"Do you recollect this dress?" asked the
president, of Dumollard.

"Oh, perfectly."

"And you, Marianne Dumollard?"

"Of course, I have worn it."

"Have you not also worn a cap with marks
of blood?"

"Certainly not. I should have washed it,"
said the woman.

"You fully recognise the prisoner?" asked
the .president of the weeping witness.

"^Recognise him!" shrieked the poor girl,
wringing her hands with wild passion. "The
miscreant! the monster! He killed my sister
—my poor Ealalie! But it is I, too—I, that
am guilty. O, mon Dieu! mon Dieu! I
believed him. I trusted him. I made her go
with him—to death—to death—and what a
death!"

She was carried out fainting. A gentleman,
sitting near, stated that, since the discovery of
her sister's fate, she had never ceased to accuse
herself in this manner, as a sort of accomplice.

The procureur-general gave a brief summary
of the case, claiming the extreme penalty of the
law against both the prisoners.

"One" he concluded, " as the participator in
all the robberies, the confederate of all the
horrors that had preceded them. The other, as a
habitual professed assassin, whose life has been
one long outrage and defiance of all laws,
divine and human. Steeped in infamy—enemy
alike of the living and of the dead—he has made
no single pause in his career of crime, nor can
any penalty of man's enactment attain the standard
of his desert."

Dumollard's advocate, M. Lardière, followed,
and commenced his address in a manner
decidedly French.

"In the secluded village of Dagneux, lately
so obscure, to-day so notorious, there stands,
fronting the church, a modest tomb wherein
repose all that is mortal of those I loved best on
earth—my father and my mother. Since the
period that the exigencies of my professional
career have forbidden me to kneel at that
cherished shrine, memory has daily pictured to
me those happy shades, that simple, quiet
community, among whom the soft joys of earlier
youth were tasted."

The excellent advocate, in less euphonious
phrase, proceeded to explain that Dumollard,
recollecting his name in connexion with the
place, had written to him, entreating him to
undertake his defence.

"Perhaps it is a first expiation, on the part of
this unhappy man," remarked Monsieur L.
with almost overweening modesty, "that he
should have selected my weak aid, instead of
that of some more distinguished member of
that bar whose hospitality I am now enjoying."

Monsieur L. made no effort to rebut the
evidence, resting his defence on the ground of
those social defects which cast men like Dumollard,
unheeded, unreclaimed, loose upon the
world, from their cradles: while, at the same
time, the growing aversion to capital punishment,
weakens the sole barrier by which the
passions of such men are restrained. Shall,
then, society wreak mortal vengeance upon a
deed for which it is itself, in some measure,
responsible?

The counsel of the female prisoner, M. Villeneuve,
delivered a long and very eloquent
address, and, having better materials to work
with, made a decided impression on the court
and jury.

The president gave an impartial summing up,
and concluded by submitting to the jury twenty-
eight distinct questions, bearing upon the
various acts of murder, robbery, &c., charged in
the indictment.

It was four o'clock, on the fourth day, when
the jury withdrew to their consultations. The
prisoners were removed, and groups, forming in
every part of the court, eagerly discussed the
case. No doubt was felt as to Dumollard.
The strongest opponents of capital punishment
seemed on this occasion to have laid aside their
prejudices. As an illustration of this, a gentleman
who had been summoned among the jury,
but was not one of those on whom the lot fell,
observed:

"I have never been able to condemn a man
to death, but, in spite of the scruples I have
always felt and expressed as to the inviolability
of human life, I would, in this instance, have
signed with both hands for the guillotine."

In the mean time the individual most nearly
concerned was taking refreshment, and chatting
easily with those around him; but he neither
addressed nor even looked at his wife, who sat at
a little distance, weeping bitterly.

Two hours and a half had elapsed, when the
door leading to the jury-chamber swung open,
and the twelve re-entered: the foreman carrying
a large scroll, which he handed to the president.
There was no need to proclaim silence, when,
placing his hand on his heart, the foreman
began:

"On my honour and my conscience, before
God and men, our verdict is——"

"Stay, gentlemen," said the president; " here
is something irregular. You have not only to
pronounce upon the principal charges, but also
to answer 'Yes' or 'No' to each of the aggravating
circumstances. Have the goodness to
retire and do this."

It took some little time to rectify this
informality, and then the jury once more made their
appearance. The twenty-eight chief questions
were, for the most part, supplemented by other
questions, each requiring a separate answer, such
as:

"With violence?"

"During the night?"

"With premeditation?"

"On the public highway?" And like questions.

In all, there proved to be sixty-seven affirmative,
and seventeen negative, answers—the
former embracing all the material charges.