“I rang for Rose, who immediately appeared.
She had hardly entered the room, when the inspector
made a motion, and two men whom I had not seen, hidden
behind the door, sprang forward, seized her and tied
her hands behind her back.
“I cried out in anger and tried to rush forward
to defend her. The inspector stopped me:
“’This girl, madame, is a man whose name
is Jean Nicolas Lecapet, condemned to death in 1879
for assaulting a woman and injuring her so that death
resulted. His sentence was commuted to imprisonment
for life. He escaped four months ago. We
have been looking for him ever since.’
“I was terrified, bewildered. I did not
believe him. The commissioner continued, laughing:
“‘I can prove it to you. His right
arm is tattooed.’
“’The sleeve was rolled up. It was
true. The inspector added, with bad taste:
“‘You can trust us for the other proofs.’
“And they led my maid away!
“Well, would you believe me, the thing that
moved me most was not anger at having thus been played
upon, deceived and made ridiculous, it was not the
shame of having thus been dressed and undressed, handled
and touched by this man—but a deep humiliation—a
woman’s humiliation. Do you understand?”
“I am afraid I don’t.”
“Just think—this man had been condemned
for—for assaulting a woman. Well!
I thought of the one whom he had assaulted—and—and
I felt humiliated—There! Do you understand
now?”
Madame Margot did not answer. She was looking
straight ahead, her eyes fastened on the two shining
buttons of the livery, with that sphinx-like smile
which women sometimes have.
There was a real mystery in this affair which neither
the jury, nor the president, nor the public prosecutor
himself could understand.
The girl Prudent (Rosalie), servant at the Varambots’,
of Nantes, having become enceinte without the knowledge
of her masters, had, during the night, killed and
buried her child in the garden.
It was the usual story of the infanticides committed
by servant girls. But there was one inexplicable
circumstance about this one. When the police
searched the girl Prudent’s room they discovered
a complete infant’s outfit, made by Rosalie
herself, who had spent her nights for the last three
months in cutting and sewing it. The grocer from
whom she had bought her candles, out of her own wages,
for this long piece of work had come to testify.
It came out, moreover, that the sage-femme of the
district, informed by Rosalie of her condition, had
given her all necessary instructions and counsel in
case the event should happen at a time when it might
not be possible to get help. She had also procured
a place at Poissy for the girl Prudent, who foresaw
that her present employers would discharge her, for
the Varambot couple did not trifle with morality.
