I was in that state when De la Haye knocked at my door. I would not have
answered if he had not said that someone insisted upon seeing me. I got
out of bed, and, scarcely able to stand, I opened my door, after which I
got into bed again.

"There is a stranger here," he said, "who, being in want of a carriage,
offers to buy yours."

"I do not want to sell it."

"Excuse me if I have disturbed you, but you look ill."

"Yes, I wish to be left alone."

"What is the matter with you?"

Coming nearer my bed, he took my hand, and found my pulse extremely low
and weak.

"What did you eat yesterday?"

"I have eaten nothing, thank God I for two days."

Guessing the real state of things, De la Haye became anxious, and
entreated me to take some broth. He threw so much kindness, so much
unction, into his entreaties that, through weakness and weariness, I
allowed myself to be persuaded. Then, without ever mentioning the name of
Henriette, he treated me to a sermon upon the life to come, upon the
vanity of the things of this life which we are foolish enough to prefer,
and upon the necessity of respecting our existence, which does not belong
to us.

I was listening without answering one word, but, after all, I was
listening, and De la Haye, perceiving his advantage, would not leave me,
and ordered dinner. I had neither the will nor the strength to resist,
and when the dinner was served, I ate something. Then De la Have saw that
he had conquered, and for the remainder of the day devoted himself to
amusing me by his cheerful conversation.

The next day the tables were turned, for it was I who invited him to keep
me company and to dine with me. It seemed to me that I had not lost a
particle of my sadness, but life appeared to me once more preferable to
death, and, thinking that I was indebted to him for the preservation of
my life, I made a great friend of him. My readers will see presently that
my affection for him went very far, and they will, like me, marvel at the
cause of that friendship, and at the means through which it was brought
about.

Three or four days afterwards, Dubois, who had been informed of
everything by De la Haye, called on me, and persuaded me to go out. I
went to the theatre, where I made the acquaintance of several Corsican
officers, who had served in France, in the Royal Italian regiment. I also
met a young man from Sicily, named Paterno, the wildest and most heedless
fellow it was possible to see.