"Bless you, bless you, father, for your noble, generous conduct!" She rose from her seat, and, passing her arms around his neck, gave him a glowing kiss with as much solemnity as if she had been anxious to endue this mark of love with all the fervor and sacredness of a benediction.
"Ah! but canst thou bless me, my child," said he, with eyes foil of gratitude, "for an act that should implore thy pardon ?" "_My_ pardon, father!" exclaimed Lenora, with surprise on all her features.

"Oh, had you done otherwise, what would I not have suffered in doubting the goodness of my parent's heart! Now, now, I love you more than ever! _Pardon you_, father?
Is it a crime to save a brother's life when it is in your keeping ?" "Alas, Lenora, the world does not reason thus, and never forgives us for the guilt of poverty.

Reduced to that, we suffer humiliations which any one may observe in the lives of multitudes of our nobles.

Yes; society regards poverty as a crime, and it treats us like outcasts.

Our equals avoid us in order not to be confounded in our misery; while peasants and tradesmen laugh at our misfortune as if it was a sort of agreeable revenge.