English
AfterMercedeshadleftMonteCristo,hefellintoprofoundgloom.
Aroundhimandwithinhimtheflightofthoughtseemedtohavestopped;hisenergeticmindslumbered,asthebodydoesafterextremefatigue.“What?”
saidhetohimself,whilethelampandthewaxlightswerenearlyburntout,andtheservantswerewaitingimpatientlyintheanteroom;“what?
thisedificewhichIhavebeensolongpreparing,whichIhaverearedwithsomuchcareandtoil,istobecrushedbyasingletouch,aword,abreath!
Yes,thisself,ofwhomIthoughtsomuch,ofwhomIwassoproud,whohadappearedsoworthlessinthedungeonsoftheChateaud’If,andwhomIhadsucceededinmakingsogreat,willbebutalumpofclayto–morrow.
Alas,itisnotthedeathofthebodyIregret;forisnotthedestructionofthevitalprinciple,thereposetowhicheverythingistending,towhicheveryunhappybeingaspires,—isnotthisthereposeofmatterafterwhichIsolongsighed,andwhichIwasseekingtoattainbythepainfulprocessofstarvationwhenFariaappearedinmydungeon?Whatisdeathforme?
Onestepfartherintorest,—two,perhaps,intosilence.
“No,itisnotexistence,then,thatIregret,buttheruinofprojectssoslowlycarriedout,solaboriouslyframed.
Providenceisnowopposedtothem,whenImostthoughtitwouldbepropitious.
ItisnotGod’swillthattheyshouldbeaccomplished.
Thisburden,almostasheavyasaworld,whichIhadraised,andIhadthoughttobeartotheend,wastoogreatformystrength,andIwascompelledtolayitdowninthemiddleofmycareer.
Oh,shallIthen,againbecomeafatalist,whomfourteenyearsofdespairandtenofhopehadrenderedabelieverinprovidence?
Andallthis—allthis,becausemyheart,whichIthoughtdead,wasonlysleeping;becauseithasawakenedandhasbeguntobeatagain,becauseIhaveyieldedtothepainoftheemotionexcitedinmybreastbyawoman’svoice.
Yet,”continuedthecount,becomingeachmomentmoreabsorbedintheanticipationofthedreadfulsacrificeforthemorrow,whichMercedeshadaccepted,“yet,itisimpossiblethatsonoble–mindedawomanshouldthusthroughselfishnessconsenttomydeathwhenIamintheprimeoflifeandstrength;itisimpossiblethatshecancarrytosuchapointmaternallove,orratherdelirium.
Therearevirtueswhichbecomecrimesbyexaggeration.
No,shemusthaveconceivedsomepatheticscene;shewillcomeandthrowherselfbetweenus;andwhatwouldbesublimeherewillthereappearridiculous.”
Theblushofpridemountedtothecount’sforeheadasthisthoughtpassedthroughhismind.“Ridiculous?”
repeatedhe;“andtheridiculewillfallonme.Iridiculous?No,Iwouldratherdie.”
Bythusexaggeratingtohisownmindtheanticipatedill–fortuneofthenextday,towhichhehadcondemnedhimselfbypromisingMercedestospareherson,thecountatlastexclaimed,“Folly,folly,folly!
—tocarrygenerositysofarastoputmyselfupasamarkforthatyoungmantoaimat.
Hewillneverbelievethatmydeathwassuicide;andyetitisimportantforthehonorofmymemory,—andthissurelyisnotvanity,butajustifiablepride,—itisimportanttheworldshouldknowthatIhaveconsented,bymyfreewill,tostopmyarm,alreadyraisedtostrike,andthatwiththearmwhichhasbeensopowerfulagainstothersIhavestruckmyself.Itmustbe;itshallbe.”
Seizingapen,hedrewapaperfromasecretdrawerinhisdesk,andwroteatthebottomofthedocument(whichwasnootherthanhiswill,madesincehisarrivalinParis)asortofcodicil,clearlyexplainingthenatureofhisdeath.
“Idothis,OmyGod,”saidhe,withhiseyesraisedtoheaven,“asmuchforthyhonorasformine.
Ihaveduringtenyearsconsideredmyselftheagentofthyvengeance,andotherwretches,likeMorcerf,Danglars,Villefort,evenMorcerfhimself,mustnotimaginethatchancehasfreedthemfromtheirenemy.
