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138 To relieve at once his torturing and maddening suspense, he felt a desire to lodge within his heart the contents of that weapon he had carried about since the morning, with the intention only of frightening Rosilia into compliance with his wishes; to prove to her, by visible demonstration, that he would receive his death at her hands, unless she revoked the cruel sentence she had pronounced against him—unless she bid him live, with the promise of blessing him with herself, and raising him from the absolute misery into which he was plunged, to become at once the happiest and most favoured being in existence! The report of the pistol might reach her ear, the door might then be opened, and she would behold his corse—his bleeding corse extended before her.

He advanced a few paces, he raised his eyes to her window, the light was gone. It was Rosilia's hand which had extinguished it; she had consigned herself to her couch, to seek that repose which he felt assured was lost to him for ever.

In a state of the most insupportable agitation, he returned home, when, with a slow and melancholy pace, he measured his apartment. Wearied at length by such protracted anguish, he threw himself upon a sofa; but a posture of composure, little corresponding to the commotion of his thoughts, seemed but a mockery of his acute anguish, and he sprang from it with an impulse of frenzy. He flung himself into a seat, and pulled the table towards him; he