lways return, _hein!_'

"He made a sad attempt at a laugh.

"It was delirium! A delirium which soon passed away, but which
frightened me. It returned with increased force each day, and at shorter
intervals.

"Well, I said to myself, during a lucid interview, 'he must do what he
has resolved to do, what he had willed to do--what he wishes to do!' And
I decided--it was the night before the assassination--to bring him to
the point, to aid his hesitation. I found him calmer that day. He was
lying on his lounge, enveloped in his dressing gown, with a traveling
rug thrown across his thin legs. With his black skull-cap and his
grayish beard he looked like a dying Doge.

"He held out his bony hand to me, giving me a sad smile, and said that
he felt better. A period of remission in his disease, a feeling of
comfort pervading his general condition.

"'What if I should recover?' he said, looking me full in the face.

"I comprehended by that ardent look, which was of singular vitality,
that this man, who had never feared death, still clung to life. It was
instinct.

"I replied that certainly he might, and I even said that he would surely
recover, but--with what grievous repugnance did I approach the
subject--I asked him if, experiencing the general feeling of ease and
comfort which pervaded his being, whether he would not be even more
comfortable and happy if he thought of what he ought to do for that
child of whom he had spoken, and for whose future he wished to provide.

"'And since thou art feeling better, my dear Rovere, it is perhaps the
opportunity to put everything in order in that life which thou art about
to recover, and which will be a new life.'

"He looked fixedly at me with his beautiful eyes. It was a profound
regard, and I saw that he divined my thought.

"'Thou art right!' he said firmly; 'no weakness.'

"Then, gathering all his forces, he arose, stood upright, refusing even
the arm which I held out to him, and in his dressing gown, which hung
about him, he seemed to me taller, thinner, even handsomer. He took two
or three steps, at first a little unsteady, then, straightening up, he
walked directly to his safe, turned the letters, and opened it, after
having smiled, and said:

"'I had forgotten the word--four letters; it is, however, a little
thing. My head is empty.'

"Then, the safe opened, he took out papers--of value, without
doubt--papers which he took back to his lounge, spread out on a table