Letthemknow,onthecontrary,thattheirpunishment,whichhadbeendecreedbyprovidence,isonlydelayedbymypresentdetermination,andalthoughtheyescapeitinthisworld,itawaitstheminanother,andthattheyareonlyexchangingtimeforeternity.”
Whilehewasthusagitatedbygloomyuncertainties,—wretchedwakingdreamsofgrief,—thefirstraysofmorningpiercedhiswindows,andshoneuponthepalebluepaperonwhichhehadjustinscribedhisjustificationofprovidence.
Itwasjustfiveo’clockinthemorningwhenaslightnoiselikeastifledsighreachedhisear.
Heturnedhishead,lookedaroundhim,andsawnoone;butthesoundwasrepeateddistinctlyenoughtoconvincehimofitsreality.
Hearose,andquietlyopeningthedoorofthedrawing–room,sawHaidee,whohadfallenonachair,withherarmshangingdownandherbeautifulheadthrownback.
Shehadbeenstandingatthedoor,topreventhisgoingoutwithoutseeingher,untilsleep,whichtheyoungcannotresist,hadoverpoweredherframe,weariedasshewaswithwatching.
Thenoiseofthedoordidnotawakenher,andMonteCristogazedatherwithaffectionateregret.
“Sherememberedthatshehadason,”saidhe;“andIforgotIhadadaughter.”
Then,shakinghisheadsorrowfully,“PoorHaidee,”saidhe;“shewishedtoseeme,tospeaktome;shehasfearedorguessedsomething.
Oh,Icannotgowithouttakingleaveofher;Icannotdiewithoutconfidinghertosomeone.”
Hequietlyregainedhisseat,andwroteundertheotherlines:—
“IbequeathtoMaximilianMorrel,captainofSpahis,—andsonofmyformerpatron,PierreMorrel,shipowneratMarseilles,—thesumoftwentymillions,apartofwhichmaybeofferedtohissisterJuliaandbrother–in–lawEmmanuel,ifhedoesnotfearthisincreaseoffortunemaymartheirhappiness.
ThesetwentymillionsareconcealedinmygrottoatMonteCristo,ofwhichBertuccioknowsthesecret.
Ifhisheartisfree,andhewillmarryHaidee,thedaughterofAliPashaofYanina,whomIhavebroughtupwiththeloveofafather,andwhohasshowntheloveandtendernessofadaughterforme,hewillthusaccomplishmylastwish.
ThiswillhasalreadyconstitutedHaideeheiressoftherestofmyfortune,consistingoflands,fundsinEngland,Austria,andHolland,furnitureinmydifferentpalacesandhouses,andwhichwithoutthetwentymillionsandthelegaciestomyservants,maystillamounttosixtymillions.”
Hewasfinishingthelastlinewhenacrybehindhimmadehimstart,andthepenfellfromhishand.“Haidee,”saidhe,“didyoureadit?”
“Oh,mylord,”saidshe,“whyareyouwritingthusatsuchanhour?Whyareyoubequeathingallyourfortunetome?Areyougoingtoleaveme?”
“Iamgoingonajourney,dearchild,”saidMonteCristo,withanexpressionofinfinitetendernessandmelancholy;“andifanymisfortuneshouldhappentome.”
Thecountstopped.“Well?”
askedtheyounggirl,withanauthoritativetonethecounthadneverobservedbefore,andwhichstartledhim.
“Well,ifanymisfortunehappentome,”repliedMonteCristo,“Iwishmydaughtertobehappy.”
Haideesmiledsorrowfully,andshookherhead.“Doyouthinkofdying,mylord?”saidshe.
“Thewiseman,mychild,hassaid,‘Itisgoodtothinkofdeath.’”
“Well,ifyoudie,”saidshe,“bequeathyourfortunetoothers,forifyoudieIshallrequirenothing;”and,takingthepaper,shetoreitinfourpieces,andthrewitintothemiddleoftheroom.
Then,theefforthavingexhaustedherstrength,shefellnotasleepthistime,butfaintingonthefloor.
Thecountleanedoverherandraisedherinhisarms;andseeingthatsweetpaleface,thoselovelyeyesclosed,thatbeautifulformmotionlessandtoallappearancelifeless,theideaoccurredtohimforthefirsttime,thatperhapsshelovedhimotherwisethanasadaughterlovesafather.
“Alas,”murmuredhe,withintensesuffering,“Imight,then,havebeenhappyyet.”
