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 His father sighed heavily, and shook his head. Remorse had lately begun to visit his breast; and he trembled to think there was an eye over all their actions—an eye which could not be deceived. "I like not the shedding of blood," said he.

"You were not always averse to it," cried his son with a malignant sneer.

"True, because my designs could be by no other means accomplished; where mercy can be shown, I wish to be merciful; you can get rid of your wife without destroying her: the report of her death will as effectually serve your purposes as if she had really died; and in the castle on the Alps she can be too securely lodged ever to have an opportunity of proving the fallacy of that report."

D'Alembert detested his wife; and could not, without the utmost reluctance, think of sparing her life; when his father at length prevailed upon him to promise to do so. They soon concerted their schemes relative