Scenes from a Courtesan's Life [181]
point out that the oath to tell the whole truth is not in this case a mere appeal to your conscience, but a necessity for your own sake, your position having been for a time somewhat ambiguous. The truth can do you no harm, be it what it may; falsehood will send you to trial, and compel me to send you back to the Conciergerie; whereas if you answer fully to my questions, you will sleep to-night in your own house, and be rehabilitated by this paragraph in the papers: 'Monsieur de Rubempre, who was arrested yesterday at Fontainebleau, was set at liberty after a very brief examination.' "
This speech made a deep impression on Lucien; and the judge, seeing the temper of his prisoner, added:
"I may repeat to you that you were suspected of being accessory to the murder by poison of this Demoiselle Esther. Her suicide is clearly proved, and there is an end of that; but a sum of seven hundred and fifty thousand francs has been stolen, which she had disposed of by will, and you are the legatee. This is a felony. The crime was perpetrated before the discovery of the will.
"Now there is reason to suppose that a person who loves you as much as you loved Mademoiselle Esther committed the theft for your benefit.-- Do not interrupt me," Camusot went on, seeing that Lucien was about to speak, and commanding silence by a gesture; "I am asking you nothing so far. I am anxious to make you understand how deeply your honor is concerned in this question. Give up the false and contemptible notion of the honor binding two accomplices, and tell the whole truth."
The reader must already have observed the extreme disproportion of the weapons in this conflict between the prisoner under suspicion and the examining judge. Absolute denial when skilfully used has in its favor its positive simplicity, and sufficiently defends the criminal; but it is, in a way, a coat of mail which becomes crushing as soon as the stiletto of cross-examination finds a joint to it. As soon as mere denial is ineffectual in face of certain proven facts, the examinee is entirely at the judge's mercy.
Now, supposing that a sort of half-criminal, like Lucien, might, if he were saved from the first shipwreck of his honesty, amend his ways, and become a useful member of society, he will be lost in the pitfalls of his examination.
The judge has the driest possible record drawn up of the proceedings, a faithful analysis of the questions and answers; but no trace remains of his insidiously paternal addresses or his captious remonstrances, such as this speech. The judges of the superior courts see the results, but see nothing of the means. Hence, as some experienced persons have thought, it would be a good plan that, as in England, a jury should hear the examination. For a short while France enjoyed the benefit of this system. Under the Code of Brumaire of the year IV., this body was known as the examining jury, as distinguished from the trying jury. As to the final trial, if we should restore the examining jury, it would have to be the function of the superior courts without the aid of a jury.
"And now," said Camusot, after a pause, "what is your name?-- Attention, Monsieur Coquart!" said he to the clerk.
"Lucien Chardon de Rubempre."
"And you were born----?"
"At Angouleme." And Lucien named the day, month, and year.
"You inherited no fortune?"
"None whatever."
"And yet, during your first residence in Paris, you spent a great deal, as compared with your small income?"
"Yes, monsieur; but at that time I had a most devoted friend in Mademoiselle Coralie, and I was so unhappy as to lose her. It was my grief at her death that made me return to my country home."
"That is right, monsieur," said Camusot; "I commend your frankness; it will be thoroughly appreciated."
Lucien, it will be seen, was prepared to make a clean breast of it.
"On your return to Paris you lived even more expensively than before," Camusot went on. "You lived like a man who might have about sixty thousand francs a year."
"Yes, monsieur."
"Who supplied you with the
This speech made a deep impression on Lucien; and the judge, seeing the temper of his prisoner, added:
"I may repeat to you that you were suspected of being accessory to the murder by poison of this Demoiselle Esther. Her suicide is clearly proved, and there is an end of that; but a sum of seven hundred and fifty thousand francs has been stolen, which she had disposed of by will, and you are the legatee. This is a felony. The crime was perpetrated before the discovery of the will.
"Now there is reason to suppose that a person who loves you as much as you loved Mademoiselle Esther committed the theft for your benefit.-- Do not interrupt me," Camusot went on, seeing that Lucien was about to speak, and commanding silence by a gesture; "I am asking you nothing so far. I am anxious to make you understand how deeply your honor is concerned in this question. Give up the false and contemptible notion of the honor binding two accomplices, and tell the whole truth."
The reader must already have observed the extreme disproportion of the weapons in this conflict between the prisoner under suspicion and the examining judge. Absolute denial when skilfully used has in its favor its positive simplicity, and sufficiently defends the criminal; but it is, in a way, a coat of mail which becomes crushing as soon as the stiletto of cross-examination finds a joint to it. As soon as mere denial is ineffectual in face of certain proven facts, the examinee is entirely at the judge's mercy.
Now, supposing that a sort of half-criminal, like Lucien, might, if he were saved from the first shipwreck of his honesty, amend his ways, and become a useful member of society, he will be lost in the pitfalls of his examination.
The judge has the driest possible record drawn up of the proceedings, a faithful analysis of the questions and answers; but no trace remains of his insidiously paternal addresses or his captious remonstrances, such as this speech. The judges of the superior courts see the results, but see nothing of the means. Hence, as some experienced persons have thought, it would be a good plan that, as in England, a jury should hear the examination. For a short while France enjoyed the benefit of this system. Under the Code of Brumaire of the year IV., this body was known as the examining jury, as distinguished from the trying jury. As to the final trial, if we should restore the examining jury, it would have to be the function of the superior courts without the aid of a jury.
"And now," said Camusot, after a pause, "what is your name?-- Attention, Monsieur Coquart!" said he to the clerk.
"Lucien Chardon de Rubempre."
"And you were born----?"
"At Angouleme." And Lucien named the day, month, and year.
"You inherited no fortune?"
"None whatever."
"And yet, during your first residence in Paris, you spent a great deal, as compared with your small income?"
"Yes, monsieur; but at that time I had a most devoted friend in Mademoiselle Coralie, and I was so unhappy as to lose her. It was my grief at her death that made me return to my country home."
"That is right, monsieur," said Camusot; "I commend your frankness; it will be thoroughly appreciated."
Lucien, it will be seen, was prepared to make a clean breast of it.
"On your return to Paris you lived even more expensively than before," Camusot went on. "You lived like a man who might have about sixty thousand francs a year."
"Yes, monsieur."
"Who supplied you with the