I spent hours of torture. I wondered what I should say. I had already been asked about the jewels that had disappeared on the night of May 30th-31st. Was I to speak of those given me by M. B., the Attorney-General, and years later by President Faure (which had been stolen), and most of which were exactly copied from those my husband had given me, but set with more valuable stones?... But if I did, my reputation would be ruined in the eyes of my daughter, who worshipped her mother and who was engaged to be married, and of many friends who believed implicitly in me.... No, no, since the jewels had been stolen I would describe them without saying whence they came, and I would alter the duplicates I had at Bellevue.
Here a clear explanation becomes necessary, inasmuch as the prosecution tried to prove that _no jewels had been stolen_ and that I was the murderer. The jewel problem (_la question des bijoux_) was perhaps the most complex of all in that mysterious affair; and, although I spoke the whole truth to M. André, who became my examining magistrate after M. Leydet, I was not believed, and there were inevitably such contradictions between the statements I made on the matter at various times that my case became prejudiced. And yet this jewel problem was no problem at all, as the reader will no doubt agree after the following explanation:
Besides the money and the ten large pearls and my mother's jewels, there were stolen on the night of the double murder a diamond crescent, a few minor jewels of no great value, a gold chain and three valuable rings.
The diamond crescent which was stolen had been given me by President Faure, but I had a similar one at Bellevue, given me by my husband, from which it had been copied (only with better stones, as I stated before). I had thus been able in the days of Félix Faure to wear his crescent (worn as a brooch or in the hair) without my husband being able to make remarks. True, the President had given me a brooch with the three colours of France, and a Lalique comb, but he had done so at the beginning of our acquaintance and in the presence of my husband. I may at once say that the comb was in a cabinet in the drawing-room, and was not stolen. The cornflower-marguerite-poppy brooch was stolen, but I did not mention it, because it would have led to questions about my friendship with Félix Faure.