I have just come from M. Daburon, the investigating
magistrate, who is one of my grandmother's friends; and, after what I
told him, he is convinced that Albert is innocent."
"He told you that, Claire!" exclaimed the count. "My child, are you
sure, are you not mistaken?"
"No, sir. I told him something, of which every one was ignorant, and
of which Albert, who is a gentleman, could not speak. I told him that
Albert passed with me, in my grandmother's garden, all that evening on
which the crime was committed. He had asked to see me--"
"But your word will not be sufficient."
"There are proofs, and justice has them by this time."
"Heavens! Is it really possible?" cried the count, who was beside
himself.
"Ah, sir!" said Mademoiselle d'Arlange bitterly, "you are like the
magistrate; you believed in the impossible. You are his father, and
you suspected him! You do not know him, then. You were abandoning him,
without trying to defend him. Ah, I did not hesitate one moment!"
One is easily induced to believe true that which one is anxiously
longing for. M. de Commarin was not difficult to convince. Without
thinking, without discussion, he put faith in Claire's assertions.
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