Page:Hoffmann's Strange Stories - Hoffman - 1855.djvu/345

 that I am guiltless of every assassination. It was not by my hand, nor through any connivance of mine, that the unhappy Cardillac met his fate." Olivier's voice faltered, and de Scuderi pointed to a chair, on which, trembling, as if unable to support himself, he now took his place."

"I have had time enough," said he, "to prepare myself for this conversation, which I look upon as the last favor which can be granted to me in this world, by that righteous Providence with whom I have already made my peace. I have at least acquired sufficient composure and self-possession to give a distinct narrative of my unparalleled misfortunes, to which I entreat that you will listen with patience, however much you may be shocked and surprised by the discovery of a secret, such as could never have been guessed at, and which may seem almost incredible.

"Would to heaven my poor father had never left Paris!—My earliest recollections of Geneva present to me only the tears and lamentations of my unfortunate parents, with whom I also wept bitterly, without knowing wherefore. Afterwards, as I grew up to boyhood, I became aware, by my own sad experience, of the poverty and privations under which they now lived, for my father found himself deceived and disappointed in every hope which he had cherished on coming to his native country, till, at length, quite overcome, and worn out by his afflictions, he died, just as he had succeeded in placing me with a goldsmith, as a journeyman apprentice.—My mother often spoke of the noble minded and benevolent Mademoiselle de Scuderi, and wished to write to you of her distresses. Many letters were begun; but then she was too soon overcome by that sickly cowardice and apathy, which so often accompany misfortune. This feeling, and, perhaps, too, a false shame that often preys on a wounded spirit, prevented her from coming to any effectual resolution, and, finally, within a few months of my father's death, my mother followed him to the grave.

"Poor unfortunate Anne!" cried de Scuderi, again over- 29*