ntry as well as in the city, cried out,--

"And why not?"

These few words opened at once a door to all kinds of bold guesses.

Everybody had heard something about the quarrel between Count Claudieuse
and M. de Boiscoran. It was well known, moreover, that the provocation
had always come from the count, and that the latter had invariably given
way in the end. Why, therefore, might not M. de Boiscoran, impatient at
last, have resorted to such means in order to avenge himself on a man
whom they thought he must needs hate, and whom he probably feared at the
same time?

"Perhaps he would not do it, because he is a nobleman, and because he is
rich?" they added sneeringly.

The next step was, of course, to look out for circumstances which might
support such a theory; and the opportunity was not lacking. Groups were
formed; and soon two men and a woman declared aloud that they could
astonish the world if they chose to talk. They were urged to tell what
they knew; and, of course, they refused. But they had said too much
already. Willing or not willing, they were carried up to the house,
where, at that very moment, M. Galpin was examining Count Claudieuse.
The excited crowd made such a disturbance, that M. Seneschal, trembling
at the idea of a new accident, rushed out to the door.

"What is it now?" he asked.

"More witnesses," replied the peasants. "Here are some more witnesses."

The mayor turned round, and, after having exchanged glances with M.
Daubigeon, he said to the magistrate,--

"They are bringing you some more witnesses, sir."

No doubt M. Galpin was little pleased at the interruption; but he knew
the people well enough to bear in mind, that, unless he took them at the
moment when they were willing to talk, he might never be able to get any
thing out of them at any other time.

"We shall return some other time to our conversation," he said to Count
Claudieuse.

Then, replying to M. Seneschal, he said,--

"Let the witnesses come in, but one by one."

The first who entered was the only son of a well-to-do farmer in
the village of Brechy, called Ribot. He was a young fellow of about
twenty-five, broad-shouldered, with a very small head, a low brow, and
formidable crimson ears. For twenty miles all around, he was reputed to
be an irresistible beau,--a reputation of which he was very proud.
After having asked him his name, his first names, and his age, M. Galpin
said,--

"What do you know?"

The young m