My Memoirs Part 55

I must not forget to mention "_Blanc-Blanc_" (white-white), Sister Leonide's cat. He was quite black save for a spot of white between the eyes. He followed the Sister everywhere, and when she entered my cell, he went under my bed. After Sister Leonide had gone, _Blanc-Blanc_ made his appearance and touched me with his paw. I knew what that meant.

Juliette took our only plate--"our Sevres dinner service," as she called it--and we gave the cat some milk. When he heard the door being opened, he took up a place against the wall. Then, before the door was closed again, he slipped through and disappeared. Sister Leonide knew exactly where the cat had been, but she exclaimed: "I wonder where Blanc-Blanc has been spending the afternoon!"...

Juliette was vexed with the appearance of our cell. One morning she suddenly declared that she had found a way of improving it beyond description.

"We are going to make a beautiful couch!" she cried, and forthwith she pulled the straw mattresses off the spare beds--each mattress was just a bundle of straw inside a sack--and also the three straw bolsters (for there were five beds in our cell). She placed the mattresses one on top of another in the centre of the cell and covered the "couch" with a spare sheet, and in front of it we put the "dressing-room" table, which was now adorned not only with the photograph of my mother and my child, but also with one of Juliette's daughter. We sat down, feeling almost cheerful, on the improvised "_bergere_," and then... we heard the bolt of the door being drawn and the key being turned. Sister Leonide entered, followed by "our Mother." The former saw at once the piece of furniture we had added to our small stock, and it was all that she could do not to laugh. Then, "Our Mother" saw it too.... I forestalled the coming reproaches by taking the Sister Superior by the hand and making her sit on the _bergere_. She had to admit that it was considerably more comfortable than the hard beds and the rush chairs in the cell.... But prison rules were prison rules, and gloomily, Juliette and I started undoing our great work.

Both "Our Mother" and Sister Leonide watched us despondently, and the former suddenly said: "Don't do it just yet.... Rest a little on the couch first."

On Good Friday, Pastor Arboux came to me and I received the Holy Communion. He had brought the bread and the wine from his little chapel, and we knelt down together afterwards on the tiles of the cell.

On Easter Day I felt unusually depressed. It was such a great day at home. My mother and I hid eggs of all sizes and colours in the garden.

Each of them contained surprises, and Marthe spent most of the day looking for them. When a child I gave her chicks and ducklings on that occasion. She very soon learned to know them, and she gave them names.

One Easter Day she came into the drawing-room followed by all her _proteges_, and her favourite c.o.c.k, L'Effronte (Bold-face), a bird I had given her the year before, flew on the grand piano and crowed!

I sang at the Temple of _l'Etoile_ on Easter Day, and in the evening Marthe, one or two musical friends and I, gave a concert. The whole family was gathered, and all the little roughnesses of life were forgotten. My husband gave up painting and came down from his dear studio, and played with Marthe, whom he adored.

M. Arboux came to Saint-Lazare, early in the morning, and although it was on one of the busiest days of the year with him, he remained with me longer than he intended to, for he saw how miserable I felt.

After vespers--Juliette had attended that service and had then gone to the "parlour"--the Sister Superior entered my cell. I jumped off my bed, where I was sobbing, and apologised. Gently "Our Mother" scolded me, and said: "You will wear your eyes out; you must not cry.... I have brought you some visitors."...

Several Sisters came in one by one, and my cell was lit up by all those smiling faces and the white _cornettes_.

Sister Leonide gave me some primroses. "They will replace," she said, "the faded mimosa on your little table. These primroses were sent us by a poor girl who has not forgotten the little we were able to do for her when she was a prisoner here.... 'Our Mother' has given me permission to offer you those few flowers."

There were nine or ten Sisters in my cell now; they all spoke kindly to me, and every one made me a little present. "Our Mother" handed me a small photograph of a Raphael Madonna; another, two new-laid eggs sent her by her parents, farmers near Paris.... One Sister, young, and with mischievous eyes, gave me a very faded branch of "snow-b.a.l.l.s," and said: "Sister Leonide has told me that you can revive flowers that are almost dead.... When can I come to see the miracle?"

