My Memoirs Part 61

The next day, my cook, Mariette Wolff, was called to the witnesses' bar.

It is said that one cannot easily describe the persons one knows best, and I will therefore quote the word-sketch of Mariette made by a writer present at the trial, and the resume of her evidence.

"Mariette looks an old peasant woman from one of Balzac's novels. She is small and round. Her few grey hairs are brushed back from her wrinkled forehead. Her nose is strong, and her eyes are terrible--but when she wants to, she can soften their expression. There is hardly any interval between the nose and the stubborn little chin, which reminds one of a dried-up crabapple. She gives one an extraordinary impression of strength, shrewdness, and obstinacy. One can clearly see that she will not say more than she wants, and that no power on earth can make her speak against her will. She wears an old black dress, a piece of fur, and a modest black bonnet. Quite firmly, she takes up her position at the witnesses' bar, and raising her big yellow hands, she takes the oath in a gruff voice, without a shade of hesitation or nervousness.

"Mme. Steinheil, on whose features the long hours of the trial are telling, follows the movement of her former cook with great intentness....

"In answer to the President's questions, Mariette declares that she was born in 1854, and has been a widow for over fifteen years. She first knew the Steinheils sixteen years ago.

"THE PRESIDENT. 'Was Mme. Steinheil on good terms with your children?'

"'Yes; she knew them all.'

"M. de Valles begins to ask Mariette a number of insidious questions, but the old woman is wonderfully sharp. She has a knack of not committing herself which causes amus.e.m.e.nt and admiration.

"It is quite obvious from the outset that she will do her utmost to s.h.i.+eld her former mistress.

"'Mme. Steinheil was a good housewife, wasn't she?' asks the President gently.

"'Yes, M. le President.'

"'And she helped you with the work?'

"'She did.'

"'Even with the heavy work?'

"'Yes.'

"'And she was strong, wasn't she? She could raise pieces of furniture, couldn't she?'

"But the old woman had seen the trap. She realises--as well as we all do--in spite of her apparent simplicity, that the Judge, if she replies to this question in the affirmative, will deduce that a person who can displace heavy furniture would have strength enough to strangle some one and drag a dead body about. Mariette quietly replied: 'My mistress did what she could, like anybody else.'

"M. de Valles nibbles his paper-cutter, raises his eyebrows, and sighs.

"His interrogatory now deals with the _Vert-Logis_, the Steinheils'

villa at Bellevue, near Paris. 'Mme. Steinheil had many lovers,' he says. Maitre Aubin rectifies: 'Many visitors you mean.'

"THE PRESIDENT. 'Mme. Wolff, I want you to tell the jury whether you remember having heard Mme. Steinheil exclaim shortly after the murder: "At last, I am free!" You have admitted it during the inquiry.'

"'She was ill at the time and she certainly did not mean that she rejoiced at being a widow. Women say a lot of things when they are ill.

She probably meant that she was glad her nurse had left the room, for she cared little for her.'

"Mariette never commits herself. She reminds one forcibly of the Norman peasant who being asked for his opinion on the apple crop replied: 'You can't say there are apples, because there are no apples, but you can't say there are no apples, because there are apples.'

"The President continues his interrogations: 'Did Mme. Steinheil love her husband? You ought to know, for no one knows more about people than their servants.'

"'Servants see everything but should say nothing.'

"'It has been established that Mme. Steinheil once sent her husband to his studio....'

"'Well, what does that prove? Even the most devoted of wives lose their temper at times....'

"'Did Mme. Steinheil love her mother?'

"'When Mme. j.a.py came, she was welcomed...."

"'Then how do you explain that Mme. Steinheil once said: "Mother again"?'

"'Even the best of daughters can say a thing like that.'

"'Mme. Steinheil sent you some time after the crime to Vert-Logis to fetch a little box which we believed contained her jewels. What was there in that box?'

"'I don't know. Servants are not supposed to know what such parcels contain.'

"'You are a model servant,' says the President ironically.

"'I am not a model, thank you.'

"'Did you take your mistress' dressing-gown to the dyers after the crime?'

"'I don't remember. It is possible'....

"'Did you know anything about the tapestries which disappeared from the studio on the night of the crime?'

"'I have never seen them.'

"'Then you are in contradiction with Mme. Steinheil?'

"'I have nothing to do with the studio; I very seldom venture in... I am a cook and my place is in the kitchen.'

"The President then asks very quickly, in order to catch her, a number of questions about the facts which immediately preceded and followed the eventful night, but it is a case of amnesia... Mariette remembers nothing. 'After all those horrors,' she says, 'our minds have become blanks.'

"The President now deals with what happened on the other fatal night, the 'Night of the Confession.'

"'What happened on November 25th, in the evening?'

"Three journalists who were continually pestering us, Messrs. de Labruyere, Hutin and Barby, arrived at seven-thirty. Madame only came at nine.'...

"'Did you listen at the door? Witnesses have a.s.serted it.'

"'It is false. Let them come and say it to me.' Mariette is quite angry.

"'When your mistress went to bed, you had a long talk with her?'

"'Is not that natural? The poor woman, she looked like a corpse; she asked me for strychnine. She wanted to die and I kept on repeating: "It's all right... be calm." And then, when I saw M. Barby listening behind, I told him: "You have no business here. Clear out."'

"Mariette uses the strongest expression in the French language to order a rapid exit. She speaks so vehemently, and, it must be added, convincingly, that every one in the Court is impressed. Once more there is a general murmur of disapproval at the conduct of certain journalists."