ge, and that was
the death of your beloved mother. I realized then that I was only a man.
I said to myself: 'Monte-Cristo, the color has fled from your cheek, the
fire from your eye. You are in possession of old Faria's secrets and
science, but you are powerless against Death. You have triumphed over
Villefort, Morcerf, Danglars, Benedetto and Maldar, but you cannot
triumph over Death! Remember that you are only a man!'

"You were just sixteen, Esperance, when your mother was taken from us,
and your tears fell with mine, but you said to yourself: 'My father
remains!' But, my beloved son, something in that father died at that
time, or rather, I should say that something was born--his
self-confidence vanished forever, and doubt took its place. For many
long years, my son, your father deemed himself master of his own
destiny, and with a certain simplicity at which I smile to-day, he
fancied that he could make all wills bend to his. From that moment
wrinkles came to my brow and my hair grew white, and I cannot smooth
away those wrinkles, nor can my will, strong though it be, bring back
the color to my lips nor fire to my eyes. I have punished the
evil-doers, but when I sought to repair the evil I had committed, I have
not always succeeded.

"I released the son of Mercedes from the fanatics of Ouargla, but two
years later, in December, 1851, he fell, on the day of that
'_attentat_,' which is not yet avenged.

"Where is Maximilian Morel, where is the daughter of Villefort, the
gentle Valentine, whose happiness was dear to me? Did not they all
perish in the frightful revolt of the Sepoys in India in 1859? It is
clear to me that my love was powerless to protect.

"If I write this to you, my son, it is not with a wish to sadden you.
But you are not only my son but my confessor, as well as my one joy and
my hope. From your mother you inherit generous instincts and a spirit of
devotion. From me you have received vigor and energy, but I trust that
you inherit none of my pride.

"When this letter reaches you I shall be far away. Yes, and I wish you
to know why. There is a suggestion of weakness in your nature which I
wish to eradicate. When you are with me you do not do justice to
yourself--you are content to walk in my shadow and see life through my
eyes. But I desire to remind you that you have arrived at man's estate,
and that you must live your own life and think your own thoughts. You
are free, you are twenty-two, and you