ThenhecarriedHaideetoherroom,resignedhertothecareofherattendants,andreturningtohisstudy,whichheshutquicklythistime,heagaincopiedthedestroyedwill.
Ashewasfinishing,thesoundofacabrioletenteringtheyardwasheard.
MonteCristoapproachedthewindow,andsawMaximilianandEmmanuelalight.
“Good,”saidhe;“itwastime,”—andhesealedhiswillwiththreeseals.
Amomentafterwardsheheardanoiseinthedrawing–room,andwenttoopenthedoorhimself.
Morrelwasthere;hehadcometwentyminutesbeforethetimeappointed.
“Iamperhapscometoosoon,count,”saidhe,“butIfranklyacknowledgethatIhavenotclosedmyeyesallnight,norhasanyoneinmyhouse.
Ineedtoseeyoustronginyourcourageousassurance,torecovermyself.”
MonteCristocouldnotresistthisproofofaffection;henotonlyextendedhishandtotheyoungman,butflewtohimwithopenarms.
“Morrel,”saidhe,“itisahappydayforme,tofeelthatIambelovedbysuchamanasyou.
Good–morning,Emmanuel;youwillcomewithmethen,Maximilian?”
“Didyoudoubtit?”saidtheyoungcaptain.
“ButifIwerewrong”—
“Iwatchedyouduringthewholesceneofthatchallengeyesterday;Ihavebeenthinkingofyourfirmnessallnight,andIsaidtomyselfthatjusticemustbeonyourside,orman’scountenanceisnolongertobereliedon.”
“But,Morrel,Albertisyourfriend?”
“Simplyanacquaintance,sir.”
“Youmetonthesamedayyoufirstsawme?”
“Yes,thatistrue;butIshouldnothaverecollecteditifyouhadnotremindedme.”
“Thankyou,Morrel.”Thenringingthebellonce,“Look.”saidhetoAli,whocameimmediately,“takethattomysolicitor.Itismywill,Morrel.WhenIamdead,youwillgoandexamineit.”
“What?”saidMorrel,“youdead?”
“Yes;mustInotbepreparedforeverything,dearfriend?Butwhatdidyoudoyesterdayafteryouleftme?”
“IwenttoTortoni’s,where,asIexpected,IfoundBeauchampandChateau–Renaud.IownIwasseekingthem.”
“Why,whenallwasarranged?”
“Listen,count;theaffairisseriousandunavoidable.”
“Didyoudoubtit!”
“No;theoffencewaspublic,andeveryoneisalreadytalkingofit.”
“Well?”
“Well,Ihopedtogetanexchangeofarms,—tosubstitutetheswordforthepistol;thepistolisblind.”
“Haveyousucceeded?”askedMonteCristoquickly,withanimperceptiblegleamofhope.
“No;foryourskillwiththeswordissowellknown.”
“Ah?—whohasbetrayedme?”
“Theskilfulswordsmanwhomyouhaveconquered.”
“Andyoufailed?”
“Theypositivelyrefused.”
“Morrel,”saidthecount,“haveyoueverseenmefireapistol?”
“Never.”
“Well,wehavetime;look.”MonteCristotookthepistolsheheldinhishandwhenMercedesentered,andfixinganaceofclubsagainsttheironplate,withfourshotshesuccessivelyshotoffthefoursidesoftheclub.AteachshotMorrelturnedpale.
HeexaminedthebulletswithwhichMonteCristoperformedthisdexterousfeat,andsawthattheywerenolargerthanbuckshot.“Itisastonishing,”saidhe.“Look,Emmanuel.”
ThenturningtowardsMonteCristo,“Count,”saidhe,“inthenameofallthatisdeartoyou,IentreatyounottokillAlbert!—theunhappyyouthhasamother.”
“Youareright,”saidMonteCristo;“andIhavenone.”ThesewordswereutteredinatonewhichmadeMorrelshudder.“Youaretheoffendedparty,count.”
“Doubtless;whatdoesthatimply?”
“Thatyouwillfirefirst.”
“Ifirefirst?”
“Oh,Iobtained,orratherclaimedthat;wehadconcededenoughforthemtoyieldusthat.”
“Andatwhatdistance?”
“Twentypaces.”Asmileofterribleimportpassedoverthecount’slips.“Morrel,”saidhe,“donotforgetwhatyouhavejustseen.”
“TheonlychanceforAlbert’ssafety,then,willarisefromyouremotion.”
