I was afraid that Mme.
Dauvray's whole life--it seems absurd to those who did not know her, but those who did will understand--yes, her whole life and happiness would be spoilt if she discovered that what she believed in was all a trick." She spoke with a simplicity and a remorse which it was difficult to disbelieve.

M.Fleuriot, the judge, now at last convinced that the Dreyfus affair was for nothing in the history of this crime, listened to her with sympathy.
"That is your explanation, mademoiselle," he said gently.

"But I must tell you that we have another." "Yes, monsieur ?" Celia asked.
"Given by Helene Vauquier," said Fleuriot.
Even after these days Celia could not hear that woman's name without a shudder of fear and a flinching of her whole body.

Her face grew white, her lips dry.
"I know, monsieur, that Helene Vauquier is not my friend," she said.

"I was taught that very cruelly." "Listen, mademoiselle, to what she says," said the judge, and he read out to Celia an extract or two from Hanaud's report of his first interview with Helene Vauquier in her bedroom at the Villa Rose.
"You hear what she says.