He assured the police, examining magistrates and witnesses of his innocence. His assurances were so believable that the examining magistrate was often moved by them and wished nothing more than that they could be proved. But there was a great deal of convincing evidence against the accused, so that the sentence of death could without doubt be passed upon it: his name under the letter by which the poison had been ordered from the apothecary, the poison found in the smoking-room, and the half-letter to Rose Marie, showing the motive for the murder, the presence of the servant when he gave the drink to Miralez, as well as the surprise of meeting Rose-Marie at his place. Mrs. Manzanil testified,
Prison life and binding testimony in court about his guilt crippled him so much that Etienne himself began to feel guilty. Perhaps it was the memory of his love that gave him the strength to refuse to confess his guilt, to which he was equally urged.
He tried to think of defense witnesses, but he couldn't come up with anyone. He got a lawyer, who immediately found Rose-Marie, a sick widow,
to be an impressive witness .
But he was staying with his parents in
Barcelona and was thought to be dying from his wounds.
The court agreed to adjourn the case until January.
But a year passed and nothing was heard from Mrs. Miralez. Etienne wrote him desperate letters, but no answer came. At last Etienne began to hate her, that woman who had only spread misfortune around her and now wanted to leave her too to be executed by the hangman.
The weeks had passed and January 21 was upon us. One morning, Etienne was called from his booth and taken to court. The statement of claim was read. But Etienne certainly denied his guilt. He was not Mrs. Miralez's lover, he had never intended to marry her. The presiding judge showed him pieces of evidence: a letter, a bottle, a cup, and finally crooned:
— Let Jyry judge the matter.
- But I have never addressed this letter to Mrs. Miralez - exclaimed Etienne.
— To whom, then?
— To Miss Sartilly!
— Was the envelope also intended for Miss Sartilly?
— This envelope is the envelope of an ordinary business letter which I sent
from Marseilles to Mrs. Miralez.
This caused laughter in the audience. Likewise, the claim that Mrs. Miralez could come out of his room with her hair scattered without still being his mistress.
Etienne's strength began to fail. — The witnesses came inside. Now he was to receive his sentence. He remembered Geneviève, he had seen a spring in the forest, at the edge of which the girl he loved had confessed that she always loved him, he remembered a tree pruned for shade, he had heard a song at its foot. And he thanked his Creator for the happiness he had felt then.
At the same time, a hand landed on his arm. He turned and saw his lawyer.
— Mrs. Miralez has come! — he said. He has sent me his card.
— Mr. President — said the lawyer to the court — I ask to read the card I just received: »Mrs. Miralez, who arrived in Bordeaux this morning, requests to be questioned in court. He can leave important information with the court and wait in the anteroom.
The words caused movement in the courtroom.
— The beautiful Mrs. Miralez.
— The Rose of Granada!
— Now we see him!
The chairman demanded silence.
— Bring in Mrs. Miralez! — he said to the watchman.
XXXI.
A tumult ensued, which continued to increase. A janitor called for silence.
We saw a thin, ugly, limping woman, a long scar on her right cheek. Had that been called the Rose of Granada? Everyone was stunned and one member of the court was seen grinning.
Etienne looked at the woman whom he could not immediately recognize as Madame Miralez, for so much had been formed by the long illness.
Mrs. Miralez guessed the effect the audience had on her and blushed, her eyes filled with tears. Etienne noticed the tears welling up and was ready to forgive him.
— Mrs. Miralez — began the chairman — it is your turn to explain what you know about the present poisoning crime, as a result of which your husband died and your former lover Etienne Hontarrède was put on the dock.
Rose-Marieta shuddered when she heard these harsh words. He understood that everyone here was hostile to him, regarding him as complicit in the crime. After drying her tears, she said in a moved but audible voice:
— Mr. President, Etienne Hontarrède has never been my lover.
Suspicious boos could be heard in the courtroom.
— We know that kind of thing — muttered one young lawyer, twisting his mustache.