“Isufferfromemotion?”saidMonteCristo.
“Orfromyourgenerosity,myfriend;tosogoodamarksmanasyouare,Imaysaywhatwouldappearabsurdtoanother.”
“Whatisthat?”
“Breakhisarm—woundhim—butdonotkillhim.”
“Iwilltellyou,Morrel,”saidthecount,“thatIdonotneedentreatingtosparethelifeofM.deMorcerf;heshallbesowellspared,thathewillreturnquietlywithhistwofriends,whileI”—
“Andyou?”
“Thatwillbeanotherthing;Ishallbebroughthome.”
“No,no,”criedMaximilian,quiteunabletorestrainhisfeelings.
“AsItoldyou,mydearMorrel,M.deMorcerfwillkillme.”Morrellookedathiminutteramazement.“Butwhathashappened,then,sincelastevening,count?”
“ThesamethingthathappenedtoBrutusthenightbeforethebattleofPhilippi;Ihaveseenaghost.”
“Andthatghost”—
“Toldme,Morrel,thatIhadlivedlongenough.”
MaximilianandEmmanuellookedateachother.MonteCristodrewouthiswatch.
“Letusgo,”saidhe;“itisfiveminutespastseven,andtheappointmentwasforeighto’clock.”
Acarriagewasinreadinessatthedoor.
MonteCristosteppedintoitwithhistwofriends.
Hehadstoppedamomentinthepassagetolistenatadoor,andMaximilianandEmmanuel,whohadconsideratelypassedforwardafewsteps,thoughttheyheardhimanswerbyasightoasobfromwithin.
Astheclockstruckeighttheydroveuptotheplaceofmeeting.
“Wearefirst,”saidMorrel,lookingoutofthewindow.
“Excuseme,sir,”saidBaptistin,whohadfollowedhismasterwithindescribableterror,“butIthinkIseeacarriagedownthereunderthetrees.”
MonteCristospranglightlyfromthecarriage,andofferedhishandtoassistEmmanuelandMaximilian.
Thelatterretainedthecount’shandbetweenhis.
“Ilike,”saidhe,“tofeelahandlikethis,whenitsownerreliesonthegoodnessofhiscause.”
“Itseemstome,”saidEmmanuel,“thatIseetwoyoungmendownthere,whoareevidently,waiting.”
MonteCristodrewMorrelasteportwobehindhisbrother–in–law.
“Maximilian,”saidhe,“areyouraffectionsdisengaged?”
MorrellookedatMonteCristowithastonishment.
“Idonotseekyourconfidence,mydearfriend.
Ionlyaskyouasimplequestion;answerit;—thatisallIrequire.”
“Iloveayounggirl,count.”
“Doyoulovehermuch?”
“Morethanmylife.”
“Anotherhopedefeated!”saidthecount.Then,withasigh,“PoorHaidee!”murmuredhe.
“Totellthetruth,count,ifIknewlessofyou,Ishouldthinkthatyouwerelessbravethanyouare.”
“BecauseIsighwhenthinkingofsomeoneIamleaving?
Come,Morrel,itisnotlikeasoldiertobesobadajudgeofcourage.DoIregretlife?
Whatisittome,whohavepassedtwentyyearsbetweenlifeanddeath?
Moreover,donotalarmyourself,Morrel;thisweakness,ifitissuch,isbetrayedtoyoualone.
Iknowtheworldisadrawing–room,fromwhichwemustretirepolitelyandhonestly;thatis,withabow,andourdebtsofhonorpaid.”
“Thatistothepurpose.Haveyoubroughtyourarms?”
“I?—whatfor?Ihopethesegentlemenhavetheirs.”
“Iwillinquire,”saidMorrel.
“Do;butmakenotreaty—youunderstandme?”
“Youneednotfear.”MorreladvancedtowardsBeauchampandChateau–Renaud,who,seeinghisintention,cametomeethim.Thethreeyoungmenbowedtoeachothercourteously,ifnotaffably.
“Excuseme,gentlemen,”saidMorrel,“butIdonotseeM.deMorcerf.”
“Hesentuswordthismorning,”repliedChateau–Renaud,“thathewouldmeetusontheground.”
“Ah,”saidMorrel.Beauchamppulledouthiswatch.“Itisonlyfiveminutespasteight,”saidhetoMorrel;“thereisnotmuchtimelostyet.”
“Oh,Imadenoallusionofthatkind,”repliedMorrel.
