Alexandre Bisson

“ Noel was silent for a moment; and when he spoke his voice was vibrant with the emotion that the memory of that terrible night awoke.
"I was there that day, Jacqueline, after you had gone," he said. "I saw his grief—and his repentance. I heard him curse his anger and his pride. And since then he—we have searched the world for you. For twenty years he has not had a thought that was not of you, and in those twenty years he has never known peace or happiness. Ah! Jacqueline, dearest, I believe he has suffered even more than you have!" ”

“ M. Floriot gazed into the eyes that were so like the lost woman's, and all the love and yearning that he had ever felt for mother and son shone in his own. He stepped up to the boy and laid a hand affectionately on his shoulder. Raymond felt the grip of the fingers as his father began to speak.
"My boy," he said, in grave, gentle tones, "you're a good fellow, and you've been the one joy of my life. I think Helene is worthy of you. Love her, my lad! And love her always—whatever happens! Be her friend, her guide, her mainstay—as well as her husband. ”

“ Chennel, old man!" he cried, miserably, laying his hand on his friend's arm, "you can't guess how horribly unhappy I am!"
"Then—you—you love her still?" asked the doctor, gently. Floriot bowed his head to conceal the agony written on his face and threw up a hand in a gesture of despair.
"I can think of no other woman! God knows, I have tried hard to forget her! She was the whole joy of my life—my life itself! I cannot tell you how I suffered. I would have died if I had dared. But I thought of the child, and that saved me from suicide. ”

“ It, alone of earthly ties, takes no count of Time or Space, and joy and degradation and wealth and want and woe alike are powerless to loosen. It has been called the only unselfish love, but it is not that. For, "damned in body and soul," the boy clings to his mother as to a promise of salvation; and a mother, dying in shame and despair, yet sees in her child—Immortality!...
As if it had needed but that touch of the fingers to draw the cord tightly around his heart, Raymond felt for a moment that his soul was going out to the wretched woman that he had never seen until that day. ”

“ Noel was motionless; and, after a few more turns up and down the room, Floriot went on:
"I know that she must have loved me, or why should she have married me? If she wanted position she could have married men farther up in the world than I was—than I am now. If she wanted money she could have married a bigger bank account than mine. No! She loved me—for a year. You said she was not naturally wicked. She was nothing else. Her love is a passion that bums itself out in a year and she will probably have a dozen lovers before she dies!" ”

“ My voice is trembling—and it is all that I can do to keep from breaking down and crying like a child instead of pleading for my client—here before you. I crave your indulgence for this weakness—but it does not make me blush!" He threw back his head, and at last he saw the jurors clearly before him.
"It is the first time in my life that I have come close to the bitterness of a woman's grief and misery and—my heart is tom by the fear that I shall not be able to prove myself equal to the noble task that I have undertaken!" ”

“ M. Valmorin rose slowly and bowed to the President, and then to the jury. It was an old story with him—the murder of a degenerate man by a fallen woman. He had only to go over an old formula.
"There you are!" whispered M. Perissard to his colleague. "It is practically over!"
"Gentlemen of the jury, I shall not keep you long," began M. Valmorin, in a gentle, pleasant voice. "The crime on which you have to give your verdict is simple and baneful. The woman has killed her lover—but who is this woman? What is her real name? Where does she come from? Who is she? We do not know! ”

“ Jacqueline, her knees trembling, dropped weakly into a chair and strove to compose herself for the terrible interview to come. In returning she had had no hope of forgiveness, for she had not believed that her husband had ever truly loved her. But now that she had gained hope from Rose's story of his grief her emotions were beyond control.
There was no natural vice in her, and for that reason she had walked in the purgatory of the fallen who are still permitted to see themselves with the eyes of the virtuous. Vice breeds callousness. ”

“ Noel glanced quickly at his friend in his seat behind the judges to see if he, too, had recognized "the woman, Laroque."
Floriot's face was buried in his hands. He pressed a handkerchief so tightly to his eyes that Noel fancied he could see the whiteness of the nails. Any great blow—mental or physical—is immediately followed by a practically complete cessation of all activity of the senses. The mind —if it works at all—revolves around singular and ridiculous trifles, utterly foreign to the disaster or its effect. It was this condition that the recognition of Jacqueline left her husband. ”

“ The last words were lost in a frightful shriek from the prisoner.
"No! No! No!" she screamed, struggling in the grip of the two guards as she tried to throw herself out of the dock. "Let me die! I want to, die! I want to die!"
In an instant the court was again in an uproar with oaths, cries of anger, and shrieks of women. The crowd swept forward to the railing.
"Clear the court!" roared the President; and the gendarmes threw themselves into the press, driving the packed men and women toward the exits. The din was terrific, and above it all rose Jacqueline's screams. ”

“ Louis Floriot thought often of the queer old legend in the dark years that followed that night in the house at Passy. Some one once said that the greatest hell on earth is reserved for the man who returns to his empty house from his wife's funeral and begins to ask himself whether he was or was not responsible for her death. But there is one even more terrible than that—believing that he is in a large measure responsible for her shame. And Louis Floriot stretched himself on that bed of torture every night of his life. ”

“ She paused with a gasp and swallowed hard. Floriot sat with his face in his hands and his heaving shoulders told the story of his agony. Rose and Helene, their heads close together, were openly crying, and there were sounds of sobbing and snuffling from all over the room. The jury sat; like twelve men hypnotized. Raymond stood looking up into her face, while a hundred emotions swept him. The feeling of pity, the desire to comfort, that had moved him when she pressed his hand, returned with reawakened force. ”

