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I leant this morning, list'ning to the praise Which thy too partial friendship lavish'd on me, That I deserved it not, full well I knew, But little did I think a deed like this (Bursting into tears.)

My dear, dear Claudien! I will love thee still, Will praise thee still; thou art a noble creature.

Call me not so! it is excruciating. I was a happy man, he was unhappy; I at the moment arm'd, he weaponless; I was the victor, he upon the ground. I might have saved his life, and meant to save it; But keen suggestions rush'd, I know not how, Like blasts from hell, all nature's virtue searing; Like poison'd arrows from an ambush'd foe; Like gleams, revealing for one fearful instant The weltering billows of a midnight deep,— Athwart my mind they rush'd; and what came after! O God! thy boundless mercy may forgive, But I for ever am a wretched man!

But tell thy story more connectedly; Whom hast thou slain?—Hush, hush! there's people coming. I hear strange voices and the sound of feet. (Runs to the door, and locks it.)