“Thereisacarriagecoming,”saidChateau–Renaud.
Itadvancedrapidlyalongoneoftheavenuesleadingtowardstheopenspacewheretheywereassembled.
“Youaredoubtlessprovidedwithpistols,gentlemen?
M.deMonteCristoyieldshisrightofusinghis.”
“Wehadanticipatedthiskindnessonthepartofthecount,”saidBeauchamp,“andIhavebroughtsomeweaponswhichIboughteightortendayssince,thinkingtowantthemonasimilaroccasion.
Theyarequitenew,andhavenotyetbeenused.Willyouexaminethem.”
“Oh,M.Beauchamp,ifyouassuremethatM.deMorcerfdoesnotknowthesepistols,youmayreadilybelievethatyourwordwillbequitesufficient.”
“Gentlemen,”saidChateau–Renaud,“itisnotMorcerfcominginthatcarriage;—faith,itisFranzandDebray!”
Thetwoyoungmenheannouncedwereindeedapproaching.
“Whatchancebringsyouhere,gentlemen?”
saidChateau–Renaud,shakinghandswitheachofthem.
“Because,”saidDebray,“Albertsentthismorningtorequestustocome.”
BeauchampandChateau–Renaudexchangedlooksofastonishment.
“IthinkIunderstandhisreason,”saidMorrel.
“Whatisit?”
“YesterdayafternoonIreceivedaletterfromM.deMorcerf,beggingmetoattendtheopera.”
“AndI,”saidDebray.
“AndIalso,”saidFranz.
“Andwe,too,”addedBeauchampandChateau–Renaud.
“Havingwishedyoualltowitnessthechallenge,henowwishesyoutobepresentatthecombat.”
“Exactlyso,”saidtheyoungmen;“youhaveprobablyguessedright.”
“But,afterallthesearrangements,hedoesnotcomehimself,”saidChateau–Renaud.“Albertistenminutesaftertime.”
“Therehecomes,”saidBeauchamp,“onhorseback,atfullgallop,followedbyaservant.”
“Howimprudent,”saidChateau–Renaud,“tocomeonhorsebacktofightaduelwithpistols,afteralltheinstructionsIhadgivenhim.”
“Andbesides,”saidBeauchamp,“withacollarabovehiscravat,anopencoatandwhitewaistcoat!
Whyhashenotpaintedaspotuponhisheart?—itwouldhavebeenmoresimple.”
MeanwhileAlberthadarrivedwithintenpacesofthegroupformedbythefiveyoungmen.
Hejumpedfromhishorse,threwthebridleonhisservant’sarms,andjoinedthem.
Hewaspale,andhiseyeswereredandswollen;itwasevidentthathehadnotslept.
Ashadeofmelancholygravityoverspreadhiscountenance,whichwasnotnaturaltohim.
“Ithankyou,gentlemen,”saidhe,“forhavingcompliedwithmyrequest;Ifeelextremelygratefulforthismarkoffriendship.”
MorrelhadsteppedbackasMorcerfapproached,andremainedatashortdistance.
“Andtoyoualso,M.Morrel,mythanksaredue.Come,therecannotbetoomany.”
“Sir,”saidMaximilian,“youarenotperhapsawarethatIamM.deMonteCristo’sfriend?”
“Iwasnotsure,butIthoughtitmightbeso.Somuchthebetter;themorehonorablementhereareherethebetterIshallbesatisfied.”
“M.Morrel,”saidChateau–Renaud,“willyouapprisetheCountofMonteCristothatM.deMorcerfisarrived,andweareathisdisposal?”
Morrelwaspreparingtofulfilhiscommission.
Beauchamphadmeanwhiledrawntheboxofpistolsfromthecarriage.
“Stop,gentlemen,”saidAlbert;“IhavetwowordstosaytotheCountofMonteCristo.”
“Inprivate?”askedMorrel.
“No,sir;beforeallwhoarehere.”
Albert’switnesseslookedateachother.
FranzandDebrayexchangedsomewordsinawhisper,andMorrel,rejoicedatthisunexpectedincident,wenttofetchthecount,whowaswalkinginaretiredpathwithEmmanuel.“Whatdoeshewantwithme?”saidMonteCristo.
“Idonotknow,buthewishestospeaktoyou.”
“Ah?”saidMonteCristo,“Itrustheisnotgoingtotemptmebysomefreshinsult!”
