generations of irreproachable men, who say by my voice, 'The edifice which misfortune has destroyed, Providence may build up again.' On seeing me die such a death, the most inexorable will have pity on you. To you, perhaps, they will accord the time they have refused me. Try that the word of disgrace be never pronounced; go to work, labor, young man; struggle ardently and courageously; live, yourself, your mother, and sister, with the most rigid economy, so that from day to day the property of those to whom I am a debtor may augment and fructify. Reflect how glorious a day it will be, how grand, how solemn, that day of complete restoration, on which you will say in this very office, 'My father died because he could not do what I have this day done; but he died calmly and peaceably, because in dying he knew what I should do.'"
"My father! my father!" cried the young man, "why should you not live?"
"If I live, all would be changed; if I live, interest would be converted into doubt, pity into hostility; if I live, I am only a man who has broken his word, failed in his engagements,—in fact, only a bankrupt. If, on the contrary, I die, remember, Maximilian, my corpse is that of an honest but unfortunate man. Living, my best friends would avoid my house; dead, all Marseilles will follow me in tears to my last home. Living, you would feel shame at my name; dead, you may raise your head and say, 'I am the son of him who killed himself, because, for the first time, he was compelled to fail in his word.'"
The young man uttered a groan, but appeared resigned.
"And now," said Morrel, "leave me alone, and endeavor to keep your mother and sister away."
"Will you not see my sister once more?" asked Maximilian. A last but final hope was concealed by the young man in the effect of this interview, and therefore he had suggested it. Morrel shook his head.
"I saw her this morning and bade her adieu."
"Have you no particular commands to leave with me, my father?" inquired Maximilian, in a faltering voice.
"Yes, my son, and a sacred command."
"Say it, my father."
"The house of Thomson and French is the only one who, from humanity, or it may be, selfishness,—it is not for me to read men's hearts,—have had any pity for me. Their agent, who will in ten minutes present himself to receive the amount of a bill of 287,500 francs, I will not say granted, but offered me three months. Let this house be the first repaid, my son, and respect this man."
"Father, I will," said Maximilian.
"And now, once more, adieu," said Morrel. "Go, leave me; I would be alone. You will find my will in the secrétaire in my bedroom."
