‘Sure!’
The words had lost all meaning, yet they were what everyone was carrying on about now with ridiculous solemnity. About things that did not exist. And a man who did not exist, either.
The public prosecutor spoke all afternoon long, finally demanding, his face streaming with sweat, the death penalty for both the accused.
The lawyers for the defence spent the entire next day delivering their closing speeches, and it was eight o’clock when the jury retired to deliberate.
‘We still have a chance,’ insisted Demarié, pacing restlessly around the little room, where Tony was the calmer of the two.
Did the lawyer believe in his innocence? Had he any doubts? It didn’t matter. He kept looking at his watch. By 9.30, the bell that would summon them back to the courtroom had not yet echoed along the corridors.
‘A good sign. When deliberations drag on, it usually means that …’
They waited for another half an hour before being recalled to their places. One of the ceiling lights had burned out.
‘I remind the public that I will tolerate no disorder.’
The foreman of the jury rose, holding a sheet of paper.
‘In the matter of Andrée Despierre, née Formier, the verdict of the jury on the first count is: yes. On the second count: yes. On the third and the fourth counts: no.’
She had been found guilty of the murder of her husband, with premeditation, but innocent of the death of Gisèle.
‘In the matter of Antoine Falcone, the verdict of the jury …’
He was found innocent of the murder of Nicolas, but guilty of murdering his wife and in his case, too, the charge of premeditation was considered proven.
While the presiding judge was speaking quietly with his associates, leaning in turn from one to the other, the silence that fell was tense with impatience.
At last the judge pronounced sentence. On the recommendation of the jury, the death penalty for the two accused was commuted to life in prison with hard labour.
In the ensuing tumult, while everyone stood up at once and people shouted to one another all across the courtroom, Andrée rose as well and turned slowly towards Tony.
This time, he was so fascinated by her face that he could not turn away. Never, even when they had been the most closely united as one flesh, had he seen her so radiant and beautiful. Never had her voluptuous mouth smiled at him as it did now, in the triumph of love. Never, with one look, had she possessed him so completely.
‘You see, Tony?’ she exulted. ‘Nothing can part us now!’
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The Blue Room Page 13