d fell into the pool of Wahlenfer's
blood. "It was," he said to me, "the punishment of my thoughts." When
he recovered consciousness he was in the public room, seated on a
chair, surrounded by French soldiers, and in presence of a curious and
observing crowd. He gazed stupidly at a Republican officer engaged
in taking the testimony of several witnesses, and in writing down, no
doubt, the "proces-verbal." He recognized the landlord, his wife, the
two boatmen, and the servant of the Red Inn. The surgical instrument
which the murderer had used--

[Here Monsieur Taillefer coughed, drew out his handkerchief to blow
his nose, and wiped his forehead. These perfectly natural motions
were noticed by me only; the other guests sat with their eyes fixed on
Monsieur Hermann, to whom they were listening with a sort of avidity.
The purveyor leaned his elbow on the table, put his head into his right
hand and gazed fixedly at Hermann. From that moment he showed no other
sign of emotion or interest, but his face remained passive and
ghastly, as it was when I first saw him playing with the stopper of the
decanter.]

The surgical instrument which the murderer had used was on the table
with the case containing the rest of the instruments, together with
Prosper's purse and papers. The gaze of the assembled crowd turned
alternately from these convicting articles to the young man, who seemed
to be dying and whose half-extinguished eyes apparently saw nothing. A
confused murmur which was heard without proved the presence of a crowd,
drawn to the neighborhood of the inn by the news of the crime, and also
perhaps by a desire to see the murderer. The step of the sentries
placed beneath the windows of the public room and the rattle of their
accoutrements could be heard above the talk of the populace; but the inn
was closed and the courtyard was empty and silent.

Incapable of sustaining the glance of the officer who was gathering his
testimony, Prosper Magnan suddenly felt his hand pressed by a man, and
he raised his eyes to see who his protector could be in that crowd
of enemies. He recognized by his uniform the surgeon-major of the
demi-brigade then stationed at Andernach. The glance of that man was so
piercing, so stern, that the poor young fellow shuddered, and suffered
his head to fall on the back of his chair. A soldier put vinegar to his
nostrils and he recovered consciousness. Nevertheless his haggard eyes
were so devoid of life and inte