.

.

to find that I am this, this! My God, Monsieur, but you have stirred within me all the hate, the lust to kill, the gall of envy and despair! But live," his madness increasing; "live to die in bed, no kin beside you, not even the administering hand of a friendly priest to alleviate the horror of your death-bed! God! do men go mad this way ?" The marquis was trembling violently.

Words thronged to his lips, only to be crushed back by the irony of fate.

For a little he would have flung himself at his son's feet.