M. Daburon did even more. For a moment he imagined himself in Albert's
position. What would he have done after the terrible revelation? He
scarcely dared ask himself. He understood the motive which prompted the
murder of Widow Lerouge; he could explain it to himself; he could almost
excuse it. (Another trap.) It was certainly a great crime, but in no way
revolting to conscience or to reason. It was one of those crimes which
society might, if not forget, at least forgive up to a certain point,
because the motive was not a shameful one. What tribunal would fail
to find extenuating circumstances for a moment of frenzy so excusable.
Besides was not the Count de Commarin the more guilty of the two? Was it
not his folly that prepared the way for this terrible event? His son was
the victim of fatality, and was in the highest degree to be pitied.
M. Daburon spoke for a long time upon this text, seeking those things
most suitable in his opinion to soften the hardened heart of an
assassin. And he arrived always at the same conclusion,--the wisdom
of confessing. But he wasted his eloquence precisely as M. Tabaret had
wasted his. Albert appeared in no way affected.
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