say yourself that the Bancal house is
dilapidated, that one can look into Bancal's room from the Spaniards'
dwelling through the rotten boards; why, then, did Monsieur Saavedra
hear nothing! Aha, he slept! A sound sleep, that. Or is he likewise, in
the conspiracy, like my mother, my sister, my sweetheart, my faithful
servants? And admitting all, were not the Bancal couple sufficient to
help kill a feeble old man and dispose of his body; did I have to fetch
half a dozen suspicious fellows, besides, from the taverns? Why did not
my uncle cry out? He was gagged; well and good; but the gag was found
in the yard. Then he did scream, after all, when the gag was removed,
and I had the organ-grinders play. But such organs are noisy and draw
people to the windows and into the street. And why butcher the victim,
since so many strong men could easily have strangled him? Show me the
medical report. Monsieur, does it not speak of a gash rather than a
stab? And what twaddle, that about the funeral train, what betraying
arrangements in a country where every sign-post has eyes! I am accused
of having rushed into my uncle's house the following day and stolen
some papers. Where are those papers? My uncle died almost poor. His
claim against me was transferred to President Seguret. Why, then, the
deed? What do they want with me? Who that has eyes sees my hands
stained?"

This language was defiant. It aroused the displeasure of the court and
increased the hatred of the multitude, whom it reached in garbled
shape. Through fear of the people, no lawyer dared undertake Bastide
Grammont's defense. Monsieur Pinaud, who alone had the courage to point
out the improbabilities and the fantastic origin of most of the
testimony, came near paying with his life for his zeal for truth. One
night a mob, including some peasants, marched to his house, smashed his
windows, demolished the gate, and set fire to the steps. The terrified
man made his escape with difficulty, and fled to Toulouse.

Bastide Grammont clearly recognized that, for the present, it was
useless to offer any resistance; he determined, therefore, to transform
all his valor into patience and keep his lips closed as if they were
doors through which his hopes might take flight. He, the freest of men,
had to pass the radiant spring days, the fragrant summer nights, in a
damp hole which rendered one's own breath offensive; he, to whom
animals spoke, for whom flowers had eyes, the earth at tim