Oh, how sweet it will
be to me to die by your hand! You gave me life; take it back, father,
since God will have it so. And Nisida will be saved. Oh, do not
hesitate! It would be a cowardice on the part of both of us; she is my
sister, she is your daughter."

And seeing that his powerful will had subjugated the old man, he said,
"Help! help, father!" and offered his breast to the blow. The poor
father lifted his hand to strike; but a mortal convulsion ran through all
his limbs; he fell into his son's arms, and both burst into tears.

"Poor father!" said Gabriel. "I ought to have foreseen that. Give me
that dagger and turn away; I am young and my arm will not tremble."

"Oh no!" returned Solomon solemnly, "no, my son, for then you would be a
suicide! Let your soul ascend to heaven pure! God will give me His
strength. Moreover, we have time yet."

And a last ray of hope shone in the eyes of the fisherman.

Then there passed in that dungeon one of those scenes that words can
never reproduce. The poor father sat down on the straw at his son's side
and laid his head gently upon his knees. He smiled to him through his
tears, as one smiles to a sick child; he passed his hand slowly through
the silky curls of his hair, and asked him countless questions,
intermingled with caresses. In order to give him a distaste for this
world he kept on talking to him of the other. Then, with a sudden change,
he questioned him minutely about all sorts of past matters. Sometimes he
stopped in alarm, and counted the beatings of his heart, which were
hurriedly marking the passage of time.

"Tell me everything, my child; have you any desire, any wish that could
be satisfied before you die? Are you leaving any woman whom you loved
secretly? Everything we have left shall be hers."

"I regret nothing on earth but you and my sister. You are the only
persons whom I have loved since my mother's death."

"Well, be comforted. Your sister will be saved."

"Oh, yes! I shall die happy."

"Do you forgive our enemies?"

"With all the strength of my heart. I pray God to have mercy on the
witnesses who accused me. May He forgive me my sins!"

"How old is it that you will soon be?" the old man asked suddenly, for
his reason was beginning to totter, and his memory had failed him.

"I was twenty-five on All Hallows' Day."

"True; it was a sad day, this year; you were in prison."

"Do you remember how, five years ago, on that sam