“Will they really give it to me?” he asked.

“Since you have discovered the real criminal, and handed him over to justice.”

“Well, then, I will bless these wounds:  I feel that I shall be up again in a fortnight.  Give me quick pen and ink, that I may write my resignation immediately, and tell my wife the good news.”

He was interrupted by the entrance of one of the officers of the court, who, walking up to the commonwealth attorney, said to him respectfully,—­

“Sir, the priest from Brechy is waiting for you at your office.”

“I am coming directly,” replied M. Daubigeon.

And, turning to his companions, he said,—­

“Let us go, gentlemen.”

The priest was waiting, and rose quickly from his chair when he saw M. Daubigeon enter, accompanied by M. Galpin, M. Folgat, and Dr. Seignebos.

“Perhaps you wish to speak to me alone, sir?” asked M. Daubigeon.

“No, sir,” replied the old priest, “no!  The words of reparation which have been intrusted to me must be uttered publicly.”  And handing him a letter, he added,—­

“Read this.  Please read it aloud.”

The commonwealth attorney tore the envelope with a tremulous hand, an then read,—­

“Being about to die as a Christian, as I have lived as a Christian, I owe it to myself, I owe it to God whom I have offended, and I owe it to those men whom I have deceived, to declare the truth.

“Actuated by hatred, I have been guilty of giving false evidence in court, and of stating wrongfully that M. de Boiscoran is the man who shot at me, and that I recognized him in the act.

“I did not only not recognize him, but I know that he is innocent.  I am sure of it; and I swear it by all I hold sacred in this world which I am about to leave, and in that world in which I must appear before my sovereign Judge.

“May M. de Boiscoran pardon me as I pardon myself.

“TRIVULCE COUNT CLAUDIEUSE.”

“Poor man!” murmured M. Folgat.

The priest at once went on,—­

“You see, gentlemen, Count Claudieuse withdraws his charge unconditionally.  He asks for nothing in return:  he only wants the truth to be established.  And yet I beg leave to express the last wishes of a dying man.  I beseech you, in the new trial, to make no mention of the name of the countess.”

Tears were seen in all eyes.

“You may rest assured, reverend father,” said M. Daubigeon, “that Count Claudieuse’s last wishes shall be attended to.  The name of the countess shall not appear.  There will be no need for it.  The secret of her wrongs shall be religiously kept by those who know it.”

It was four o’clock now.

An hour later there arrived at the court-house a gendarme and Michael, the son of the Boiscoran tenant, who had been sent out to ascertain if Cocoleu’s statement was true.  They brought back the gun which the wretch had used, and which he had concealed in that den which he had dug out for himself in the forest of Rochepommier, and where Michael had discovered him the day after the crime.