“Before I go away, madam, I should like to know what you think of these events.”

The poor lady, who looked as pale as death itself, could hardly hold up any longer.  There seemed to be nothing alive in her but her eyes, which were lighted up with unusual brilliancy.

“Ah!  I do not know, sir,” she replied in a feeble voice.  “How can I collect my thoughts after such terrible shocks?”

“Still you questioned Cocoleu.”

“Who would not have done so, when the truth was at stake?”

“And you were not surprised at the name he mentioned?”

“You must have seen, sir.”

“I saw; and that is exactly why I ask you, and why I want to know what you really think of the state of mind of the poor creature.”

“Don’t you know that he is idiotic?”

“I know; and that is why I was so surprised to see you insist upon making him talk.  Do you really think, that, in spite of his habitual imbecility, he may have glimpses of sense?”

“He had, a few moments before, saved my children from death.”

“That proves his devotion for you.”

“He is very much attached to me indeed, just like a poor animal that I might have picked up and cared for.”

“Perhaps so.  And still he showed more than mere animal instinct.”

“That may well be so.  I have more than once noticed flashes of intelligence in Cocoleu.”

The doctor had taken off his spectacles, and was wiping them furiously.

“It is a great pity that one of these flashes of intelligence did not enlighten him when he saw M. de Boiscoran make a fire and get ready to murder Count Claudieuse.”

The countess leaned against the door-posts, as if about to faint.

“But it is exactly to his excitement at the sight of the flames, and at hearing the shots fired, that I ascribe Cocoleu’s return to reason.”

“May be,” said the doctor, “may be.”

Then putting on his spectacles again, he added,—­

“That is a question to be decided by the professional men who will have to examine the poor imbecile creature.”

“What!  Is he going to be examined?”

“Yes, and very thoroughly, madam, I tell you.  And now I have the honor of wishing you good-bye.  However, I shall come back to-night, unless you should succeed during the day in finding lodgings in Sauveterre,—­an arrangement which would be very desirable for myself, in the first place, and not less so for your husband and your daughter.  They are not comfortable in this cottage.”

Thereupon he lifted his hat, returned to town, and immediately asked M. Seneschal in the most imperious manner to have Cocoleu arrested.  Unfortunately the gendarmes had been unsuccessful; and Dr. Seignebos, who saw how unfortunate all this was for Jacques, began to get terribly impatient, when on Saturday night, towards ten o’clock, M. Seneschal came in, and said,—­