As for me, I can only pity you." "It is true," he said, rising and walking to and fro in the room, "I am wearying you.

Pardon me, I did not reflect how little my sorrow must mean to you, and that I am intruding upon you something which can not and ought not to interest you at all." "You mistake my meaning.

I am entirely at your service; only I regret my inability to calm your distress.

If my society and that of my friends can give you any distraction, if, in short, you have need of me, no matter in what way, I hope you will realize how much pleasure it will give me to do anything for you." "Pardon, pardon," said he; "sorrow sharpens the sensations.

Let me stay here for a few minutes longer, long enough to dry my eyes, so that the idlers in the street may not look upon it as a curiosity to see a big fellow like me crying.