"Oh! if
we could have been brothers; if--if we could be brothers!" and the long
cherished idea, which, in his frenzy, he even yet had hardly quite
abandoned, flashed across his brain, and softened his temper.
"We can at any rate be friends," said Henri, approaching him, and again
taking his hand. "Come, Adolphe, sit down by me, and let us talk quietly
of these things."
"There are some things," said he, in a more composed manner, "of which
a man can't very well talk quietly. A man can't very well talk quietly
of hell-fire, when he's in the middle of it. Now, I'm in the very
hottest of hell-fire at this moment. How do you think I can bear to look
at you, without sinking into cinders at your feet?"
Henri was again silent for a time, for he did not know what to say to
comfort the afflicted man; but, after a while, Denot himself continued
speaking.
"I know that I have been a traitor--a base, ignoble, wretched traitor.
I know it; you know it; she knows it"; and as he confessed his
wretchedness, he put his bony hand to his forehead, and pushing back his
long matted hair, showed more clearly than he had yet done the ineffable
marks of bitter sadness, which a few months had graven on his face.
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