The will to live (Les Roquevillard) : $b A novelBordeaux, Henry
General
The will to live (Les Roquevillard) : $b A novel
Bordeaux, Henry
Elopement -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; France -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
Having thus dictated his orders for the combat, he exerted himself next
to bring round his allies to his way of thinking, for he could, if he
liked, modify his imperious manner, and was not without skill in the
art of leading men. He was certain of the assistance of the president,
and so he turned his attention specially to Mr. Battard, who might
escape him.
“You will be there, both of you, please. I count on you. If I ask to
take your place, Battard, it isn’t because I rank my skill above yours.
But there are certain things which it is my sad privilege alone to
explain to the jury.”
“What things?”
“That’s my secret. You’ll hear it all to-morrow. I believe I can
convince the jury of my son’s innocence without mentioning the name of
Mrs. Frasne.”
“By making reparation for the injury?”
“No, by direct argument.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ll see to-morrow. However, if you detect any weakening in my voice
or argument, if my speech makes you fear a failure, you must tell me.
I submit myself entirely to your great experience in jury trials. You
have wonderful presence of mind. These judges’ faces are an open book
to you. You know the brief as well as I, or better than I do. You were
ready with it. You can supplement my efforts. I shall feel myself
strong, thus supported. Will you be so kind?”
The dismissed lawyer stroked his beard carefully, and hid his vexation
beneath an air of indifference.
“My dear brother, what is the use?” he said. “My cooperation would
be useless to you. You don’t really need anybody but yourself.
You’re assuming without hesitation the highest and most difficult
responsibilities. Permit me to consider my mission terminated.”
The two lawyers, during this interchange, had remained standing. Mr.
Hamel, seated by the chimney corner, followed them with somewhat
troubled eyes, taking no part in their discussion. Mr. Roquevillard
moved a step nearer to his younger colleague, and put his hand
affectionately on his shoulder.
“I know that I’m asking a great favour of you, Battard. In claiming
the honour of defending my son myself, I want you to understand that
it’s my name I count upon defending. I don’t undervalue the help your
worth and competence and eloquence would have been to me. But in my
place you would do the same as I. Give me this token of your friendship
and disinterestedness, as well as your esteem. In that way you’ll show
me that you take what I’m saying in good faith, I beg you.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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