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 expressible comfort—the comfort of trying to mitigate your sorrows."

The Marquis embraced him, but was unable for some minutes to speak; then suddenly raising his head—

"Treat me not with tenderness, (he said, while a frown overspread his countenance) reproach, revile, neglect me, and you will show me mercy; for you will then save my heart from the intolerable pangs which kindness and attention so unmerited from you must give it. Oh! my son, my son, (he continued, clasping his hands together, and all the austerity of his countenance vanishing), you are now amply avenged, and I am amply punished. Had virtue been the guide of my actions, exclusive of that happiness which ever attends a quiet conscience, I should have had the happiness of being able to enjoy the society of my son; but now, what then would have been my blessing, almost becomes my curse; for not a word of tenderness that passes