But Rose-Marie continued resolutely:
— If I had not been forced to be in a sick bed for four months due to the wounds I received on August 15, Mr. Hontarrède would not have been accused of such a disgusting crime as he is now accused of. For several weeks I have been going through the stages of life and death, while staying with my parents in Barcelona. I have not been informed of my husband's death or of Mr. Hontarrède's imprisonment. They were afraid that this information would have put my life in danger. It wasn't until the first of January that I found out from the newspapers what had happened in France at the end of the year. As soon as I could, I traveled to the Gironde, where I arrived last week. Before, I couldn't come here because I had to get all the evidence that was available to me to show that Mr. Hontarrède was innocent. And now, Mr. President,
There was general movement again in the courtroom. Everyone was amazed. A few people's faces showed disbelief, while others felt compassion.
The young widow was very moved. His left hand trembled with nervousness, and his right hand took the handkerchief sometimes to his eyes, sometimes to his lips. Now he continued:
— Mr. President, if anyone is a criminal, it is me, not Mr. Hontarrède. And since I have sworn to tell everything without hiding anything, you can hear my story. Mr. President! I have never been Mr. Hontarrède's mistress, but I have loved him very much.
Now his speech broke off into sobs. Many of the listeners started to get tears in their eyes.
— I have loved Mr. Etienne very much — continued Mrs. Miralez again — and I have been jealous of him. I knew that he wanted to marry a young girl, and I did everything in my power to prevent him from this marriage. Therein lies my crime; that's the evil deed, which is why the so-called "Sargos drama".
— I would like to believe you — said the chairman — but words alone do not mean anything here, proof is required.
— I have them, — said Rose-Marie, at the same time taking out a purse from her purse. — My husband's suspicion of my unfaithfulness to him was aroused by a half letter which Lorenzo found in one of my boxes and which Mrs. Manzanil has submitted to the court. But that letter was not written to me; it was intended for Monsieur Etienne's bride. Is there a continuation here, which is not known, and which also has the name of the recipient of the real letter. You see, Mr. President, that both halves of the letter are written in the same handwriting and on the same paper. The letters in both are the same: one of them, K, begins with the half that I now leave to you. There can therefore be no doubt in the matter.
Both halves of the letter were placed side by side and the chairman now read the letter in its entirety, then handed it to the other members of the court, who in turn passed it to the public prosecutor and further to the jury. — The proof was also convincing because the torn irregularities fit together well.
The jurors were amazed, and the newspaper men asked to see the letter.
— But how could you have gotten hold of this letter if it was not written to you — asked the chairman.
— I had given orders to my chambermaid to interrupt Mr. Hontarrède's correspondence with his bride.
— It was not a pretty act. But if I take your explanation to be true, I still do not understand why you put forward the part of the letter that can incriminate you! Are you going to imagine to me that you meant to get it into your husband's hands?
— My husband could no longer leave his room and no one could have guessed that he was going up, up the stairs that led to my room. The letter was not destined to fall into the hands of my husband, but of Geneviève, Monsieur Etienne's fiancee.
— Why his?
— Because he wouldn't care about her anymore!
— That was a most valuable act! — exclaimed the chairman.
— I admit it — answered Rose-Marie, covering her eyes with her handkerchief — and I regret it with all my heart. But I loved Mr. Etienne so much!
And again she began to sob.
— I ask the gentlemen of the jury to point out that that letter proves nothing at all — said the prosecutor — not even that the witness was not the accused's mistress. If this one was wrong, they could have written other letters to each other.
— So have they been found? — asked Etienne's lawyer.
— It is possible that they have been destroyed, argued the prosecutor.
— Of course; but it would be quite strange to base an accusation on someone's supposed letters, which no one has seen or even heard of.
— Was that all you had to say — asked the chairman.
— Not all, Mr. President. With your permission, I want to testify that Monsieur Hontarrède did not love me and did not want to marry me, but hated me and wanted to move out with us after my husband's death.
Mrs. Miralez now showed Etienne's second letter to Geneviève, which was checked against the handwriting of the previous letter.
— This is good, — said the chairman — but there is one fact that speaks against you, namely, that you were seen coming from the accused's room on August 15 in a more than suspicious suit! Did that also happen with the intention of surprising the young girl?
— Yes, Mr. President.
— That answer was careless of you! You never knew when Miss Sartilly would come to Sargos. His departure was kept secret; Mrs. Manzanil has assured that.
— Mrs. Manzanil and Miss Sartilly believed so, but I had received secret information about it from Marina, Geneviève's chambermaid. This e-mail proves it!
