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Adieu

Creator: Balzac, Honoré de, 1799-1850
Translator: Wormeley, Katharine Prescott, 1830-1908
Contributor: -
Editor: -


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One evening, under a calm sky, amid the silence and peace of that rural haven, the doctor saw, from a distance, that the colonel was loading his pistols. The old man felt then that the young man had ceased to hope; he felt the blood rushing to his heart, and if he conquered the vertigo that threatened him, it was because he would rather see his niece living and mad than dead. He hastened up. "What are you doing?" he said. "That is for me," replied the colonel, pointing to a pistol already loaded, which was lying on the bench; "and this is for her," he added, as he forced the wad into the weapon he held. The countess was lying on the ground beside him, playing with the balls. "Then you do not know," said the doctor, coldly, concealing his terror, "that in her sleep last night she called you: Philippe!" "She called me!" cried the baron, dropping his pistol, which Stephanie picked up. He took it from her hastily, caught up the one that was on the bench, and rushed away. "Poor darling!" said the doctor, happy in the success of his lie. He
Is Ulster Right?

A STATEMENT OF THE QUESTION AT ISSUE BETWEEN ULSTER AND THE NATIONALIST PARTY, AND OF THE REASONS--HISTORICAL, POLITICAL, AND FINANCIAL--WHY ULSTER IS JUSTIFIED IN OPPOSING HOME RULE BY AN IRISHMAN LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 1913 CONTENTS. Preface
pressed the poor creature to his breast, and continued speaking to himself: "He would have killed thee, selfish man! because he suffers. He does not love thee for thyself, my child! But we forgive, do we not? He is mad, out of his senses, but thou art only senseless. No, God alone should call thee to Him. We think thee unhappy, we pity thee because thou canst not share our sorrows, fools that we are!--But," he said, sitting down and taking her on his knee, "nothing troubles thee; thy life is like that of a bird, of a fawn--" As he spoke she darted upon a young blackbird which was hopping near them, caught it with a little note of satisfaction, strangled it, looked at it, dead in her hand, and flung it down at the foot of a tree without a thought. The next day, as soon as it was light, the colonel came down into the gardens, and looked about for Stephanie,--he believed in the coming happiness. Not finding her he whistled. When his darling came to him, he took her on his arm; they walked together thus for the first time, and he led her within a group of trees, the autumn foliage of which was dropping to the breeze. The colonel sat down. Of her own accord Stephanie placed herself on his knee. Philippe trembled with joy. "Love," he said, kissing her hands passionately, "I am Philippe." She looked at him with curiosity.