At a sign from the president, and in the midst of the most profound silence, the ushers remove the red cloth from the table.

P.—­(Pointing at the clothes of the accused.) Does the costume which you describe correspond with those cloths?

C.C.—­Of course; for they are the same.

P.—­Then you must have recognized the murderer.

C.C.—­The fire was so large at that time, that it was as bright as daylight.  I recognized M. Jacques de Boiscoran.

There was, probably, in the whole vast audience assembled under that roof, not a heart that was not seized with unspeakable anguish when these crushing words were uttered.

We were so fully prepared for them, that we could watch the accused closely.

Not a muscle in his face seemed to move.  His counsel showed as little any signs of surprise or emotion.

Like ourselves, the president also, and the prosecuting attorney, had been watching the accused and his counsel.  Did they expect a protest, an answer, any thing at all?  Perhaps they did.

But, as nothing came, the president continued, turning to witness,—­

P.—­Your declaration is a very serious one, sir.

C.C.—­I know its weight.

P.—­It is entirely different from your first deposition made before the investigating magistrate.

C.C.—­It is.

P.—­When you were examined a few hours after the crime, you declared that you had not recognized the murderer.  More than that, when M. de Boiscoran’s name was mentioned, you seemed to be indignant of such a suspicion, and almost became surety yourself for his innocence.

C.C.—­That was contrary to truth.  I felt a very natural sense of commiseration, and tried to save a man who belonged to a highly esteemed family from disgraceful punishment.

P.—­But now?

C.C.—­Now I see that I was wrong, and that the law ought to have its course.  And this is my reason for coming here,—­although afflicted by a disease which never spares, and on the point of appearing before God—­in order to tell you M. de Boiscoran is guilty.  I recognized him.

P.—­(To the accused.) Do you hear?

The accused rises and says,—­

A.—­By all that is dear and sacred to me in the world, I swear that I am innocent.  Count Claudieuse says he is about to appear before God:  I appeal to the justice of God.

Sobs well-nigh drown the voice of the accused.  The Marchioness de Boiscoran is overcome by a nervous attack.  She is carried out stiff and inanimate; and Dr. Seignebos and Miss Chandore hasten after her.

A.—­(To Count Claudieuse.) You have killed my mother!

Certainly, all who had hoped for scenes of thrilling interest were not disappointed.  Everybody looks overcome with excitement.  Tears appear in the eyes of almost all the ladies.