He thought, oh! what a blessing; to be quit of rage, jealousy, despair, and life, all in a minute! Yet that was a sordid death for a soldier to die, who had seen great battles.

Could he not die more nobly than that?
With this he suddenly felt in his pocket; and there sure enough fate had placed his pistols.
He had put them into this coat; and he had not worn this coat until to-day.

He had armed himself unconsciously.

"Ah!" said he; "it is to be; all these things are preordained." (This notion of fate has strengthened many a fatal resolution.) Then he had a cruel regret.

To die without a word; a parting word.