"
PART III
CHAPTER I
MY father lived in the country, some miles from Paris. When I arrived, I
found a physician at the door who said to me:
"You are too late; your father expressed a desire to see you before he
died."
I entered and saw my father dead. "Sir," I said to the physician, "please
have every one retire that I may be alone here; my father had something
to say to me, and he will say it."
In obedience to my order the servants left the room. I approached the bed
and raised the shroud which already covered the face. But when my eyes
fell on that face, I stooped to kiss it and lost consciousness.
When I recovered, I heard some one say:
"If he requests it, you must refuse him on some pretext or other."
I understood that they wanted to get me away from the bed of death and so
I feigned that I had heard nothing. When they saw that I was resting
quietly, they left me. I waited until the house was quiet and then took a
candle and made my way to my father's room. I found there a young priest
seated near the bed.
"Sir," I said, "to dispute with an orphan the last vigil at a father's
side, is a bold enterprise. I do not know what your orders may be. You
may remain in the adjoining room; if anything happens, I alone am
responsible."
He retired. A single candle on the table shone on the bed. I sat down in
the chair the priest had just left and again uncovered those features I
was to see for the last time.
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