"M. de Lescure," said he, in the deep, hoarse, would-be solemn voice,
which he now always affected to use. De Lescure turned quickly round,
and so did his companions. The words of a man who thinks that he is
almost immediately about to die are always interesting.
"If you are talking about me," said the unfortunate wretch, "pray spare
yourself the trouble. I neither ask, nor wish for any mercy at your
hands. I am ready to die."
As de Lescure looked at him, and observed the alteration which a few
weeks had made in his appearance--his sunken, sallow cheeks; his wild
and bloodshot eyes; his ragged, uncombed hair, and soiled garments--as
he thought of his own recent intimacy with him--as he remembered how
often he had played with him as a child, and associated with him as a
man--that till a few days since he had been the bosom friend of his own
more than brother, Henri Larochejaquelin, the tears rushed to his eyes
and down his cheeks. In that moment the scene in the council-room at
Saumur came to his mind, and he remembered that there he had rebuked
Adolphe Denot for his false ambition, and had probably been the means
of driving him to the horrid crime which he had committed.
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