“And now,” concluded the investigating magistrate, “listen to good advice:  do not persist in a system of denying, impossible to sustain.  Give in.  Justice, rest assured, is ignorant of nothing which it is important to know.  Believe me; seek to deserve the indulgence of your judges, confess your guilt.”

M. Daburon did not believe that his prisoner would still persist in asserting his innocence.  He imagined he would be overwhelmed and confounded, that he would throw himself at his feet, begging for mercy.  But he was mistaken.

Albert, in spite of his great prostration, found, in one last effort of his will, sufficient strength to recover himself and again protest,—­“You are right, sir,” he said in a sad, but firm voice; “everything seems to prove me guilty.  In your place, I should have spoken as you have done; yet all the same, I swear to you that I am innocent.”

“Come now, do you really—­” began the magistrate.

“I am innocent,” interrupted Albert; “and I repeat it, without the least hope of changing in any way your conviction.  Yes, everything speaks against me, everything, even my own bearing before you.  It is true, my courage has been shaken by these incredible, miraculous, overwhelming coincidences.  I am overcome, because I feel the impossibility of proving my innocence.  But I do not despair.  My honour and my life are in the hands of God.  At this very hour when to you I appear lost,—­for I in no way deceive myself, sir,—­I do not despair of a complete justification.  I await confidently.”

“What do you mean?” asked the magistrate.

“Nothing but what I say, sir.”

“So you persist in denying your guilt?”

“I am innocent.”

“But this is folly—­”

“I am innocent.”

“Very well,” said M. Daburon; “that is enough for to-day.  You will hear the official report of your examination read, and will then be taken back to solitary confinement.  I exhort you to reflect.  Night will perhaps bring on a better feeling; if you wish at any time to speak to me, send word, and I will come to you.  I will give orders to that effect.  You may read now, Constant.”

When Albert had departed under the escort of the gendarmes, the magistrate muttered in a low tone, “There’s an obstinate fellow for you.”  He certainly no longer entertained the shadow of a doubt.  To him, Albert was as surely the murderer as if he had admitted his guilt Even if he should persist in his system of denial to the end of the investigation, it was impossible, that, with the proofs already in the possession of the police, a true bill should not be found against him.  He was therefore certain of being committed for trial at the assizes.  It was a hundred to one, that the jury would bring in a verdict of guilty.

Left to himself, however, M. Daburon did not experience that intense satisfaction, mixed with vanity, which he ordinarily felt after he had successfully conducted an examination, and had succeeded in getting his prisoner into the same position as Albert.  Something disturbed and shocked him.  At the bottom of his heart, he felt ill at ease.  He had triumphed; but his victory gave him only uneasiness, pain, and vexation.  A reflection so simple that he could hardly understand why it had not occurred to him at first, increased his discontent, and made him angry with himself.