you if you are consoled, I speak
to you as a man for whom the human heart has no secrets. Well, Morrel,
let us both examine the depths of your heart. Do you still feel the same
feverish impatience of grief which made you start like a wounded lion?
Have you still that devouring thirst which can only be appeased in the
grave? Are you still actuated by the regret which drags the living to
the pursuit of death; or are you only suffering from the prostration
of fatigue and the weariness of hope deferred? Has the loss of memory
rendered it impossible for you to weep? Oh, my dear friend, if this be
the case,--if you can no longer weep, if your frozen heart be dead, if
you put all your trust in God, then, Maximilian, you are consoled--do
not complain."

"Count," said Morrel, in a firm and at the same time soft voice, "listen
to me, as to a man whose thoughts are raised to heaven, though he
remains on earth; I come to die in the arms of a friend. Certainly,
there are people whom I love. I love my sister Julie,--I love her
husband Emmanuel; but I require a strong mind to smile on my last
moments. My sister would be bathed in tears and fainting; I could not
bear to see her suffer. Emmanuel would tear the weapon from my hand, and
alarm the house with his cries. You, count, who are more than mortal,
will, I am sure, lead me to death by a pleasant path, will you not?"

"My friend," said the count, "I have still one doubt,--are you weak
enough to pride yourself upon your sufferings?"

"No, indeed,--I am calm," said Morrel, giving his hand to the count; "my
pulse does not beat slower or faster than usual. No, I feel that I have
reached the goal, and I will go no farther. You told me to wait and
hope; do you know what you did, unfortunate adviser? I waited a month,
or rather I suffered for a month! I did hope (man is a poor wretched
creature), I did hope. What I cannot tell,--something wonderful, an
absurdity, a miracle,--of what nature he alone can tell who has mingled
with our reason that folly we call hope. Yes, I did wait--yes, I did
hope, count, and during this quarter of an hour we have been talking
together, you have unconsciously wounded, tortured my heart, for every
word you have uttered proved that there was no hope for me. Oh, count,
I shall sleep calmly, deliciously in the arms of death." Morrel uttered
these words with an energy which made the count shudder. "My friend,"
continued Morrel, "you named the fifth of October a