"Oh, yes, you were in all his thoughts; when he thought he was dying, he cried, 'My mother!' and his first cry, as he began his march to a glorious destiny, was still, 'My mother!'" "My friend, let us not deceive ourselves. What would have been our grief, if, just when we were about to be united, the fear of arousing my son's jealousy, perhaps would have stopped me? And however painful to have renounced our love, think how much more horrible it would have been to see, perhaps, the development of Frederick's jealousy after our union. What could we have done then? What would have become of us?" "No, no, Marie, do not believe that. Frederick loves me, too, and he would have sacrificed himself to your happiness and mine." "Sacrificed? Yes, my friend, he would have sacrificed himself. Oh, I know it, not a word, not a complaint would have passed his lips. Always loving, always tender, he would have smiled on us sadly, and then by degrees, we would have seen him at last wasting away." "Oh, my God, that is dreadful! Woe to me!" murmured David, with bitter lamentation. "Woe to me!" "Joy to you, Henri, because you have been the most generous of men," cried Marie, with an exaltation which imparted a superhuman expression to her dying features, "Joy to you, Henri, for you have been loved, oh, passionately loved, without costing a tear or one moment of shame to the loyal heart which adores you. Yes, Henri, I have loved you without hesitation, without resistance. I have loved you with pride, with serenity, because my love for you, Henri, had all the sacred sweetness of duty. Courage, then, my friend, let the memory of Marie and Frederick Bastien sustain you and console you." "What do you mean? Frederick! Oh, he at least will remain to me!" "My son will not survive me." "Frederick?" "I feel it here, yes, Henri, here in my heart; I tell you he will die." "But, a little while ago, Pierre came out of the chamber where your son is lying, and told me he had not given up all hope. No, no, for him to die, too, would be more than I could bear." "Why do you say that, Henri?" "Great God! you--you, his mother, ask that question!" "I told you, my friend, there are profound mysteries in maternal love. I think it would be a dreadful evil to survive my son, and Frederick thinks as I do; he loves me as much as I love him, and he does not desire to survive me." "Oh, what misery for me to lose you both!" "Marie and Frederick cannot be separated; neither in this world nor in the other, my friend." "Ah, you and he are happy!" "Henri, my strength is gone, the chill of death is on me. Give me your hand, your dear and faithful hand." David threw himself on his knees at the bedside of the young woman, covering her hand with tears and kisses; he burst into sobs. Marie continued talking, her voice growing more and more feeble.