At The Villa Rose

Celia did not foresee the hatred she was arousing; nor, on the

other hand, did she foresee the overwhelming effect of these

spiritualistic seances on Mme. Dauvray. Celia had never been

brought quite close to the credulous before.

"There had always been the row of footlights," she said. "I was on

the platform; the audience was in the hall; or, if it was at a

house, my father made the arrangements. I only came in at the last

moment, played my part, and went away. It was never brought home

to me that some amongst these people really and truly believed. I

did not think about it. Now, however, when I saw Mme. Dauvray so

feverish, so excited, so firmly convinced that great ladies from

the spirit world came and spoke to her, I became terrified. I had

aroused a passion which I had not suspected. I tried to stop the

seances, but I was not allowed. I had aroused a passion which I

could not control. 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. 'Mme. Dauvray would have had seances all

day, but Mlle. Celie pleaded that she was left exhausted at the

end of them. But Mlle. Celie was of an address.' And again,

speaking of Mme. Dauvray's queer craze that the spirit of Mme. de

Montespan should be called up, Helene Vauquier says: 'She was

never gratified. Always she hoped. Always Mlle. Celie tantalised

her with the hope. She would not spoil her fine affairs by making

these treats too common.' Thus she attributes your reluctance to

multiply your experiments to a desire to make the most profit

possible out of your wares, like a good business woman."