“Juliette is dead!” sobbed Lescande, and covered his eyes with his great hands. “Great God!” cried Camors in a hollow voice. He listened a moment to Lescande’s bitter sobs, then made a movement to take his hand, but dared not do it. “Great God! is it possible?” he repeated. “It was so sudden!” sobbed Lescande, brokenly. “It seems like a dream--a frightful dream! You know the last time you visited us she was not well. You remember I told you she had wept all day. Poor child! The morning of my return she was seized with congestion--of the lungs--of the brain--I don’t know!--but she is dead! And so good!--so gentle, so loving! to the last moment! Oh, my friend! my friend! A few moments before she died, she called me to her side. ‘Oh, I love you so! I love you so!’ she said. ‘I never loved any but you--you only! Pardon me!--oh, pardon me!’ Pardon her, poor child! My God, for what? for dying?--for she never gave me a moment’s grief before in this world. Oh, God of mercy!” “I beseech you, my friend--” “Yes, yes, I do wrong. You also have your griefs. “But we are all selfish, you know. However, it was not of that that I came to speak. Tell me--I know not whether a report I hear is correct. Pardon me if I mistake, for you know I never would dream of offending you; but they say that you have been left in very bad circumstances. If this is indeed so, my friend--” “It is not,” interrupted Camors, abruptly. “Well, if it were--I do not intend keeping my little house. Why should I, now? My little son can wait while I work for him. Then, after selling my house, I shall have two hundred thousand francs. Half of this is yours--return it when you can!” “I thank you, my unselfish friend,” replied Camors, much moved, “but I need nothing. My affairs are disordered, it is true; but I shall still remain richer than you.” “Yes, but with your tastes--” “Well?” “At all events, you know where to find me. I may count upon you--may I not?” “You may.” “Adieu, my friend! I can do you no good now; but I shall see you again--shall I not?” “Yes--another time.” Lescande departed, and the young Count remained immovable, with his features convulsed and his eyes fixed on vacancy. This moment decided his whole future. Sometimes a man feels a sudden, unaccountable impulse to smother in himself all human love and sympathy. In the presence of this unhappy man, so unworthily treated, so broken-spirited, so confiding, Camors--if there be any truth in old spiritual laws--should have seen himself guilty of an atrocious act, which should have condemned him to a remorse almost unbearable. But if it were true that the human herd was but the product of material forces in nature, producing, haphazard, strong beings and weak ones--lambs and lions--he had played only the lion’s part in destroying his companion. He said to himself, with his father’s letter beneath his eyes, that this was the fact; and the reflection calmed him.