I was devoured by anxiety. Arthur had written me
to keep up my courage, in as laconic a style as Patience. My counsel
had been unable to obtain any fresh evidence in my favour. I could see
clearly that he was beginning to believe me guilty. All he hoped for was
to obtain a further delay.
XXVII
There were even more people present than at the first trial. The guard
were forced back to the doors of the court, and the crowd occupied every
available space, even to the windows of the mansion of Jacques Coeur,
the town-hall of the present day. I was much agitated this time,
though I had strength and pride enough not to let it be seen. I was now
interested in the success of my case, and, as it seemed as if my hopes
were not to be realized, I experienced an indescribable feeling of
uneasiness, a sort of suppressed rage, a bitter hatred of these men who
would not open their eyes to my innocence, and even of God who seemed to
have deserted me.
In this state of agitation I had to make such violent efforts to appear
calm that I scarcely noticed what was happening around me. I recovered
sufficient presence of mind when my fresh examination took place to
answer in the same terms as at the first trial. Then a black veil seemed
to fall over my head, an iron ring gripped my brow; the sockets of my
eyes went icily cold; I could see nothing but myself, hear nothing but
vague, unintelligible sounds.
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