“Oh, sir,” stammered Dionysia, “thanks, thanks!” “There is nothing to thank me for, madam; for time has only confirmed my conviction. As if a guilty man ever bore himself as M. de Boiscoran does! You ought to have seen him just now, when we had gone to remove the seals, calm, dignified, answering coldly all the questions that were asked. I could not help telling M. Galpin what I thought. He said I was a fool. Well, I maintain, on the contrary, that he is. Ah! I beg your pardon, I mean that he is mistaken. The more I see of M. de Boiscoran, the more he gives me the impression that he has only a word to say to clear up the whole matter.” Dionysia listened to him with such absorbing interest, that she well-nigh forgot why she had come. “Then,” she asked, “you think M. de Boiscoran is not much overcome?” “I should lie if I said he did not look sad, madam,” was the reply. “But he is not overcome. After the first astonishment, his presence of mind returned; and M. Galpin has in vain tried these three days by all his ingenuity and his cleverness”-- Here he stopped suddenly, like a drunken man who recovers his consciousness for a moment, and becomes aware that he has said too much in his cups. He exclaimed,-- “Great God! what am I talking about? For Heaven’s sake, madam, do not let anybody hear what I was led by my respectful sympathy to tell you just now.” Dionysia felt that the decisive moment had come. She said,-- “If you knew me better, sir, you would know that you can rely upon my discretion. You need not regret having given me by your confidence some little comfort in my great sorrow. You need not; for”-- Her voice nearly failed her, and it was only with a great effort she could add,-- “For I come to ask you to do even more than that for me, oh! yes, much more.” Mechinet had turned painfully pale. He broke in vehemently,-- “Not another word, madam: your hope already is an insult to me. You ought surely to know that by my profession, as well as by my oath, I am bound to be as silent as the very cell in which the prisoners are kept. If I, the clerk, were to betray the secret of a criminal prosecution”-- Dionysia trembled like an aspen-leaf; but her mind remained clear and decided. She said,-- “You would rather let an innocent man perish.” “Madam!” “You would let an innocent man be condemned, when by a single word you could remove the mistake of which he is the victim? You would say to yourself, ‘It is unlucky; but I have sworn not to speak’? And you would see him with quiet conscience mount the scaffold? No, I cannot believe that! No, that cannot be true!” “I told you, madam, I believe in M. de Boiscoran’s innocence.”