“ Even Marie knew enough of the world to place her at once in a calling that is older than the profession of arms. In her face, glance and walk she bore the brand that Nature places on those who "eat the bread of infamy and take the wage of shame." But what Marie did not understand was the unearthly, almost translucent, pallor of her face and the peculiar delicacy of the pouches under the eyes—the hall-marks of the drug slave. ”

“ But when I told him that my lover was dead he thought that was the only reason that I had returned to him and he went mad with rage. In spite of my tears and struggles he pushed me out of the house and—and—and—I had lost—my boy—forever!..."
"You remember that, d'you hear?" she demanded. "You can kill a man, and if you've any sort of reason everybody may forgive. But if you're untrue to your husband—it doesn't make any difference how much reason you have—every-body'll kick you...." ”

“ She killed him, because taking his life was the only way she could prevent an infamy that would have brought shame land despair on some one she loved!
"Does this not explain the insistency of her silence? This woman, this poor wreck, who has been beaten down to the lowest rungs of the ladder of physical and moral misery, this wretched creature—loves! Good women will sweep their skirts from her touch in the streets, but love is in her heart, and the happiness of him or her whom she loves is dearer to her than her own life! ”

“ Although he had been up most of the night at work on his speech, Maître Raymond Floriot was among the early arrivals at court the next morning. His unlined, youthful face wore an expression of grave responsibility as incongruous as his black advocate's gown when he took his seat at his desk.
The more he had hammered at his appeal to the jury the more he realized that in the strength of his speech lay his one hope of victory. All the evidence would be against him. He did not expect to profit much by cross-examination. The affair was too simple. He must move the jury to pity. ”

“ The prisoner was slowly rising. Her body was tense, and she leaned forward out of the dock with one rigid arm pointing at Perissard. With the black garb, livid face, and burning eyes and the clawlike hand pointing at the witness—whose fat pink cheeks had suddenly paled—she was like some uncanny sibyl about to launch a curse.
"But I know you!" she cried in a hoarse voice that carried to the farthest corner. "You are the real cause of the murder!" ”

“ You might have saved her from her future and you have given her the first push down the hill that leads—we both know where! Wait! Listen to me! You are a public servant. When you plead against a criminal you ask for a verdict and a sentence in proportion to the crime committed. Your wife loved you and gave you a son. She sinned against you and is sorry for her sin, and yet"—his voice rose with bitter passion—"and yet you have sentenced her to misery, despair and death!"
A growing fright was driving the angry gleam from Floriot's eyes as he raised his hand in protest. ”

“ His voice startled her like a pistol shot. But she stammered on:
"Forgive me, Louis, so——"
He slammed the door and in two strides was standing over with clenched fists. She could not meet his furious eyes and her head bowed almost to his feet.
"Forgive you! Forgive you!" and he laughed a short, bitter laugh that was more terrible and hope-destroying than curses would have been to the crouching woman. "For two years I have lived day and night with the thought of you in another man's arms and your kisses on his lips! And you ask me to forgive you! You——"
"Louis! Louis!" she moaned. ”

“ Floriot's voice was hoarse with anguish. "I have been tom with jealousy and dreams of vengeance and tortured almost beyond endurance by the memory of the happiness I have lost!" He dropped, shuddering, into a chair, his handkerchief pressed to his face. Noel gazed at him in pitying silence for several minutes. Then he spoke as gently as before.
"And yet, she was not wicked," he said, and Floriot writhed. "She was only frivolous and wanted luxury and pleasure. Life was too serious a problem for her. ”

“ I used to be a lawyer's clerk—old Perissard's clerk—and look at me now! Take the times as they come, old girl, and money when you can get your hands on it! That's my motto—money's the only thing that matters!"
She turned her head slowly toward him with a contemptuous look.
"Oh, I know you'd do anything for money!"
M. Laroque shrugged his shoulders.
"Better that than do nothing and get nothing for it," he replied with light philosophy, taking a chair at the opposite side of the table.
Victor entered with bottle of absinthe and the cigarettes and deposited them carefully between them. ”

“ My dear Laroque, I should think it did!" cried Perissard. "You will very soon find out for yourself how well it pays for I propose paying you—in addition to your salary—ten per cent upon the profits! You won't find it hard work and you won't find it difficult. Quickness, discretion and tact are all that are required. I know you pretty well, my dear friend. You are intelligent and energetic and I'm sure you are honest! Not too scrupulously so at all times—but—ah—you understand!"
"Scruples are out of date," groaned M. Merivel, shaking his head gloomily, "Ne quid nimis—the Latin again—ahem!" ”

“ There was a restless movement in the chair that Floriot did not notice.
"Noel, you can't realize the happiness of my life until I—I—learned that I was a fool! For the first year I pitied the whole world because it couldn't be as utterly happy as I was. It didn't seem possible that a man could be more completely filled with joy and content. Then our boy was born, and after that it seemed that before I had been miserable by contrast!" Anguish choked him and he was silent until he recovered control. ”

“ You will have hours of gloomy thought and bitterness, perhaps—most men do. But never forget in those unhappy hours that a husband has a heavy responsibility. Always remember, Raymond, my boy, that you are responsible for the life and soul and happiness of the woman who gives herself to you! ”