La confession d'un enfant du siècle. English

  CHAPTER I. DEATH, THE INEVITABLE

  My father lived in the country some distance from Paris. When I arrivedI found a physician in the house, who said to me:

  "You are too late; your father expressed a desire to see you before hedied."

  I entered, and saw my father dead. "Sir," I said to the physician,"please have everyone retire that I may be alone here; my father hadsomething to say to me, and he will say it."

  In obedience to my order the servants left the room. I approached thebed and raised the shroud which covered the face. But when my eyes fellon that countenance, 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, andso I feigned that I had heard nothing. When they saw that I was restingquietly, they left me. I waited until the house was quiet, and thentook a candle and made my way to my father's room. I found there a youngpriest seated near the bed.

  "Sir," I said, "to dispute with an orphan the last vigil at a father'sside 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 amresponsible."

  He retired. A single candle on the table shone on the bed. I sat down inthe chair the priest had just left, and again uncovered those features Iwas to see for the last time.

  "What do you wish to say to me, father?" I asked. "What was your lastthought concerning your child?"

  My father had a book in which he was accustomed to write from day to daythe record of his life. That book lay on the table, and I saw that itwas open; I kneeled before it; on the page were these words and no more:

  "Adieu, my son, I love you and I die."

  I did not shed a tear, not a sob came from my lips; my throat wasswollen and my mouth sealed; I looked at my father without moving.

  He knew my life, and my irregularities had caused him much sorrow andanxiety. He did not refer to my future, to my youth and my follies. Hisadvice had often saved me from some evil course, and had influenced myentire life, for his life had been one of singular virtue and kindness.I supposed that before dying he wished to see me to try once more toturn me from the path of error; but death had come too swiftly; he feltthat he could express all he had to say in one word, and he wrote in hisbook that he loved me.