less
had a sensation of passionate kisses being pressed upon her lips, and
there was a stirring in her body as of life taking shape.

This strange mood and agitation endured for days afterward. A silvery
veil lay between her and the world. For fear of rending it, she spoke
in low tones and walked with measured steps; beyond it, the sun had no
more illuminating power than the moon. When, on the evening before the
trial, she was returning from a stroll in the fields, she saw two women
standing in the gateway of the chateau. One of them hurried forward to
meet her, threw herself on her knees and seized her hands. It was
Charlotte Arlabosse. "What have you done?" murmured the beautiful girl,
panting. "He is innocent, by Christ's Passion, he is innocent! Have
mercy, Madame, even if not upon me, at least upon his old mother!"

The crimson of the setting sun lit up her features, distorted by grief.
Behind Charlotte there stood a lady of portly build, with great warts
on her hands; yet her face was thin, and her countenance as motionless
as that of the dead. She resembled a tree exuberant in strength, whose
crown is blighted.

Clarissa made a deprecatory gesture, yet she retained a friendly and
calm air. A second later, she thought she beheld herself in the
kneeling figure, beheld her double; and a cruel triumph filled her
heart. "Have no care, my child," said she, smiling, in a low voice; "as
far as Bastide is concerned, everything is already settled." Thereupon
she opened the gate and walked into the house. Charlotte arose and
gazed motionless through the grating.

That night Clarissa retired early, but she awoke at four o'clock and
began dressing. She selected a black velvet dress, and, as her only
ornament, she fastened a diamond star in the edge of it at her bare
neck. Her heart beat faster the nearer the hour approached. At eight
o'clock the carriage drew up; it was a long drive to Alby, where the
Court of Assizes sat. Monsieur Seguret had ridden away early in the
morning, nobody knew whither.

The walls of the old town had hardly come in sight before such a mass
of people was to be seen on the road that the horses were obliged to
slacken their pace. They surrounded the carriage and gazed with
strained attention into the open windows; women lifted up their
children that they, too, might see the famous Madame Mirabel. She did
not seek to escape the general curiosity; with the happy smile of a
bride she sat there, her