human body end by growing
callous, what becomes of those of the judge who is incessantly compelled
to search the inner folds of the soul? Martyrs to their mission,
magistrates are all their lives in mourning for their lost illusions;
crime weighs no less heavily on them than on the criminal. An old man
seated on the bench is venerable, but a young judge makes a thoughtful
person shudder. The examining judge in this case was young, and he felt
obliged to say to the public prosecutor,--

"Do you think that woman was her husband's accomplice? Ought we to take
her into custody? Is it best to question her?"

The prosecutor replied, with a careless shrug of his shoulders,--

"Montefiore and Diard were two well-known scoundrels. The maid evidently
knew nothing of the crime. Better let the thing rest there."

The doctor performed the autopsy, and dictated his report to the
sheriff. Suddenly he stopped, and hastily entered the next room.

"Madame--" he said.

Juana, who had removed her bloody gown, came towards him.

"It was you," he whispered, stooping to her ear, "who killed your
husband."

"Yes, monsieur," she replied.

The doctor returned and continued his dictation as follows,--

"And, from the above assemblage of facts, it appears evident that the
said Diard killed himself voluntarily and by his own hand."

"Have you finished?" he said to the sheriff after a pause.

"Yes," replied the writer.

The doctor signed the report. Juana, who had followed him into the room,
gave him one glance, repressing with difficulty the tears which for an
instant rose into her eyes and moistened them.

"Messieurs," she said to the public prosecutor and the judge, "I am a
stranger here, and a Spaniard. I am ignorant of the laws, and I know
no one in Bordeaux. I ask of you one kindness: enable me to obtain a
passport for Spain."

"One moment!" cried the examining judge. "Madame, what has become of the
money stolen from the Marquis de Montefiore?"

"Monsieur Diard," she replied, "said something to me vaguely about a
heap of stones, under which he must have hidden it."

"Where?"

"In the street."

The two magistrates looked at each other. Juana made a noble gesture and
motioned to the doctor.

"Monsieur," she said in his ear, "can I be suspected of some infamous
action? I! The pile of stones must be close to the wall of my garden. Go
yourself, I implore you. Look, search, find that money."

The doctor went out, taking w