that hour. In a place where gossip lives for three days upon the last
new dress from Paris, such an opportunity for a little excitement was
not to be neglected. No one thought for a moment of what the poor old
lady would probably feel upon being compelled thus to face a whole
town; for at Sauveterre curiosity has at least the merit, that it is not
hypocritical. Everybody is openly indiscreet, and by no means ashamed
of it. They place themselves right in front of you, and look at you, and
try to find out the secret of your joy or your grief.

It must be borne in mind, however, that public opinion was running
strongly against M. de Boiscoran. If there had been nothing against him
but the fire at Valpinson, and the attempts upon Count Claudieuse,
that would have been a small matter. But the fire had had terrible
consequences. Two men had perished in it; and two others had been so
severely wounded as to put their lives in jeopardy. Only the evening
before, a sad procession had passed through the streets of Sauveterre.
In a cart covered with a cloth, and followed by two priests, the almost
carbonized remains of Bolton the drummer, and of poor Guillebault, had
been brought home. The whole city had seen the widow go to the mayor's
office, holding in her arms her youngest child, while the four others
clung to her dress.

All these misfortunes were traced back to Jacques, who was loaded
with curses; and the people now thought of receiving his mother, the
marchioness, with fierce hootings.

"There she is, there she is!" they said in the crowd, when she appeared
in the station, leaning upon M. Folgat's arm.

But they did not say another word, so great was their surprise at her
appearance. Immediately two parties were formed. "She puts a bold face
on it," said some; while others declared, "She is quite sure of her
son's innocence."

At all events, she had presence of mind enough to see what an impression
she produced, and how well she had done to follow M. Folgat's advice.
It gave her additional strength. As she distinguished in the crowd some
people whom she knew, she went up to them, and, smiling, said,--

"Well, you know what has happened to us. It is unheard of! Here is the
liberty of a man like my son at the mercy of the first foolish notion
that enters the head of a magistrate. I heard the news yesterday by
telegram, and came down at once with this gentleman, a friend of ours,
and one of the first lawyers of Paris."