The young advocate advanced eagerly.  His face brightened, as he passed the count’s arm through his own.  When they were gone, M. Daburon could not resist a impulse of curiosity.  He hastened to the door, which he opened slightly; and, keeping his body in the background that he might not himself be seen, he looked out into the passage.  The count and Noel had not yet reached the end.  They were going slowly.  The count seemed to drag heavily and painfully along; the advocate took short steps, bending slightly towards his father; and all his movements were marked with the greatest solicitude.  The magistrate remained watching them until they passed out of sight at the end of the gallery.  Then he returned to his seat, heaving a deep sigh.

“At least,” thought he, “I have helped to make one person happy.  The day will not be entirely a bad one.”

But he had no time to give way to his thoughts, the hours flew by so quickly.  He wished to interrogate Albert as soon as possible; and he had still to receive the evidence of several of the count’s servants, and the report of the commissary of police charged with the arrest.  The servants who had been waiting their turn a long while were now brought in without delay, and examined separately.  They had but little information to give; but the testimony of each was so to say a fresh accusation.  It was easy to see that all believed their master guilty.

Albert’s conduct since the beginning of the fatal week, his least words, his most insignificant movements, were reported, commented upon, and explained.

The man who lives in the midst of thirty servants is like an insect in a glass box under the magnifying glass of a naturalist.  Not one of his acts escapes their notice:  he can scarcely have a secret of his own; and, if they cannot divine what it is, they at least know that he has one.  From morn till night he is the point of observation for thirty pairs of eyes, interested in studying the slightest changes in his countenance.

The magistrate obtained, therefore, an abundance of those frivolous details which seem nothing at first; but the slightest of which may, at the trial, become a question of life or death.

By combining these depositions, reconciling them and putting them in order, M. Daburon was able to follow his prisoner hour by hour from the Sunday morning.

Directly Noel left, the viscount gave orders that all visitors should be informed that he had gone into the country.  From that moment, the whole household perceived that something had gone wrong with him, that he was very much annoyed, or very unwell.

He did not leave his study on that day, but had his dinner brought up to him.  He ate very little,—­only some soup, and a very thin fillet of sole with white wine.  While eating, he said to M. Contois, the butler:  “Remind the cook to spice the sauce a little more, in future,” and then added in a low tone, “Ah! to what purpose?” In the evening he dismissed his servants from all duties, saying, “Go, and amuse yourselves.”  He expressly warned them not to disturb him unless he rang.