the yoke he could neither
shake off nor break.

"Alas, M. l'Abbe!" resumed Polidori, as though taking an infernal
pleasure in thus torturing the miserable notary, "my poor friend wholly
neglects his health. Let me entreat of you to join your request to mine,
that he will be more careful of his precious self, if not for himself or
his friends, at least for the sake of the poor and needy, whose hope and
support he is."

"Enough! Enough!" murmured the notary, in a deep, guttural voice.

"No," said the priest, much moved, "'tis not enough! You can never be
reminded too frequently that you belong not to yourself, and that you
are to blame for neglecting your health. During the ten years I have
known you I cannot recollect your ever being ill before the present
time, but really the last month has so changed you that you are scarcely
like the same person. And I am the more struck with the alteration in
your appearance, since for some little time I have not seen you. You
may recollect that when you sent for me the other day, I could not
conceal my surprise on finding you so changed; during the short space of
time that has elapsed since that visit, I find you even more rapidly
altered for the worse. You are visibly wasting away, and occasion us all
very serious uneasiness. I therefore most earnestly entreat of you to
consider and attend to your health."

"Believe me, M. l'Abbe, I feel most grateful for the kind interest you
express, but that I cannot bring myself to believe my situation as
dangerous as you do."

"Nay," said Polidori, "since you are thus obstinate, M. l'Abbe shall
know all. He greatly loves, esteems, and honours you; but how will those
feelings be increased when he learns the real cause of your languishing
condition, with the fresh claims your additional merits give you to his
regard and veneration!"

"M. l'Abbe," said the notary, impatiently, "I sent to beg your company
that I might confer with you on a matter of importance, and not to take
up your time in listening to the absurd and exaggerated eulogiums of my
friend!"

"You know, Jacques," said Polidori, fixing a piercing glance of fearful
meaning on the notary, "that it is useless attempting to escape from me,
and that you must hear all I have got to say."

The person so addressed cast down his eyes, and durst not reply.
Polidori continued:

"You may probably have remarked, M. l'Abbe, that the first symptoms of
our friend's illness manifested the