"In a day's time," I replied. Our Mother asked me what my "secret" was, and I told her that it merely consisted in nipping off the ends of the stems and dipping them for a while in warm water, but one had to instinctively guess how long they must be kept in the water, and how warm the water must be. Two or three "baths" might be necessary.

The next day, the "snow-b.a.l.l.s" looked fresh and beautiful, and the Sister Superior spoke of "Resurrection."

I almost forgot, on that Sunday evening, that I was in prison, and when the Sisters left my cell, it seemed to me that a great part of my sorrow had been taken from me, and flew away on the great white wings of the Sisters' _cornettes_.

I was no longer alone in my cell. I had the primroses and the "snow-b.a.l.l.s," and I laid them, as on a tomb, before my mother's portrait.

Towards the middle of May, Maitre Aubin came one morning, excited as I had never seen him before.

He seized both my hands and exclaimed: "You are saved. The murderers have been found. At least, it is an almost sure thing. At any moment you may be set free. I have seldom been so happy!"

I had so often been disappointed that I dared not share my counsel's enthusiasm.

"But, Madame, you must not be sceptical.... Listen!" And he told me that a man called Allaire, who had already been denounced as one of the Impa.s.se Ronsin murderers in an anonymous letter received by M. Hamard, had been arrested at Versailles, where he had been caught stealing at a fair. Investigations had shown that Allaire had been concerned in a burglary with a friend of his, called Tardivel, and a red-haired woman called Batifolier. Allaire had denied his partic.i.p.ation in the Steinheil murder, but had admitted that Tardivel had told him all about that murder, in which he, Tardivel, had played a leading part!

I was filled with hope, and yet I feared lest this new turn in events might lead to nothing, as so many others had, and merely mean a postponement of my release or my trial, a longer stay in prison....

I was right, alas! The Tardivel investigations lasted nearly _two months_, and merely led to the discovery that Allaire was an epileptic, that Tardivel was a lunatic, and that although both were burglars, they had had nothing to do with the Impa.s.se Ronsin drama. Tardivel, to impress Allaire, had _boasted_ that he was the murderer of M. Steinheil and Mme. j.a.py!

The Tardivel Dossier fills 234 pages and contains 36,000 words. That my counsel had good cause to believe that at last the a.s.sa.s.sins had been tracked down, may be gathered from the following extracts from the Tardivel dossier:

"May 15th, 1909. We, Debauchey, Police-Commissary at Versailles... have interrogated Allaire, Emmanuel, aged 27... about his alleged partic.i.p.ation in the murders of M. Steinheil and Mme. j.a.py....

_Answer._ "So far as I am concerned, I know nothing about the Steinheil affair, except the declarations made to me by my friend Angello Tardivel.... I knew Angello at the lunatic asylum at Rennes, where I was placed at the same time as he. I left the asylum a little before he did, wandered and worked in many places and came to Versailles at the end of 1907. On July 5th, 1908, at the 'Feast of the Work-Yards,' I met Tardivel, and we had a drink together.... He told me about himself, and said he was the author of many burglaries. He proposed that I should join him, and said I would not lose by it, for burglaries paid well. I met him again a few days later, and it was then that he said he was one of the authors of the murder in the Impa.s.se Ronsin. The widow Batifolier was with me at the time, but that did not matter, for he knew that she was deaf. However, I repeated to the widow, later on, what Tardivel had told me. Tardivel said there had been four of them in the Steinheil affair: himself, a man called Pierre Robert, aged 28 or 29, another whose name he did not give, and a tall red-haired woman called Amelie Brunot, who was Robert's friend.... Tardivel had lived in the Rue de Vaugirard, close to the Impa.s.se Ronsin, and he seemed to know the Steinheil house perfectly well both inside and out. I cannot tell you whether Tardivel was once a model.... He has long dark curls falling on his shoulders, and is rather handsome. He speaks several languages, including Italian, Spanish and English. He also told me that he had acted as super in various theatres. He did not say how he and his companions entered the Steinheil house, but I understand that he had some skeleton keys, a crowbar, a revolver, and an electric lantern.... I remember his saying that they found a woman in her bed.... The red-haired woman went first, and the others followed.... They put some wadding soaked with chloroform on the woman's face... and they bound her. He said that the rope they used came from the girth of a saddle. He did not say anything about M. Steinheil or the other lady, but merely that they had stolen money... candlesticks and other things. When he told me all this, Tardivel was a little drunk. What I have told you is absolutely the truth...."

