“Is it long since you have eaten anything?”

“I have eaten nothing since that man”—­and so saying he pointed to Lecoq—­“brought me some bread and wine at the station house.”

“Wouldn’t you like to take something?”

“No—­and yet—­if you would be so kind—­I should like a glass of water.”

“Will you not have some wine with it?”

“I should prefer pure water.”

His request was at once complied with.  He drained a first glassful at a single draft; the glass was then replenished and he drank again, this time, however, more slowly.  One might have supposed that he was drinking in life itself.  Certainly, when he laid down the empty glass, he seemed quite another man.

Eighteen out of every twenty criminals who appear before our investigating magistrates come prepared with a more or less complete plan of defense, which they have conceived during their preliminary confinement.  Innocent or guilty, they have resolved, on playing some part or other, which they begin to act as soon as they cross the threshold of the room where the magistrate awaits them.

The moment they enter his presence, the magistrate needs to bring all his powers of penetration into play; for such a culprit’s first attitude as surely betrays his plan of defense as an index reveals a book’s contents.  In this case, however, M. Segmuller did not think that appearances were deceitful.  It seemed evident to him that the prisoner was not feigning, but that the excited frenzy which marked his entrance was as real as his after stupor.

At all events, there seemed no fear of the danger the governor of the Depot had spoken of, and accordingly M. Segmuller seated himself at his desk.  Here he felt stronger and more at ease for his back being turned to the window, his face was half hidden in shadow; and in case of need, he could, by bending over his papers, conceal any sign of surprise or discomfiture.

The prisoner, on the contrary, stood in the full light, and not a movement of his features, not the fluttering of an eyelid could escape the magistrate’s attention.  He seemed to have completely recovered from his indisposition; and his features assumed an expression which indicated either careless indifference, or complete resignation.

“Do you feel better?” asked M. Segmuller.

“I feel very well.”

“I hope,” continued the magistrate, paternally, “that in future you will know how to moderate your excitement.  Yesterday you tried to destroy yourself.  It would have been another great crime added to many others—­a crime which—­”

With a hasty movement of the hand, the prisoner interrupted him.  “I have committed no crime,” said he, in a rough, but no longer threatening voice.  “I was attacked, and I defended myself.  Any one has a right to do that.  There were three men against me.  It was a great misfortune; and I would give my right hand to repair it; but my conscience does not reproach me—­that much!”