The Baudy couple awaited the return of Rosalie Dusser with the beasts she customarily drove back from the Chambasse woods. Eight o'clock in the evening struck without her appearance. At first, her master and mistress lingered, expecting her momentarily; then, taking to the road, they set out in search of her. The cattle were returning to the byre unattended. A short distance away, Rosalie lay stretched upon the grass. It was already too late to recall her to life. That same evening, a neighbour recalled having heard two gunshots; close beside the body, he recognised the shattered weapon of Antoine Gouy, the girl’s cousin.
Rosalie was employed in the service of the Baudy spouses, proprietors of a farmstead in the commune of Nozières, in the Ardèche. Antoine Gouy, her cousin, was a farmhand in the same house. This kinship had by no means ensured a peaceful coexistence. Gouy had made advances to Rosalie which she firmly repulsed; she then complained to her employers of the liberties he took and the violence to which she was subjected. His conduct escalated to outright threats. One day, he reportedly told her: “You shun me now, but sooner or later, you shall pay for it!” The chronicle records this phrase in its relation of the events preceding her demise.
Rosalie informed the Baudys that she would be compelled to leave their service if Gouy remained under their roof. Valuing her labour, they soon dismissed the cousin, with whom they were likewise dissatisfied. The young man sought employment elsewhere, but his poor reputation hampered his efforts. He returned, begging to be taken back. Out of compassion, the Baudys eventually consented, but not before exacting his solemn promise that he would cease tormenting Rosalie. The farmhand’s return to the household was thus subject to an explicit condition arising from his cousin’s complaints. Champagnac traces Gouy’s enduring resentment to this juncture: according to the chronicler, he no longer viewed Rosalie with his former disposition, but with sullen malice and rancour. The source records nothing of their day-to-day encounters following his reinstatement, focusing instead upon the pledge given to the Baudys and the preparations that ensued.
A few days prior to the 27th of July, 1828, Gouy went about procuring powder and lead for his musket. He asked Romain Betton for two lead balls, offering a small measure of powder in trade. Later, he requested an additional two ounces of powder, claiming he intended to go hunting, and asserted that his piece was loaded to the depth of seven fingers. These transactions assumed a vastly different significance when, on Sunday the 27th of July, Rosalie failed to return from the Chambasse woods; yet, at the moment they occurred, Gouy offered only the ordinary pretext of a shooting excursion. On that Sunday, Betton was in his hayloft when he asked Gouy whether he had been out hunting and had brought anything down. Gouy replied that he had not fired a shot, claiming he had seen only small birds unworthy of the powder. Betton later recounted that he himself remembered hearing two gunshots from his hayloft, somewhere between eight o'clock and half past eight.
Rosalie watched over the cattle and was accustomed to driving them home to the farm around eight o'clock. That evening, her employers waited past the hour. Setting out, they first encountered the livestock making their way back alone, and shortly thereafter discovered the young woman’s body. The narrative relates that some warmth still lingered in the flesh; the Baudys attempted to revive her, but their efforts were in vain. They immediately raised the alarm with whomever they met upon the road.
Betton was among the first to receive the tidings. He recalled that between eight and half past eight he had heard two gunshots in the direction where Rosalie had just been found. Running to the woods, he discovered, mere paces from the body, Gouy’s gun broken into several fragments. Suspicion had already fallen upon the farmhand; the recovery of the weapon lent it material weight. The magistrates and physicians certified that the girl had been slain by two gunshot wounds. The violent injuries noted upon the body were detailed in the original record, though it is unnecessary to reproduce them here to grasp the substance of the charge.
Gouy was apprehended. He confessed immediately, and throughout the preliminary examination he adhered to his initial admission. He conceded that he had gone into the woods with evil intent, having harboured for several days the desire to wound Rosalie with his gun in order to terrify her. She wept upon encountering him, according to his deposition; he fired. The young woman did not fall. She fled, crying out that he would suffer the very fate he intended for her. Gouy explained that he then weighed the consequences of being denounced, and resolved to fire a second time. He likewise confessed to having beaten her with the weapon before abandoning her near the spot where she fell.
Gouy’s deposition tied the violence of the 27th of July directly to Rosalie’s previous refusals. He stated that he bore her ill will because she rejected his advances and accused him of seeking to compromise her, as he claimed to have done with other women. These were the motives he offered during the examination, not an explanation meant to soften or excuse his deed. The chronicle borrows the vocabulary of passion to frame the tragedy; yet the sequence of events it sets forth depicts above all a young woman who had sought protection from her masters, and a man readmitted to the hearth upon the pledge that he would cease to persecute her.
In January 1829, Gouy stood trial before the Assize Court of the Ardèche. At the opening of the proceedings, he appeared cowed and hesitant, casting uneasy glances about the courtroom. He subsequently answered with greater composure, confirming what the witnesses had declared and acknowledging the particulars set forth in the indictment. His counsel made no attempt to contest the facts, leaving the prisoner’s fate to the wisdom of the jury. Following a brief deliberation, the jurors returned a verdict of guilty, and he was sentenced to death.
The court decreed that the execution should take place upon the scene of the crime, in the very woods where Rosalie had perished. Gouy exhibited no visible emotion upon hearing the sentence, nor did he lodge an appeal in cassation. The judgment was carried into execution a few days later. The narrative concludes with this penalty, tracing no further the lives of the Dusser family or the Baudy household after the trial. The chosen place of execution brought the retribution of the law back to the ground where the crime had taken root, between the herd left wandering upon the path and the shattered weapon lying beside the fallen girl.
The evidentiary elements gathered that evening were of diverse nature: the sound of gunfire heard by Betton, a broken weapon found near the victim, Gouy’s admissions during the inquiry, and his confession before the jury. Betton’s testimony placed the shots between eight and half past eight; the Baudys knew only that Rosalie was late in returning, having witnessed nothing of the assault. For his part, the accused admitted having fired after encountering his cousin in the woods. The depositions and the confession ensured his condemnation; none of these circumstances, however, alter the fundamental fact that the young woman had refused his advances, and that her death was the direct outcome of his resolve to attack her.