_Question._ "Do you not believe that Tardivel, when he told you all this in confidence... was only boasting in order to impress you with his ability, so that you would be led to accept his proposals? Do you believe he was sincere, and had spoken the truth?"

_Answer._ "Yes, I believe he spoke the truth, and that he was really one of the murderers...."

(_Dossier_ Cote 4)

The reader may imagine my feelings when I heard all those details from my counsel!

Tardivel was traced. He proved that he "had had nothing to do with the Steinheil affair," and that he was "the victim of Allaire's spite."

(_Dossier_ Cote 34)

Of course Marthe, too, believed in the Tardivel clue, and when she came to the prison she told me to be patient "just a little longer." But nothing happened. It was clearly demonstrated after weeks of investigations, during which I could hardly eat or sleep, that neither Allaire nor Tardivel could have had anything to do with the murder.

Meanwhile, journalists were once more besieging the house in the Impa.s.se Ronsin, and my daughter, finding that they stopped at nothing to gain admittance, resorted to a very simple and effective method of getting rid of them. She turned the garden hose on the invaders.

Scores of persons--especially foreigners--came to the house, and when Marthe was absent the doorkeeper allowed herself to be bribed into showing the visitors round the apartments!

Days went by; weeks, months... endless, weary months, and the Tardivel clue yielded no results. It was a dreadful blow to me, but a worse was to fall. Ever since March 30th, 1909, the _Procureur_ had had before him all the doc.u.ments of the "Steinheil case." On June 18th five magistrates of the _Chambre des Mises en Accusation_, found a true bill against me, and on July 8, nearly eight months after my arrest, I was informed, at the request of the _Procureur_, that a release was out of the question, and that I would be tried in the Paris Court of a.s.size....

The dreadful news was broken to me in the Director's room. M. Desmoulin was there with M. Pons. They both looked very uneasy, but made merely commonplace remarks. Then Maitre Aubin rushed in with Maitre Landowski.

"I am delighted, Madame!" he exclaimed. "I will vindicate you, I'll prove your innocence. Rejoice, Madame, rejoice!"

I believed that I was going to be released. "When do I leave Saint-Lazare?" I asked eagerly.

"Towards the end of October, I should think. You'll have been tried by that time, and acquitted, of course."

I understood.... A trial.... Several months in prison.... I heard a rumbling noise. Everything seemed to whirl around me and I swooned.

When I came back to my senses I saw Sister Leonide by my side. She signed to me not to speak, and helped me back to my cell.

For several days I was a prey to the deepest despair. Then came the relief of tears....

When I was well enough to get about again, I received a visit from Maitre Aubin. Somehow, the mere sight of him made me angry. I told him that he was responsible for all that had happened; that he should have allowed and even advised me to tell M. Andre everything about the Faure doc.u.ments and the necklace, about M. de Balincourt and the mysterious "German." I accused him of having sold himself to the Government, of having merely carried out their instructions....

Maitre Aubin waited until I had flung my last accusation at him. Then, quietly, he explained that he was an honest and independent man, and that he feared no one. "You have only suspicions against M. de Balincourt, just as you had against Wolff and Couillard; and you know where those suspicions led you.... As for that German, although your servants, Marthe and others, saw him, it would be well nigh impossible to trace him. And you could not a.s.sert that he had something to do with the murder.... Treat me as you choose; you have suffered so much that it would be extraordinary if you had kept your full self-possession. All I can say is that you will be triumphantly acquitted. There will remain no trace of suspicion against you, and that is what is needed above all."

He spoke for a long time, and I apologised for my anger. Maitre Aubin was profoundly devoted, and I should never have turned on him as I had done.