Rose-Marie showed the emails that Dominica had received on Aug. On the morning of the 15th.
— Your testimony is indeed remarkable — said the prosecutor now — and it shows what you have been able to do. But it doesn't matter to the accused whether he was your lover or your enemy. The question is whether she poisoned your husband. Do you approve or Deny it?
Rose Marie humbly replied:
— If Monsieur Hontarrède did not love me, if after all he stayed with us out of affection for my husband and to help the price, it is very unlikely that he would have poisoned my husband. I already said that I have spent 8 days to get evidence so that a claim can be made, and since it is now a matter of poisoning, I can state who the poisoner was: it was my husband himself. Miralez committed suicide!
There was a commotion in the hall, which lasted for a long time.
But Rose-Marie continued in a sure voice, mustering all her courage:
— Forgive me if I tell the whole truth. My husband shortened his days by putting the poison himself in the cup of warm wine that Hontarrède let him hand out.
— And why would he have done that? — asked the president.
— To get revenge on him for thinking he was my lover! I have found out about the matter and I can present several testimonies that my husband wanted to kill M. Etienne; he became blocked from it until August 15th. A few days later, when he didn't dare to shoot him like that but when he met, he challenged Etienne to a duel at a distance of 20 paces. And it was no joke, for Lorenzo was a skilled and experienced marksman, while Mr. Hontarrède has never fired a pistol. But when my husband's strength failed, he drank the poison in such a way that it would appear that his wife's lover had poisoned him.
— Mrs. Miralez, you are not here as a lawyer, but as a witness.
Stick to the facts!
- I apologize. — But I can prove my word. I got valuable information from the pharmacy in Sargos, where cocaine was sold. The slip on which the poison was ordered was typewritten and signed: » Etienne Hontarrède, Sarjos ». It was not Sargos , but Sarjos. The pharmacist was puzzled by the mistake. Since the letter is probably in the court documents, the court must have noticed it.
— That's right, but what would it matter? — said the president.
— It proves that the letter written on the typewriter was written by a Spaniard, because j is the hard g sound of the Spanish language. — I can also present here the letter Lorenzo wrote to my parents, in his own handwriting, which also has Sarjos.
— The public prosecutor had nothing to remind him of this, and shouts of approval could be heard from the audience. — And Rose-Marie continued:
To confirm my testimony, I have brought with me my chambermaid, who has herself been involved in the interception of the letters and in the other events I have described. I have also managed to bring Dr. Corstalat from Sargos with me here. He has been unknown to me, but he has nevertheless told me that my husband confessed to him that he killed himself. Both of my companions are waiting in the antechamber if the court wants to question them.
— You may leave, Mrs. Miralez — said the chairman.
Rose-Marie's eyes sparkled again, although they soon filled with tears as they looked at Etienne.
— And now I ask Monsieur Hontarrède to forgive me all the evil I have caused...
— Sobs interrupted the sentence. He had also seen tears in Etienne's eyes - of gratitude and happiness.
After Mrs. Miralez left and a few hours after the court had questioned Dominica and Dr. Corstalat, the jury got to answer the question: innocent or guilty? — The answer was: »completely innocent».
XXXII.
That same evening, Etienne got his freedom. A large crowd in front of the courthouse showed their favor to the former monk, who tried to look for Rose-Marie in the crowd. However, he was nowhere to be seen. Now Etienne would have liked to express his heartfelt gratitude to his liberator. — When he was about to leave his lawyer to inquire, he noticed a carriage with two women in black.
— Do you? — he exclaimed.
— It's me — replied Rose-Marie. Despite the crowd, I've tried to follow you, and since you're finally alone now, I can send. Will you forgive me — he said, holding out his hand, which was trembling.
— If I give!
And the young man kissed her hand. But Rose-Marie pulled her hand away.
— No, you can't forgive me everything yet. You have not yet received a refund for anything I have broken. You can't say thank you until you've become Geneviève's spouse!
- What do you say? — sighed Etienne. Dear Geneviève! What must have become of him? What does he think of Lazarus? — I can no longer hope for anything from that party, I am assured of that.
— Don't say that!
— Do you know where he is today?
— I don't. But since I want to apologize to him too, we can look for him as one, if you allow it. Get on the wagon and let's talk about him!
