The bewildered druggist answered:
“Yes—but I did not tell on him—I
haven’t said a word—I swear it—he
has served me excellently from that time on—”
The officer pronounced severely:
“I will take down your testimony. The law
will take notice of this new action, of which it was
ignorant, Monsieur Marambot. I was commissioned
to arrest your servant for the theft of two ducks surreptitiously
taken by him from M. Duhamel of which act there are
witnesses. I shall make a note of your information.”
Then, turning toward his men, he ordered:
“Come on, bring him along!”
The two gendarmes dragged Denis out.
The lawyer used a plea of insanity, contrasting the
two misdeeds in order to strengthen his argument.
He had clearly proved that the theft of the two ducks
came from the same mental condition as the eight knife-wounds
in the body of Maramlot. He had cunningly analyzed
all the phases of this transitory condition of mental
aberration, which could, doubtless, be cured by a
few months’ treatment in a reputable sanatorium.
He had spoken in enthusiastic terms of the continued
devotion of this faithful servant, of the care with
which he had surrounded his master, wounded by him
in a moment of alienation.
Touched by this memory, M. Marambot felt the tears
rising to his eyes.
The lawyer noticed it, opened his arms with a broad
gesture, spreading out the long black sleeves of his
robe like the wings of a bat, and exclaimed:
“Look, look, gentleman of the jury, look at
those tears. What more can I say for my client?
What speech, what argument, what reasoning would be
worth these tears of his master? They, speak louder
than I do, louder than the law; they cry: ’Mercy,
for the poor wandering mind of a while ago! They
implore, they pardon, they bless!”
He was silent and sat down.
Then the judge, turning to Marambot, whose testimony
had been excellent for his servant, asked him:
“But, monsieur, even admitting that you consider
this man insane, that does not explain why you should
have kept him. He was none the less dangerous.”
Marambot, wiping his eyes, answered:
“Well, your honor, what can you expect?
Nowadays it’s so hard to find good servants—I
could never have found a better one.”
Denis was acquitted and put in a sanatorium at his
master’s expense.
It had been a stag dinner. These men still came
together once in a while without their wives as they
had done when they were bachelors. They would
eat for a long time, drink for a long time; they would
talk of everything, stir up those old and joyful memories
which bring a smile to the lip and a tremor to the
heart. One of them was saying: “Georges,
do you remember our excursion to Saint-Germain with
those two little girls from Montmartre?”
