Les miserables (Abridged) - Victor Hugo [117]
The darkness was such that he felt no fear in addressing the first lawyer whom he met.
“Monsieur,” said he, “how are they getting along?”
“It is finished,” said the lawyer.
“Finished!”
The word was repeated in such a tone that the lawyer turned around.
“Pardon me, monsieur, you are a relative, perhaps?”
“No. I know no one here. And was there a sentence?”
“Of course. It was hardly possible for it to be otherwise.”
“To hard labour?”
“For life.”
He continued in a voice so weak that it could hardly be heard:
“The identity was established, then?”
“What identity?” responded the lawyer. “There was no identity to be established. It was a simple affair. This woman had killed her child, the infanticide was proven, the jury were not satisfied that there was any premeditation; she was sentenced for life.”
“It is a woman, then?” said he.
“Certainly. The Limousin girl. What else are you speaking of?”
“Nothing, but if it is finished, why is the hall still lighted up?”
“That is for the other case, which commenced nearly two hours ago.”
“What other case?”
“Oh! that is a clear one also. It is a sort of a thief, a second offender, a galley slave; a case of robbery. I forget his name. He looks like a bandit. Were it for nothing but having such a face, I would send him to the galleys.”
“Monsieur,” asked he, “is there any means of getting into the hall?”
“I think not, really. There is a great crowd. However, they are taking a recess. Some people have come out, and when the session is resumed, you can try.”
“How do you get in?”
“Through that wide door.”
The lawyer left him. In a few moments, he had undergone, almost at the same time, almost together, all possible emotions. The words of this indifferent man had alternately pierced his heart like icicles and like flames of fire. When he learned that it was not concluded, he drew breath; but he could not have told whether what he felt was satisfaction or pain.
He approached several groups and listened to their talk. The calendar of the term being very heavy, the judge had set down two short, simple cases for that day. They had begun with the infanticide, and now were on the convict, the recidivist, the “habitual offender.” This man had stolen some apples, but that did not appear to be very well proven; what was proven, was that he had been in the galleys at Toulon. This was what ruined his case. The examination of the man had been finished, and the testimony of the witnesses had been taken; but there yet remained the argument of the counsel, and the summing up of his prosecuting attorney; it would hardly be finished before midnight. The man would probably be condemned; the prosecuting attorney was very good, and never failed with his prisoners; he was a fellow of talent, who wrote poetry.
An officer stood near the door which opened into the court-room. He asked this officer:
“Monsieur, will the door be opened soon?”
“It will not be opened,” said the officer.
“How! it will not be opened when the session is resumed? is there not a recess?”
“The session has just been resumed,” answered the officer, “but the door will not be opened again.”
“Why not?”
“Because the hall is full.”
“What! there are no more seats?”
“Not a single one. The door is closed. No one can enter.”
The officer added, after a silence: “There are indeed two or three places still behind Monsieur the Judge, but Monsieur the Judge admits none but public officials to them.”
So saying, the officer turned his back.
He retired with his head bowed down, crossed the ante-chamber, and walked slowly down the staircase, seeming to hesitate at every step. It is probable that he was holding counsel with himself. The violent combat that had been going on within him since the previous evening was not finished; and, every moment, he fell upon some new turn. When he reached the landing of the stairway, he leaned against the railing and folded his arms. Suddenly he opened his coat, drew out his pocket-book, took out a pencil, tore out a sheet, and wrote rapidly upon that sheet, by the glimmering light, this line: Monsieur