.  He went on,—­

“No, our success in a second trial would be almost certain.  The scene in Mautrec Street has been seen by a witness:  his iron-shod shoes have left, as you say, their marks under the linden-trees nearest to the parlor-window, and little Martha has watched his movements.  Who can this witness be unless it is Trumence?  Well, we shall lay hands upon him.  He was standing so that he could see every thing, and hear every word.  He will tell what he saw and what he heard.  He will tell how Count Claudieuse called out to M. de Boiscoran, ’No, I do not want to kill you!  I have a surer vengeance than that:  you shall go to the galleys.’”

Dr. Seignebos sadly shook his head as he said,—­

“I hope your expectations may be realized, my dear sir.”

But they came again for the doctor the third time to-day.  Shaking hands with the young advocate, he parted with his young friend, who after a short visit to M. Magloire, whom he thought it his duty to keep well informed of all that was going on, hastened to the house of M. de Chandore.  As soon as he looked into Dionysia’s face, he knew that he had nothing to tell her; that she knew all the facts, and how unjust her suspicions had been.

“What did I tell you, madam?” he said very modestly.

She blushed, ashamed at having let him see the secret doubts which had troubled her so sorely, and, instead of replying, she said,—­