reigned, all eyes
were burning. Clarissa seemed to hear the hundred hearts beat like so
many hammers; she grew hot and cold, every feeling of the real present
vanished, and when, in the ensuing interval. Captain Clemendot in his
half humble, half impudent way became importunate, a shudder ran
through her body, and at the fumes of wine which he exhaled she came
near fainting. Suddenly she threw back her head, fixed her gaze upon
his muddled, besotted countenance and asked in a low, sharp, hurried
tone: "What would you say, Captain, if it were I--I--who was present at
the Bancal house?"

Captain Clemendot turned pale. His mouth opened slowly, his cheeks
quivered, his eyes glistened with fear, and when Clarissa broke into a
soft, mocking, but not quite natural, laugh, he rose and, with an
embarrassed farewell, left her. He was a simple man, as illiterate as a
drummer, and, like everybody else in Rodez, completely under the sway
of the blood-curdling reports. When the performance was at an end, he
approached Clarissa, who, with an impassive air, was making her way to
the exit, and asked whether she had been trying to jest with him, and
she, her lips dry, and something like a prying hatred in her eyes,
answered, laughing again: "No, no, Captain." After that her face
resumed its earnest, almost sad, expression and her head dropped on her
breast.

Clemendot went home with a disturbed mind, thoroughly convinced that he
had received an important confession. He felt in duty bound to speak
out, and unbosomed himself next morning to a comrade. The latter drew a
second friend into the secret, they deliberated together, and by noon
the magistrate had been informed. Monsieur Jausion had the Captain and
Madame Mirabel summoned. After long and singular reflection Clarissa
declared that the whole thing was a joke, and the magistrate was
obliged to dismiss her for the present.

It was not joking, however, that the gentlemen wanted, but earnest. The
Prefect, advised of what had happened, called in the evening on
President Seguret and had a brief interview with the worthy man, who,
shaken to his inmost soul, had to learn what a disgrace, to himself and
her, his daughter had conjured up, menacing thus the peace of his old
age. Clarissa was called in; she stood as if deprived of life before
the two aged men, and the grief which spoke in her father's every
motion and feature struck her heart with sorrow. She pleaded the
thoughtlessness of