adelon's nameless
sufferings, and quite disposed to believe in poor Olivier's innocence,
made inquiries, and found everything confirmed which Madelon had said
as to the domestic relations between the master and his workman. The
people of the house and the neighbours all gave Olivier the character
of being the very model of good, steady, exemplary behaviour. No one
knew anything whatever against him, and yet, when the crime was alluded
to, every one shrugged his shoulders, and thought there was something
incomprehensible about that.

Olivier, brought before the Chambre Ardente, denied--as Mademoiselle
Scuderi learned--with the utmost steadfastness the crime of which he
was accused, and maintained that his master had been attacked in the
street in his presence, and borne down, and that he had carried him
home still alive, although he did not long survive. This agreed with
Madelon's statement.

Over and over again Mademoiselle Scuderi had the very minutest
circumstances of the awful event related to her. She specially inquired
if there had ever been any quarrel between Olivier and the father,
whether Olivier was altogether exempt from that propensity to hastiness
which often attacks the best tempered people like a blind madness, and
leads them to commit deeds which seem to exclude all voluntariness of
action; but the more enthusiastically Madelon spoke of the peaceful
home-life which the three had led together, united in the most sincere
affection, the more did every vestige of suspicion against Olivier
disappear from her mind. Closely examining and considering everything,
starting from the assumption that, notwithstanding all that spoke so
loudly for his innocence, Olivier yet _had_ been Cardillac's murderer,
Mademoiselle Scuderi could find, in all the realm of possibility, no
motive for the terrible deed, which, in any case, was bound to destroy
his happiness. Poor, though skilful, he succeeds in gaining the good
will of the most renowned of masters; he loves the daughter--his master
favours his love. Happiness, good fortune for the rest of his life
are laid open before him. Supposing, then, that--God knows on what
impulse--overpowered by anger, he should have made this murderous
attack on his master, what diabolical hyprocrisy it required to
conduct himself after the deed as he had done. With the firmest
conviction of his innocence, Mademoiselle Scuderi came to the
resolution to save Olivier at whatever cost.

It se