He could see the procession form, with priests and mourners, and move solemnly away, bearing the secret with them.

He had left behind him five children and a wife; and in nineteen years he had seen five funerals issue, and none of them humble enough in pomp to denote a servant.

So he had lost five of his treasures; there must still be one remaining--one now infinitely, unspeakably precious,--but _which_ one?
wife, or child?
That was the question that tortured him, by night and by day, asleep and awake.

Well, to have an interest, of some sort, and half a ray of light, when you are in a dungeon, is a great support to the body and preserver of the intellect.

This man was in pretty good condition yet.