er from you informing me of the impending arrival of your
wife and son. I received them in my own house, and showed them the same
hospitality which I had received from you. I saw them both, your son
often, your wife every day, until the day she left me to go to
Versailles. Yes, I also took Edouard to his mother, who was negotiating
an appointment for him. I have already told you all this, and I repeat
it because it is the truth. You believed me then: why do you not believe
me now? Why has what I say become strange and incredible? If your wife
and your son have disappeared, am I responsible? Did you transmit your
authority to me? And now, in what manner are you thus calling me to
account? Is it to the friend who might have pitied, who might have aided
your search, that you thus address yourself? Have you come to confide in
me, to ask for advice, for consolation? No, you accuse me; very well!
then I refuse to speak, because, having no proofs, you yet accuse an
honest man; because your fears, whether real or imaginary, do not excuse
you for casting, I know not what odious suspicions, on a blameless
reputation, because I have the right to be offended. Monsieur" he
continued, turning to the magistrate, "I believe you will appreciate my
moderation, and will allow me to retire. If charges are brought against
me, I am quite ready to meet them, and to show what they are really
worth. I shall remain in Paris, I have now no business which requires my
presence elsewhere."

He emphasised these last words, evidently intending to draw attention to
them. It did not escape the magistrate, who inquired--

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing beyond my words, your Honour, Have I your permission to retire?"

"No, remain; you are pretending not to understand."

"I do not understand these insinuations so covertly made."

Monsieur de Lamotte rose, exclaiming--

"Insinuations! What more can I say to compel you to answer? My wife and
son have disappeared. It is untrue that, as you pretend, they have been
at Versailles. You deceived me at Buisson-Souef, just as you are
deceiving me now, as you are endeavouring to deceive justice by inventing
fresh lies. Where are they? What has become of them? I am tormented by
all the fears possible to a husband and father; I imagine all the most
terrible misfortunes, and I accuse you to your face of having caused
their death! Is this sufficient, or do you still accuse me of covert