— To the Hôtel de France! — said Mrs. Miralez to the driver.
* * * * *
After the carriage started, the lady who used to be called the Rose of Granada said:
— Monsieur Etienne, I no longer look like the old Rose-Marie; I have become the ugly you already saw in the courtroom. But instead I have become serious. I haven't fully recovered yet and I don't know if I ever will. For the rest of my life I will show you affection and friendship, and I will never speak of love to you again. That would be ridiculous, are you happy with that?
He took the young widow's hand in his and held it.
After arriving at the hotel, Etienne ordered a good dinner, which the three of them ate with good appetite.
Dominica was uneasy after having to make eye contact with the man who had been imprisoned for her sake for four months. Etienne guessed the reason for her uneasiness and said to her:
— I hope Miss Dominica doesn't hold any grudge against me.
— Ah, Monsieur Etienne — answered the young girl. — If you ever need someone willing to sacrifice their life for you, then remember Dominica Etcheto! Now my body and soul belong to you.
After saying this, he burst into tears.
* * * * *
After two days, Etienne, Rose-Marie and Dominica arrived in Bontucq. The castle was closed. Mr. Peyroux announced that no one lives in the castle today. Miss Sartilly had already traveled to a convent in Spain three months ago.
— I have now completely lost Geneviève — cried Etienne hopelessly.
— You are childish — said Rose-Marie. We won't leave it at that.
We will leave for Puyov right away.
Rose-Marie bought a travel guide, looked for the name of the monastery in it, studied the road on the map and immediately bought the tickets.
— Shall we travel to Spain? — asked Etienne.
— Of course. The three of us bring Geneviève out of the convent. When I have made you my husband and her your wife, I will travel to Barcelona, where I will stay with my parents so quietly that you will not hear anything from me again.
The travelers arrived at the gate of the monastery. The former monk was overcome by severe mental agitation when he saw the gloomy walls of the monastery.
He asked in a broken voice to see Miss Sartilly. But it was denied to him. He was not allowed to say a word to her, because the rules of the monastery forbade it.
- Good, — said Dominica. — I have a way: I will become a nun here.
— You! — exclaimed Rose-Marie.
— So it is precisely my monastic tendencies that dissipate as soon as I have time to meet Miss Geneviève, explains everything to her; her bridegroom's innocence, his deliverance, his faithfulness—and then I bring him to you! I am successful in that, believe me! Give me the newspapers describing the trial!
— You are a good girl — confessed Etienne, whose hope was already beginning to return.
And Dominica did as she was told.
The next day he entered the monastery. And on the eighth day he left with him a slender novice, whose hair was cut short, but whose eyes shone from behind the tears as he galloped along the village street.
* * * * *
In a modest hotel in Echalari, Geneviève now met Lazarensa. The betrothed were so overcome by their emotions that for a moment neither of them could say a word. After embracing, they held each other's hands.
Mrs. Miralez broke the silence. He had dropped to his knees
in front of Geneviève.
— Sorry! — he whispered in a moved, trembling voice.
Miss Sartilly turned around and saw the worried face of her former rival in front of her.
— Sorry! — repeated Rose-Marie. — For three months I've been insane, crazy. Forget it Geneviève! Have you read the newspapers? You know the real edge of things. Be kind to your poor aunt and live to hate her very severely! Now that I have reunited you, I will withdraw and you will not have to see me again. I am so happy to know you are happy… Goodbye Etienne! … Goodbye Geneviève! I assure you that your fiance has never kissed me, not even on the forehead... Now will you give me one kiss?
The young bride couldn't stop a sigh of pity from surfacing. He embraced Mrs. Miralez. They both cried. The young widow was Kalma's pale.
— Lazare, kiss Rose-Marie! — said Geneviève to her suitor.
After hearing these words, Mrs. Miralez got up. She saw the man she had most passionately loved approaching; she felt his quivering lips touch her cheek; he closed his eyes and seemed as if he had felt in this twinkling of an eye all the happiness that was his blissful hope for the rest of his life.
Rose-Marie and Dominica left for Barcelona that same evening.
Lazare and Geneviève went to France together again.
Three months later, Etienne Hontarrède married Geneviève de Sartilly. The wedding was celebrated in Montségur, and the next day the young lady laid a wreath of heather on Martin's grave.
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