the morning gave way to a sad resignation. He was suffering;
his head was heavy, and he was cold.

"If I shouldn't die to-night," he thought, "I shall have a terrible
cold in the morning."

This mental sally did not make him smile, but it gave him the
consciousness of being firm and determined. He went into the Rue
Dauphine and looked about for a hotel. Then it occurred to him
that it was not yet seven o'clock, and it might arouse suspicions
if he asked for a room at that early hour. He reflected that he
still had over one hundred francs, and resolved to dine. It should
be his last meal. He went into a restaurant and ordered it. But
he in vain tried to throw off the anxious sadness which filled him.
He drank, and consumed three bottles of wine without changing the
current of his thoughts.

The waiters were surprised to see him scarcely touch the dishes set
before him, and growing more gloomy after each potation. His dinner
cost ninety francs; he threw his last hundred-franc note on the
table, and went out. As it was not yet late, he went into another
restaurant where some students were drinking, and sat down at a
table in the farther corner of the room. He ordered coffee and
rapidly drank three or four cups. He wished to excite himself, to
screw up his courage to do what he had resolved upon; but he could
not; the drink seemed only to make him more and more irresolute.

A waiter, seeing him alone at the table, offered him a newspaper.
He took it mechanically, opened it, and read:

"Just as we are going to press, we learn that a well-known person
has disappeared, after announcing his intention to commit suicide.
The statements made to us are so strange, that we defer details
till to-morrow, not having time to send for fuller information now."

These lines startled Hector. They were his death sentence, not to
be recalled, signed by the tyrant whose obsequious courtier he had
always been--public opinion.

"They will never cease talking about me," he muttered angrily. Then
he added, firmly, "Come, I must make an end of this."

He soon reached the Hotel Luxembourg. He rapped at the door, and was
speedily conducted to the best room in the house. He ordered a fire
to be lighted. He also asked for sugar and water, and writing
materials. At this moment he was as firm as in the morning.

"I must not hesitate," he muttered, "nor recoil from my fate."

He sat down at the table near the fireplace, and wrote in a firm
ha