Not Guilty

As a medical interne back in the '30s, handsome Pierre Chevallier was a young man of promise and of promises. The promise was fulfilled during the next 15 years as Pierre became a well-liked and successful physician, a hero of the resistance, the respected mayor of Orleans, a junior cabinet minister at 42. The promises he made to his bride Yvonne were less handsomely honored. A year ago, Yvonne shot her brilliant husband dead, just a day after his appointment to Rene Pleven's cabinet as Secretary of State for Technical Instruction, Youth & Sport (TIME, Aug. 20, 1951).

Too Much Coffee. Last week, after 15 months in jail awaiting trial, Yvonne sat huddled in grief as Judge Raymond Jadin recapitulated the facts of her life, of how she left a peasant home to become a midwife, of how she met the young interne Chevallier and, at 23, became his mistress. Was it her first affair? "Out, M. le President," murmured Yvonne, "it was exactly the 23rd of May, 1935. I remember it well."

The judge went on to describe her subsequent marriage, her husband's meteoric career and her own sense of inadequacy as he forged ahead. "You drank too much coffee? You smoked too many cigarettes? You made abusive scenes, scenes of jealousy?" "Not true, monsieur," sobbed Yvonne.

The judge pursed his lips and went on to the day, June 13, 1951, when Yvonne found in her husband's wallet a love letter signed "Jeannette." Soon afterwards, she bought herself a revolver.

At last the judge reached one fatal morning on which Chevallier came home to the wife who had waited all night for him. Yvonne threatened suicide. "Go ahead," Pierre told her, "only wait until I've cleared out." According to Yvonne's testimony, she then picked up her gun, intending to do away with herself--but in the heat of the moment she absentmindedly pumped four shots into Pierre. Her small son Matthieu promptly burst into tears. She took him down to the concierge. Then she went upstairs, planning once again to kill herself. As she thought of Matthieu and another, elder son, her arm went limp and--bang--there went another slug into Pierre. The courtroom sighed in sympathy.

Too Much Promise. The courtroom hissed, however, when slight, shifty Roger Perreau, husband of Pierre's light-of-love, testified that he had refused to interfere with his wife's affair with Pierre because "I didn't want any fuss or scandal." It froze into stony silence when redhaired, creamy-skinned Jeanne Perreau herself announced: "I have a husband who is a good companion. I intend to stay with him. Pierre Chevallier loved me. I loved him. For love, one is never punished."

The prosecuting attorney doubted the story of the accidental shots. He reproved Yvonne severely for keeping a loaded revolver, and for selfishly sacrificing a "publie figure . . . rich with promise." "You had no right to do that," he said. But all he asked by way of admonition was two years in prison. The jury took 40 minutes to think it over. When they at last decided, the judge asked: "Is the accused guilty of having fired at and wounded Pierre Chevallier?" The answer: a unanimous "No!"

Outside the courtroom, thousands of bright-eyed housewives stood waiting in a drizzle of rain. When the verdict was announced, they broke into an ear-splitting cheer. "Bravo, Yvonne! Bravo!" The drenching rain trickled down their husbands' coat collars, and the husbands of France shivered.

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