Humbert caught it firmly within his own and held it fast--then looking the poor fellow full in the face, he said with grave steadiness and simplicity, "There is no death in love, my friend!" The young man's eyes met his--his set mouth softened--and wresting his hand passionately from that of the king, he broke into a passion of weeping.

Humbert at once placed a protecting arm around him, and with the assistance of one of his attendants raised him from the bed, and led him unresistingly away, as passively obedient as a child, though sobbing convulsively as he went.

The rush of tears had saved his reason, and most probably his life.

A murmur of enthusiastic applause greeted the good king as he passed through the little throng of persons who had witnessed what had taken place.

Acknowledging it with a quiet unaffected bow, he left the house, and signed to the beccamorti, who still waited outside, that they were now free to perform their melancholy office.