"I thought my body was my own, and that I might sell it. I yesterday took the place of another. I sold myself for more than I thought I was worth," he added, attempting to smile; "I fetched two thousand francs."
"Then these one thousand francs———" said Mercédès, shuddering—
"Are the half of the sum, mother; the other will be paid in a year."
Mercédès raised her eyes to heaven with an expression it would be impossible to describe, and tears, which had hitherto been restrained, now yielded to her emotion, and ran down her cheeks.
"The price of his blood!" she murmured.
"Yes, if I am killed," said Albert, laughing. "But I assure you, mother, I have a strong intention of defending my person; and I never felt half so strong an inclination to live as at present."
"Merciful Heavens!"
"Besides, mother, why should you make up your mind that I am to be killed? Has Lamoricière, that Ney of the South, been killed? Has Changarnier been killed? Has Bedau been killed? Has Morrel, whom we know, been killed? Think of your joy, mother, when you see me return with an embroidered uniform! I declare, I expect to look magnificent in it, and chose that regiment only from vanity."
Mercédès sighed while endeavoring to smile: the devoted mother felt she ought not to allow the whole weight of the sacrifice to fall upon her son.
"Well! now you understand, mother!" continued Albert; "here are more than four thousand francs settled on you; upon these you can live at least two years."
"Do you think so?" said Mercédès.
These words were uttered in so mournful a tone, that their real meaning did not escape Albert; he felt his heart beat, and, taking his mother's hand within his own, he said, tenderly:
"Yes, you will live!"
"I shall live! then you will not leave me, Albert?"
"Mother, I must go," said Albert, in a firm, calm voice; "you love me too well to wish me to remain useless and idle with you; besides, I have signed!"
"You will obey your own wish and the will of Heaven!"
"Not my own wish, mother, but reason—necessity. Are we not two despairing creatures? What is life to you?—Nothing. What is life to me?—Very little without you, mother; for, believe me, but for you, I should have ceased to live on the day I doubted my father, and renounced his name! Well, I will live, if you promise me still to hope; and if you grant me the care for your future prospects, you will
