What do signs prove, however striking they may
be, in cases where one ought to disbelieve even the evidence of one's
own senses? Albert is a victim of the most remarkable coincidences; but
one word might explain them. There have been many such cases. It was
even worse in the matter of the little tailor. At five o'clock, he
bought a knife, which he showed to ten of his friends, saying, 'This is
for my wife, who is an idle jade, and plays me false with my workmen.'
In the evening, the neighbours heard a terrible quarrel between the
couple, cries, threats, stampings, blows; then suddenly all was quiet.
The next day, the tailor had disappeared from his home, and the wife was
discovered dead, with the very same knife buried to the hilt between her
shoulders. Ah, well! it turned out it was not the husband who had stuck
it there; it was a jealous lover. After that, what is to be believed?
Albert, it is true, will not give an account of how he passed Tuesday
evening. That does not affect me. The question for me is not to prove
where he was, but that he was not at La Jonchere. Perhaps, after all,
Gevrol is on the right track. I hope so, from the bottom of my
heart.
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