“Idonotthinkthatsuchishisintention,”saidMorrel.
Thecountadvanced,accompaniedbyMaximilianandEmmanuel.
HiscalmandserenelookformedasingularcontrasttoAlbert’sgrief–strickenface,whoapproachedalso,followedbytheotherfouryoungmen.
Whenatthreepacesdistantfromeachother,Albertandthecountstopped.
“Approach,gentlemen,”saidAlbert;“IwishyounottoloseonewordofwhatIamabouttohavethehonorofsayingtotheCountofMonteCristo,foritmustberepeatedbyyoutoallwhowilllistentoit,strangeasitmayappeartoyou.”
“Proceed,sir,”saidthecount.
“Sir,”saidAlbert,atfirstwithatremulousvoice,butwhichgraduallybecamefirmer,“IreproachedyouwithexposingtheconductofM.deMorcerfinEpirus,forguiltyasIknewhewas,Ithoughtyouhadnorighttopunishhim;butIhavesincelearnedthatyouhadthatright.
ItisnotFernandMondego’streacherytowardsAliPashawhichinducesmesoreadilytoexcuseyou,butthetreacheryofthefishermanFernandtowardsyou,andthealmostunheard–ofmiserieswhichwereitsconsequences;andIsay,andproclaimitpublicly,thatyouwerejustifiedinrevengingyourselfonmyfather,andI,hisson,thankyoufornotusinggreaterseverity.”
Hadathunderboltfalleninthemidstofthespectatorsofthisunexpectedscene,itwouldnothavesurprisedthemmorethandidAlbert’sdeclaration.
AsforMonteCristo,hiseyesslowlyrosetowardsheavenwithanexpressionofinfinitegratitude.
HecouldnotunderstandhowAlbert’sfierynature,ofwhichhehadseensomuchamongtheRomanbandits,hadsuddenlystoopedtothishumiliation.
HerecognizedtheinfluenceofMercedes,andsawwhyhernoblehearthadnotopposedthesacrificesheknewbeforehandwouldbeuseless.
“Now,sir,”saidAlbert,“ifyouthinkmyapologysufficient,praygivemeyourhand.
Nexttothemeritofinfallibilitywhichyouappeartopossess,Irankthatofcandidlyacknowledgingafault.Butthisconfessionconcernsmeonly.
Iactedwellasaman,butyouhaveactedbetterthanman.
Anangelalonecouldhavesavedoneofusfromdeath—thatangelcamefromheaven,ifnottomakeusfriends(which,alas,fatalityrendersimpossible),atleasttomakeusesteemeachother.”
MonteCristo,withmoistenedeye,heavingbreast,andlipshalfopen,extendedtoAlbertahandwhichthelatterpressedwithasentimentresemblingrespectfulfear.
“Gentlemen,”saidhe,“M.deMonteCristoreceivesmyapology.Ihadactedhastilytowardshim.Hastyactionsaregenerallybadones.Nowmyfaultisrepaired.
Ihopetheworldwillnotcallmecowardlyforactingasmyconsciencedictated.
Butifanyoneshouldentertainafalseopinionofme,”addedhe,drawinghimselfupasifhewouldchallengebothfriendsandenemies,“Ishallendeavortocorrecthismistake.”
“Whathappenedduringthenight?”askedBeauchampofChateau–Renaud;“weappeartomakeaverysorryfigurehere.”
“Intruth,whatAlberthasjustdoneiseitherverydespicableorverynoble,”repliedthebaron.
“Whatcanitmean?”saidDebraytoFranz.
“TheCountofMonteCristoactsdishonorablytoM.deMorcerf,andisjustifiedbyhisson!
HadItenYaninasinmyfamily,Ishouldonlyconsidermyselfthemoreboundtofighttentimes.”
AsforMonteCristo,hisheadwasbentdown,hisarmswerepowerless.
Bowingundertheweightoftwenty–fouryears’reminiscences,hethoughtnotofAlbert,ofBeauchamp,ofChateau–Renaud,orofanyofthatgroup;buthethoughtofthatcourageouswomanwhohadcometopleadforherson’slife,towhomhehadofferedhis,andwhohadnowsaveditbytherevelationofadreadfulfamilysecret,capableofdestroyingforeverinthatyoungman’shearteveryfeelingoffilialpiety.
“Providencestill,”murmuredhe;“nowonlyamIfullyconvincedofbeingtheemissaryofGod!”
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