Good! But first he is mine.

When my hand lies still in death, you may take up the cause, but not till then.
You hear me ?" "Yes, father," said the boy.
"And you promise ?" "I promise." "Now farewell, my son.

A bitter fate is ours.

A bitter heritage I leave you!" He sank down upon the bench, drew his boy toward him and said brokenly, "Nay, nay, it shall not be yours.

I shall free you from it.