The Count threw a glance of singular interest round the interior of this chamber, which was his own--on the familiar objects--on the sombre hangings--on the bed, prepared for sleep.

Then he turned toward a table, placed in a recess of the window, laid the pistols upon it, and dropping his head in his hands, meditated deeply many minutes.

Suddenly he raised his head, and wrote rapidly as follows: "TO MY SON: "Life wearies me, my son, and I shall relinquish it.

The true superiority of man over the inert or passive creatures that surround him, lies in his power to free himself, at will, from those, pernicious servitudes which are termed the laws of nature.

Man, if he will it, need not grow old: the lion must.