instrument beside him, Prosper Magnan fainted and fell into the pool
of Wahlenfer's blood. "It was," he said to me, "the punishment of my
thoughts." When he recovered consciousness he was in the public room,
seated on a chair, surrounded by French soldiers, and in presence of a
curious and observing crowd. He gazed stupidly at a Republican officer
engaged in taking the testimony of several witnesses, and in writing
down, no doubt, the "proces-verbal." He recognized the landlord, his
wife, the two boatmen, and the servant of the Red Inn. The surgical
instrument which the murderer had used--

[Here Monsieur Taillefer coughed, drew out his handkerchief to blow
his nose, and wiped his forehead. These perfectly natural motions were
noticed by me only; the other guests sat with their eyes fixed on
Monsieur Hermann, to whom they were listening with a sort of avidity.
The purveyor leaned his elbow on the table, put his head into his
right hand and gazed fixedly at Hermann. From that moment he showed no
other sign of emotion or interest, but his face remained passive and
ghastly, as it was when I first saw him playing with the stopper of
the decanter.]

The surgical instrument which the murderer had used was on the table
with the case containing the rest of the instruments, together with
Prosper's purse and papers. The gaze of the assembled crowd turned
alternately from these convicting articles to the young man, who
seemed to be dying and whose half-extinguished eyes apparently saw
nothing. A confused murmur which was heard without proved the presence
of a crowd, drawn to the neighborhood of the inn by the news of the
crime, and also perhaps by a desire to see the murderer. The step of
the sentries placed beneath the windows of the public room and the
rattle of their accoutrements could be heard above the talk of the