At first, the ex-officer was confident and
calm. He could prove his innocence as easily as
his friend Guesno had done, and could come out
of the affair with hands as pure and spotless as
ever. He wrote to all his friends, and gathered
his resources together, getting fifteen good and
substantial witnesses to prove his presence in
Paris during the whole of the eighth of Floréal;
consequently, his entire innocence of the murder.
This was so easy to do, that the thing seemed
but a bagatelle. Of his witnesses, the most
responsible was the rich jeweller Legrand, who
swore that citizen Lesurques had passed the
morning of the eighth with him and citizen
jeweller Aldenof; and that he was particular
about the date, because on that day he had
sundry professional dealings with citizen Aldenof,
selling him a silver spoon for a pair of earrings;
so, of course, he remembered all the
circumstances well. Aldenof swore to the same thing;
and Hilaire Ledru, the artist, and Chauffer, the
cousin of the accused, in their turn swore that
they had breakfasted with him on that day at
Rue Montorgueil, and taken coffee together
after; and Baudart, the painter, swore that he
had been invited to dine at his house, but was
prevented going by reason of his service at the
National Guard. In confirmation whereof, he
showed Lesurques' note of invitation dated 8th
Floréal, and his own official mandate and voucher;
stating further, that though he had not dined
with him, yet he had gone to his house in the
evening, and quitted it only when he went to
bed. And various lodgers added to this, their
testimony that they had met him at various
times that day and evening on the stairs and
landing, &c. And then Legrand, to prove his
attestation more fully, brought his books to
show that he had had, as he said, trade dealings
with Aldenof on the day mentioned; and handed
them over to the magistrate for inspection.
But at the first glance Gohier, the judge, cried
out, "A forgery!" and flung the book back to
the counsel of the accused for inspection. And
there, sure enough, was the date "9th Floréal"
written in paler ink beneath, with "8" marked
over, in strong black lines! A forgery without
doubt, and clumsily done into the bargain.

Legrand, pressed on this point, grew
confused. He hesitated, stammered, contradicted
himself, and finally confessed that he had not
made the entry until some days after; and that
he had made it at first under the date of the
ninth, but afterwards changed it to the eighth,
when he recollected matters more clearly. It
was no forgery, but a simple mistake honestly
set right when discovered, and he was not
guilty of false witness or perjury, as Gohier, the
citizen president, declared. He ended by saying
that though he could not now swear, yet he
believed in the innocence of his friend. But his
evidence was enough. Lesurques, on the point
of being acquitted, was now held as the author
of a cunningly devised plot; a plot in which
the cursed leaven of aristocracy was at work,
He had bought his witnesses, he, the rich man,
able to corrupt the honesty of weak citizens,
as is the way of infirm human nature; wherefore
no credence was to be given to any of them.
His guilt was proved, said Gohier, summing up,
more as an advocate against the prisoner than as
the judge; the testimony of the servants and
innkeepers on the road was of more account
than all these false oaths of interested or loving
friends; let the case be closed and justice done
—Joseph Lesurques is guilty of the murder of
the citizen Excoffon—away with him to the
dungeon and the scaffold!

At that moment, while the jury had retired
to consider their verdict, a woman, pale, breathless,
and violently agitated, rushed to the front
of the tribunal, crying out, "He is innocent,
and Dubosc, whom he resembles, is the murderer
in his stead." This was poor Madeleine
Brébant, whose conscience pressed her too heavily,
and whose testimony to the innocence of
Lesurques, though it went to inculpate her lover,
could no longer be withheld. But she was
thrust back. "It is too late," said Gohier,
rudely, "the debate is closed." The jury never
heard her evidence, and when they came back
the die was cast. Lesurques, Courriol, and
Bernard, were condemned to death, and Richard to
twenty-four years at the galleys.

Lesurques rose, declared his innocence quietly
and firmly; and then Courriol rose with more
heat, saying: "Yes, I am guilty, I confess my
crime, but Lesurques is innocent, and Bernard
has had no part in the affair." This he repeated
four times, but without effect: what good could
be done when the judge had made himself the
hostile advocate? But Courriol did not let the
matter rest. From his condemned cell he wrote
a long letter to the judge, saying that he had
never seen or known Lesurques (had he
forgotten the breakfast at the Rue des Boucheries?),
and naming as his copartners in the murder,
Vidal, Rossi, Dutrochat, and Dubosc. The likeness,
very striking, between Lesurques and
Dubosc, who was a brown-haired man but who
wore a light-coloured wig as a disguise, had led
to the mistake, and to the false swearing of the
witnesses. All this Courriol wrote with
earnestness and exactness, while standing on the
brink of the grave whither his crimes and his
vices had hurried him.

Then, Lesurques' friends bestirred themselves
diligently; and Madeleine Brébant gave her
testimony—the same as Courriol's—clearly and
without reserve; and the Directory was
petitioned, and the Corps Législatif appealed to;
but in vain. The sentence was confirmed;
Lesurques must die. The existence of Dubosc
was not believed in; it was a clever highwayman's
trick to save one of their body; while
as for Vidal, Rossi, and Dutrochat, justice would
acknowledge their complicity when made sure
of their existence. At present it would act on
the old proverb of the bird in the hand and the
couple in the bush, and close its fingers tight
over what it had caught. Lesurques saw that
all hope was at an end. He wrote the following
calm and touching letters to his widow, and to
the unknown in whose place he was to suffer,