He held his handkerchief in his hand, with which from time to time he mechanically wiped his lips.

He grew paler and paler, and his lips became as white as his handkerchief.

Large drops of sweat stood upon his forehead, and his eyes became dull and clouded, as if a film had covered them; but not an exclamation, not a sigh, not a groan, not even a gesture, escaped him.

At one moment, I felt such pity for him that I was almost on the point of snatching the letters from his hands, throwing them into the fire and taking him in my arms, crying, 'No, you are my brother! Forget all; let us remain as we are and love one another!'" M.Tabaret took Noel's hand, and pressed it.

"Ah!" he said, "I recognise my generous boy." "If I have not done this, my friend, it is because I thought to myself, 'Once these letters destroyed, would he recognise me as his brother ?'" "Ah! very true." "In about half an hour, he had finished reading; he arose, and facing me directly, said, 'You are right, sir.