MOUZON. Well, well, for my part, I ask nothing more than to be able to set you at liberty. So far we understand each other excellently. Let us hope it'll last. Sit down. And first of all I advise you to give up trying to father the crime onto a band of gipsies. The witness Bridet, who has business relations with you, has endeavored, no doubt at your instigation, to induce us to accept this fable. I warn you he has not succeeded.

ETCHEPARE. I don't know what Bridet may have told you.

MOUZON. Oh! You deny it? So much the better! Come, you are cleverer than I thought! Was it you who murdered Goyetche?

ETCHEPARE. No, Monsieur.

MOUZON. You had an interest in his death?

ETCHEPARE. No, Monsieur.

MOUZON. Oh, really! I thought you had to pay him a life annuity.

ETCHEPARE [_after a moment's hesitation_] Yes, Monsieur.

MOUZON. Then you had an interest in his death? [_Silence_] Eh! You don't answer? Well, let us continue. You said to a witness, the young woman--the young woman Gracieuse Mendione--"It is really too stupid to be forced to pay money to that old swine."

ETCHEPARE [_without conviction_] That's not true.

MOUZON. It's not true! So the witness is a liar, eh?

ETCHEPARE. I don't know.

MOUZON. You don't know. [_A pause_] You thought that Goyetche had lived too long?

ETCHEPARE. No, Monsieur.

MOUZON. No, Monsieur. Then why did you say to another witness, Piarrech Artola, why did you say, in speaking of your creditor, "It's too much, the Almighty has forgotten him"?

ETCHEPARE. I didn't say that.

MOUZON. You didn't say that. So this witness is a liar too! Answer me.

Is he a liar? [_Silence_] You don't answer. It's just as well. Come now, Etchepare, why do you persist in these denials--eh? Isn't it all plain enough? You are avaricious, interested, greedy for gain--

ETCHEPARE. It's so hard to make a living.

MOUZON. You are a man of violent temper--from time to time you get drunk, and then you become dangerous. You have been four times convicted for a.s.sault and wounding--you are over-ready with your knife. Is that the truth or isn't it? You were tired of paying--for nothing--a biggish annual sum to this old man. The time for payment was approaching; you were pressed for money; you felt that Goyetche had lived too long, and you killed him. It's so obvious--eh? Isn't it true?

ETCHEPARE [_gradually recovering himself_] I did not murder him.

MOUZON. We won't juggle with words. Did you pay anyone else to kill him?

ETCHEPARE. I had nothing to do with his death. You yourself say I was pressed for money. So how could I have paid anyone to kill him?

MOUZON. Then you did it yourself.

ETCHEPARE. That's a lie.

MOUZON. Listen, Etchepare--you will confess sooner or later. Already you are weakening in your defence.

ETCHEPARE. If I was to shout, you'd say I was play-acting.

MOUZON. I tell you sooner or later you will change your tune. Already you admit facts which const.i.tute a serious charge against you.

ETCHEPARE. That's true; I said it without thinking of the consequences.

MOUZON. Ah, but you ought to think of the consequences; for they may be peculiarly serious for you.

ETCHEPARE. I'm not afraid of death.

MOUZON. The death of others--

ETCHEPARE. Nor my own.

MOUZON. So much the better. But you are a Basque; you are a Catholic.

After death there is h.e.l.l.

ETCHEPARE. I'm not afraid of h.e.l.l; I've done nothing wrong.

MOUZON. There is the dishonor that will fall on your children. You love your children, do you not? Eh? They will ask after you--they love you--because they don't know--yet--

ETCHEPARE [_suddenly weeping_] My poor little children! My poor little children!

MOUZON. Come, then! All good feeling isn't extinct in you. Believe me, Etchepare, the jury will be touched by your confession, by your repentance--you will escape the supreme penalty. You are still young--you have long years before you in which to expiate your crime.

You may earn your pardon and perhaps you may once again see those children, who will have forgiven you. Believe me--believe me--in your own interests even, confess! [_Mouzon has approached Etchepare during the foregoing; he places his hands on the latter's shoulders; he continues, with great gentleness_] Come, isn't it true? If you can't speak, you've only to nod your head. Eh? It's true? Come, since I know it's true. Eh? I can't hear what you say. It was you, wasn't it? It was you!

ETCHEPARE [_still weeping_] It was not me, sir! I swear it was not me! I swear it!

MOUZON [_in a hard voice, going back to his desk_] Oh, you needn't swear. You have only to tell me the truth.

ETCHEPARE. I am telling the truth--I am--I can't say I did it when I didn't!

MOUZON. Come, come! We shall get nothing out of you to-day. [_To the recorder_] Read him his interrogatory and let him be taken back to his cell. One minute--Etchepare!

ETCHEPARE. Monsieur?

MOUZON. There is one way to prove your innocence, since you profess to be innocent. Prove, in one way or another, that you were elsewhere than at Irissary on the night of the crime, and I will set you at liberty.

Where were you?

ETCHEPARE. Where was I?

MOUZON. I ask you where you were on the night of Ascension Day. Were you at home?

ETCHEPARE. Yes.

MOUZON. Is that really the truth?

ETCHEPARE. Yes.