"I wish to tell you, also, how much this dear brother has given me consolation in regard to his Christian sentiments. This dates, not from his last days only; he had kept Easter at Paris. At the beginning of Lent he wrote to me: 'The Abbé Buquel came to see me; to-morrow he will come again to talk with me as you desired.' Dear friend! Yes, I had desired that for his happiness, and he had done it for mine, not conceding for complacency, but doing it from _conviction_; he was incapable of the appearance of an act of faith. I have seen him alone at Tours, in his room on Sunday reading prayers. For some time he had enjoyed works of piety, and I have been thankful that I left with him Saint Theresa and Fénélon, which have done him much good. God ceased not to inspire me for him. So I had the fancy to bring for the journey a good little book, pious and charming to read, translated from the Italian--'Father Quadrupani'--which gave him much pleasure. From time to time he asked me to read him a few pages: 'Read me a little of Quadrupani.' He listened with attention, then signed to me when he had had enough, reflected thereon, closed his eyes and rested, impressing upon his mind the sweet and comforting holy thoughts. Thus every day at Cayla we read to him some sermons of Bossuet and some passages from 'The Imitation of Christ.' He also wished to have some entertaining reading, and having nothing new in our library, we began Scott's 'Old Mortality.' He went through one volume with some appearance of interest, and then gave it up. He was soon fatigued with anything; we did not know what to do in order to divert him. Visits brought him little relief; he talked only with his doctor--a man of intelligence, who pleased the invalid and sustained his interest. I noticed these moral influences, and even in his greatest prostration that intelligent nature rose up with every kindred touch. Thus the evening, or evening but one, before his death he laughed heartily at your _feuilleton_, so pleasantly witty: _Il faut que jeunesse se passe_, with which he was charmed. He wished to have it read over again: 'Write to d'Aurevilly,' he said to me, 'and tell him it is a long time since I have laughed as I have just done.' Alas! he laughed no more! You gave him the last intellectual pleasure that he had. Everything was enjoyable that came to him from you. Friendship was the sweetest and strongest of his sentiments, that which he felt the most deeply, of which he loved best to speak, and which, I can say, he has taken with him to the tomb. _Oh! yes, he loved you to the end._ I do not know on what occasion, being alone with him, speaking of you, I said to him: 'Do you like me to write to your friend?' '_Do I like it?_' he said, with his heart in his voice.