and for more than twelve years she had kept her shut up in a convent in the Province. René loved his wife, and would never have consented to this separation except through filial deference, and perhaps also through the fear of being disinherited. Several times Madame de Savonnières had escaped from her convent prison; but her mother-in-law, watchful of her movements and always merciless, was not slow in bringing her back. M. Barbier assured himself of the certainty of the fact that in the month of March, 1685, at the same time that the mysterious Berry had stolen the fifteen hundred francs from Madame Mazel, Madame de Savonnières was secretly in Paris. Toward the end of August she had made another escape and was again secretly in Paris. She had been concealed for some time in a house in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and had said to some friends, "This will not last long; in three months I shall have no need of concealing myself, and I will openly re-enter my husband's house."
In our day, whatever might be the interested efforts to stifle such rumors, to conceal such suspicious circumstances, the defender of an innocent man would not hesitate to bring to light all that he could to save his client. To the honor of our magistracy be it said, it does not seek to evade the truth, be the consquences what they may.
M. Barbier could not do what advocates at the present time would surely do; and neither the magistrate nor the judges of Châtelet hesitated, as between the influences interested in concealing the true source of the crime and the innocent head of Lebrun. The Savonnières were rich and powerful, the eldest was a member of Parliament; Lebrun was only a poor devil, whom they could condemn with even an appearance of justice. They did not even interrogate the monk Poulard, nor ask him the reason of his contradictory statements, of the romantic lies invented about Berry, whose true origin the monk knew perfectly well. They did not examine the other domestics; they did not try upon the head of any of them the napkin rolled in the shape of a cap, which had been found too small for the head of the accused. They did not seek to ascertain where Madame de Savonnières was, or what she had said. Berry was from Bourges; Madame de Savonnières was confined in a convent at Bourges,—what a coincidence! The bloody shirt and the cravat belonged, witnesses had said, to the lackey Berry; the name of Berry was not even mentioned in the proceedings!
There was no doubt in the mind of M. Barbier, but he was obliged to content himself with showing strong reasons which proved indirectly the innocence of his client: a life wholly honorable, honest, and devoted; a careful economy in his own expenses; the little motive he could have had for committing the deed; the respectful attachment which the poor man showed for his mistress, even after her death; the tranquillity of his soul; the natural gayety which he had shown on the evening of the crime and the next morning, up to the very moment that heknew of the terrible calamity.
What was there against Lebrun which singled him out to the suspicions of justice, and why was it that he alone was accused? Did he have any marks of blood upon him? Knife, rope, linen,—was there any evidence that they belonged to him? For many years he had not worn a lace cravat. This pass-key?—but what was there strange that an old servant should have known where to find in a house in which he had lived so many years a second key forgotten or unknown?
This pass-key, however, proved the destruction of the unhappy Lebrun. It was a proof to some, a pretext to others. Of eleven judges three decided in favor of a fuller investigation, two for acquittal, and six for death.
The sentence, rendered the 18th of January, 1690, declared Lebrun guilty of having taken part in the murder of Madame Mazel; for which he was condemned to make the
